The Wishing Coin: A Modern Fairy Tale by Antara Mann Read Free Book Online Page B

walk on but I heard another voice from the same group.
    “Hey, Mark, isn’t that the reporter who made Roscoe famous?”
    “Hey, hottie, wait a minute!”
    “How about showing me on AEC, too? Just hear me rap!”
    “You know Roscoe?” I interrupted him.
    His name caught my attention.
    “Sure we do. Who do you think shot his video?”
    “Now wait a minute, that was me!”
    “I set up his marketing campaign! Who do you think gave him two million views?”
    “Shut up, you bonehead! Who gave him five thousand comments, ha?”
    “What? Hold on a minute! How do you mean you gave him two million views?” I turned to the boy who had mentioned something about marketing. The question how Roscoe Ritch had managed to gather two million views had been gnawing at me from the very beginning.
    “How else? With money. Pay a grand and you can also get several million views from Bangladesh, India, China… There are plenty of developing countries with millions of people starving and ready to do anything for a couple of bucks.” The three boys laughed spitefully.
    Suddenly I felt sick. I wanted to see no one and be seen by no one. So that’s what was behind my top story that had shot me to the top? Paid page views from Asia?
    “Sweetie, hear my song! I’ll pay more than Roscoe and I’ll have over five million views!”
    “Get out of here!” I shouted. I was so furious. None of them made a move. I shouted one more time, “Get out of my way! Now!”
    I was overtaken by hatred, anger and mortification to such an extent that I grabbed the coin and offhandedly wished for the boys to disappear. The next moment they were gone, but I couldn’t calm down. I felt both deceived and like a deceiver.
    I went home quickly; I wanted to be alone. Lewis called. He had to have been wondering why I wasn’t with him. I didn’t feel like explaining anything so I didn’t pick up. The next morning I went to work as usual. I was in the office at nine and I was preparing my next presentation when Barry, the Screenplay Writer, came in and said, “Your boy is in the limelight again.”
    “My boy?” I repeated and looked up from the sheets of paper in front of me.
    “Yes, the rapper Roscoe Ritch.”
    “What’s he done? A new video?”
    “Haven’t you heard the news?”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Three friends of his are missing and haven’t been seen since yesterday evening. The police are investigating. You really haven’t heard? That’s breaking news. Those three teenagers’ mothers are in shock.”
    If I hadn’t been sitting I would have most definitely lost my balance.
    “Julia, are you all right? You look a bit pale.”
    “I’m…um…” I cleared my throat as I was looking for my glass. It had been somewhere on my desk. “The news of the missing teenagers shocked me, too.”
    “Well, you’re not alone. Your Roscoe called on the citizens to find his three friends on national TV.”
    “Is there any result?” I asked tentatively although I knew the answer.
    “I guess no, so far. And don’t forget to add the topic on the missing teenagers to your next program. Get involved in the story and send your condolence to their relatives. Will you do that?”
    I nodded. As soon as Barry went out I turned on AEC’s latest news to make sure the screenwriter had been telling the truth. After a while, I heard the message:
    “Yesterday evening around six o’clock, Isaac Reed, Gary Tucker, and Matthew Barnes were seen for the last time in the Central Park area. The police are looking for them and begging citizens who have any information about the three teenagers to contact their nearest police department.”
    I stopped the video and closed my eyes. What had I done? I’d had no intention to cause those boys any harm, but the previous day they had challenged me. I stood up. I had to fix what I’d done. I closed the door of the room and when I made sure there was no one around (the door was transparent), I