I Dream of Stacy

The bass thumped through the floorboards, a rhythmic heartbeat to the swirling mass of teenagers crammed into the downstairs of the sprawling suburban home. Stacy, radiant in a shimmering emerald dress that perfectly showcased her toned figure, laughed as another classmate complimented her outfit. “Seriously, Stace, you look incredible! Eighteen never looked so good,” chirped Chloe, her best friend, clutching a plastic cup overflowing with punch.

Stacy beamed, a genuine smile that lit up her already striking features. With her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her bright blue eyes sparkling with amusement, she was undeniably the center of attention. This was exactly how she’d envisioned her eighteenth birthday party: loud, fun, and surrounded by everyone she knew. Her foster parents, the Millers, had generously opened their large house, complete with a decked-out patio and a DJ blasting the latest hits. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, and Stacy was the undisputed star.

She’d always felt a little different, a subtle undercurrent beneath her seemingly normal teenage life. Growing up in foster care since she was a toddler, she’d moved through a few different homes before landing with the Millers, who were kind and supportive, if a little oblivious to the intricacies of teenage social dynamics. She knew very little about her biological parents, just a few faded photographs and vague stories from social workers. Her mother was a particularly elusive figure, a fleeting memory of a soft voice and a gentle touch from when she was very young. She’d only met her twice, maybe three times at the most, brief, supervised visits that left her with more questions than answers. As for her dad… Well, she had no idea what happened to him.

“Another pizza just arrived!” Mr. Miller’s voice boomed from the doorway, a stack of cardboard boxes precariously balanced in his arms. A collective cheer went up from the crowd. Stacy grinned. “Perfect timing! I’ll go grab some cash from upstairs.”

Weaving through the throng of dancing and chatting teenagers, Stacy made her way to the staircase. The music faded slightly as she ascended, the sounds of laughter and excited chatter becoming muffled. Her room was on the second floor, a spacious sanctuary filled with posters, clothes, and the general clutter of teenage life. As she reached her door, she noticed it was slightly ajar. That was odd; she was sure she’d closed it before the party.

Hesitantly, she pushed it open further and froze. Sitting on the edge of her bed was a woman she vaguely recognized. Her mother. Her real mother. Stacy’s heart pounded in her chest. What was she doing here? They hadn’t spoken in years.

Her mother’s face, though etched with a hint of sadness, softened as she saw Stacy. “Happy birthday, darling,” she said, her voice a low, melodic whisper.

Stacy, still reeling from the unexpected appearance, managed a weak smile. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her mind racing.

Her mother held out a small, velvet box. “I have something for you.”

Stacy took the box, her fingers trembling slightly. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a simple gold ring. It wasn’t flashy or particularly ornate, but it had a certain understated elegance.

“This,” her mother began, her eyes locking with Stacy’s, “is very important. It’s a magical artifact, given to all genies when they turn eighteen.”

Stacy stared at her, dumbfounded. “Genies? What are you talking about?”

Her mother’s expression turned serious. “You’re a genie, Stacy. You don’t know it yet, but it’s the truth. This ring… it grants other people wishes. Wishes that you, as the genie, must fulfill.”

Stacy’s jaw dropped. This couldn’t be real. “Mom, I think you’ve got the wrong person…”

“No, sweetheart, it’s you. And you must promise me something. Never let anyone know about this ring. Never wear it, especially. Keep it secret, keep it safe.” Her mother’s voice was urgent, her eyes pleading.

Stacy felt a surge of annoyance. This was her birthday party, and her long-lost mother was here, spouting fantastical nonsense and giving her a weird ring. “Look, Mom, I appreciate the… gift, but I really need to get back downstairs. My party is happening.”

“Stacy, please listen to me. This is crucial. Your life will change forever if this ring falls into the wrong hands.”

Stacy just wanted her to leave. This whole conversation was making her uncomfortable. In a bid to end it, she snatched the ring from the box and tossed it haphazardly into her overflowing jewelry box on her dresser. “Fine, Mom. I’ll keep it ‘safe.’ Now, can you please go? My friends are waiting.”

Her mother looked at the jewelry box with a flicker of dismay, but seeing the resolute look on Stacy’s face, she sighed. “Alright, darling. But please, remember what I told you.” With a final, lingering look, she slipped out of the room as quietly as she had appeared.

Stacy shook her head, trying to process the bizarre encounter. Genie? Wishes? It all sounded completely insane. She grabbed the cash she needed and hurried back downstairs, determined to put the strange conversation out of her mind and enjoy the rest of her party.

Meanwhile, a few houses down, Carl leaned against a lamppost with his friends, Mark and Tony, a sullen expression on his face. They’d seen the pictures of Stacy’s party on social media, the endless stream of laughing faces and overflowing food platters. The fact that they hadn’t been invited stung. Carl, in particular, felt a prickle of resentment. Stacy had always been popular, effortlessly cool, and sometimes, he felt, a little condescending.

“I still think we should egg her house,” Tony muttered, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk.

Mark snorted. “Dude, her foster parents are probably loaded. They’d have cameras everywhere.”

Carl smirked. “I’ve got a better idea.” He’d noticed Stacy mentioning online that she was going upstairs to get cash. “Remember that time she said I had lame underwear during gym class?”

Mark and Tony exchanged amused glances. “Yeah?”

“Let’s go steal some of hers,” Carl declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A little payback.”

After the party had been going on for a while longer, and the general noise level indicated that most of the guests were still downstairs, Carl decided it was time. He slipped away from his friends and cautiously made his way to the back of the Miller’s house. He spotted Stacy’s open window on the second floor. It wasn’t a huge climb, and a sturdy trellis offered some footholds.

He shimmied up the trellis, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and nervousness. He carefully pushed the window open wider and slipped inside. The room was dimly lit by the party lights filtering through the curtains. He quickly scanned the space, heading straight for the closet. He tried the handle, but it was locked. Annoyed, he rummaged through the drawers of her dresser, tossing aside stacks of neatly folded clothes. Nothing.

As he was about to give up, his hand brushed against something small and metallic inside an open jewelry box. He pulled it out. It was a simple gold ring. He frowned. This wasn’t underwear, but it was something. He pocketed it. “Found nothing,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a little foolish. He climbed back out the window and rejoined his friends.

“Well?” Mark asked, his eyes full of anticipation.

Carl shrugged, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Nothing. Place was locked up tight.” He didn’t want to admit he’d only found a stupid ring.

Later that night, back in his own room, Carl was getting ready for bed. He emptied his pockets onto his nightstand. Among the crumpled tissues and loose change, the gold ring glinted in the dim light. He picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. It felt strangely warm. As he examined it closer, he noticed a faint, ethereal glow emanating from the metal.

Curiosity piqued, he slipped the ring onto his right index finger. It fit perfectly. As soon as the cool metal touched his skin, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was definitely unusual. A sudden, powerful urge bloomed in his mind, an insistent whisper that grew into a roaring demand.

He had the ring. He had the power. And suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to make a wish.