A Deal with the Devil by Jada Xu

I met the devil when I was seven years old.

I was sitting in my backyard, licking at a dripping popsicle that left my fingers sticky and sweet while swatting at the flies that were drawn to the sugar. It was a lazy summer day, when the heat made doing anything more productive than hoping for a breeze impossible. That was all I did the whole day, squatting on the porch, slurping up shake after shake, and watching the sun set, anticipating the coolness that would come with the night.

A boy sat down beside me, his weight causing the weathered wooden porch to creak. I glanced over. He wasn’t Howie or Meyer, the boys I horsed around with. Both were blond, short, and chubby. This boy had a head of the darkest hair I’ve ever seen and was quite tall and thin despite looking around my age. Was he new to the neighborhood? If so, how did he get over the fence? It looked far too tall for him to climb over.

He looked at me and I dropped my popsicle in shock. His eyes were crimson, a roaring fire burning deep within those orbs, and before I could stop myself, I was saying in surprise, “Hey, your eyes are red!”

“Yeah, I guess.” He smiled.

I wasn’t afraid back then. Children aren’t afraid of anything. I was more concerned with the popsicle that was melting into the grass, and pouting, I pointed accusingly at him. “You made me drop my popsicle.”

“Sure, I’ll fix that.” He snapped his fingers, and it was back in my hands again. I licked at it happily. I didn’t notice that the patch of grass that it fell on had turned withered and yellow.

“Do you want a popsicle too? I have a lot in my fridge.” I offered. It seemed like the right thing to do.

He laughed, “No thank you. You’re very nice. But is there anything else you’d like?”

“Well, yes.” I pondered for a moment thoughtfully. “I want a lot of things, actually. I want a deluxe Barbie set, a crown made of real diamonds, and a sports car! Howie has a red one and it’s really cool, and I want one of those – a blue one! I like blue, even though I’m a girl. People say pink’s a girl color, but I think blue could be one too…”

As I prattled on, I kept on sneaking glances at him. Whenever I go on these rants, my parents’ faces would be filled with carefully concealed exhaustion, my teachers with straining patience, and my friends with open annoyance. But he was listening, nodding along, and even laughing at some of my more outrageous demands. When I had finally finished,the sun had already set and only the barest streaks of gold were present in thehorizon.

“Do you think you can get me all that?” I asked playfully. I knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“I could.” He answered simply.

“Really?” I was skeptical.

“Of course. But you’ll have to trade something for all that.”

“Trade what?” I was now more curious than anything else.

“Hm… How about…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How about your Howie?”

“Howie?” I laughed. “But I like Howie! I don’t wanna trade him!”

“Really?” He asked. “Are you sure? But don’t you want that Barbie set and that crown? And that sports car! Think about that sports car! I’m sure Howie wouldn’t mind. After all, he did forget to give you a birthday present, didn’t he?”

“He got me a notebook,” I pointed out.

“A last minute gift.” He waved a hand dismissively. “He’s very miserable about it. If you carry through with this trade, it’ll be like his way of making that up to you!”

“Fine, fine.” I was smiling. I didn’t think seriously about it. “Alright, let’s make a deal!”

The boy smiled, and I shivered. Although it was still hot outside, the humidity not quite swept away by the cool evening breezes yet, something icy crept across my skin, sending the hairs on my arm prickling up. The boy’s grin widened, and those crimson eyes blazed. They looked like fire. Real fire. A fire that promised pain and agony. But it passed just as quickly as I started. When I glanced at him again, the heat had settled back around me like a muggy blanket and those eyes were back to those merry redflames.

He held out a hand. I shook it. It was even warm and sweaty, just like how a normal little boy’s hand should feel like.

Just then, I heard my parents calling me in for dinner. With a quick good-bye, I scurried indoors, but as I made a quick stop to the bathroom to wash my hands, I screamed with delight. The boy and the deal were forgotten in an instant when I saw a pile of wrapped gifts were piled in the middle of the floor, and when I tore one open, it was that shiny blue toy sports car I had dreamed of having my entire life. There was that Barbie set, the diamond crown, and all of my outrageous demands. My parents were stunned at the gifts my secret admirer had given me, but I was in heaven.

Later on that night, I didn’t hear my parents receive a tearful phone call reporting the disappearance of a neighborhood child. I didn’t see the missing posters fluttering against the billboards. And it wasn’t until a week later without seeing or hearing anything from Howie when I realized that something was very, very wrong.