Cameron To Candy

The copper coin Greg had used with the wishing well the previous day had not done the job. He’d called Marcus to be sure. Marcus had been understandably confused as to why Greg had asked if Cam had turned back that day. So this time he was upgrading to a silver coin. Silver was more serious. Silver said, I’m invested in this outcome.

There was a line when he got there. Greg didn’t mind. The wishing well stood near the square where half of Reedmere seemed to pass through eventually, and today there were four people ahead of him. A little boy was first, clutching a copper in both hands and taking an awfully long time to decide what to wish for. Behind him stood a woman with a bundle of herbs under one arm, then a young man who looked far too serious for well-related business, and finally an older lady who kept peering into the water as if she expected it to answer back in plain speech.

Greg took his place at the end of the line and waited cheerfully. The boy at the front squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, squeezed them shut again, and then seemed to start over entirely. His mother, standing a few paces off, did not rush him. Greg respected that. A proper wish ought to take at least a little time, especially from a kid. Besides, Greg had plenty to think about himself.

Mostly he thought about how right he was going to be. That was the nice thing about optimism. If things worked out, it made you look wise. If they didn’t, you still seemed good-natured and well adjusted. Greg, who had a natural talent for seeing the bright side of bad ideas, was already picturing the moment Candy turned back into Cameron and had to admit the well had worked after all. Greg was going to be unbearable. Not publicly, of course, and not in a mean way. But privately, for the rest of Cameron’s life, Greg intended to dine on this social morsel for ever.

He could already hear himself. “Well, Cam, I guess I was right. Again.” Or maybe, “Funny, you used to mock the wishing well, and now look at you.” Or better still, “You know, buddy, you really watch The Gilded Gaggle differently these days. You eat it up like candy.”

Greg smiled to himself. Oh yeah, that last one had a LOT of potential. Like, “you sure like chocolate more these days. Is it because it’s sweet? Or do you like all candy now?” Okay, he’d have to workshop it. But this would give him material for the rest of their lives. Some might be too much for the first week. He would have to pace himself. Good running gags required discipline and a long set up.

The line moved a little. The herb woman tossed in her coin, made a quick wish, and went on her way. The serious young man stepped up next. Greg folded his arms and continued planning his future victory lap.

Oh, Cam was going to suffer for this. Not actual suffering. Friendly suffering. The sort only a brother or lifelong friend could inflict. Greg would work “candy” related things into conversation for years without anyone else catching it. He would offer Cameron a sweet roll and say, “Thought you might want one. Seemed on brand.” He would point to the sweets stall in the market and murmur, “Careful, don’t get nostalgic.” He would wait until Cameron was drinking something with too much sugar in it and then casually say, “Like that drink because it’s like candy?”

And Marcus, oh Marcus wasn’t getting off easy either. Marcus had not been polite in his skepticism. Greg intended to give him at least three solid I told you so’s in the first ten minutes. Not aggressive ones. Warm ones. Brotherly ones. The sort that got right behind the ribs and stayed there.

He pictured Cameron restored, annoyed, trying not to smile while Greg kept going. The image pleased him so much he nearly missed the older lady ahead of him stepping away from the well at last.

Now there was only one person left between Greg and destiny. As he waited, his thoughts shifted from gloating to opportunity. Because once Cameron was Cameron again, there would be practical benefits too.

Greg wanted names. More specifically, he wanted women's names and their mirror incantations ¹like magic mirror phone numbers, some might say. There was no way Cameron had spent all that time as Candy and not come away knowing the mirror incantations of at least a few single women. He had gone to bathhouses, self-defense classes, women’s gatherings, whatever else the kingdom forced wives to do. He had seen things, heard things, met people. Greg was not asking for miracles here. He just wanted a few proper introductions and perhaps the incantation for a woman who did not immediately glaze over when she looked at his bachelor profile. Greg suspected his profile was too short ²That absolutely was not the case. Even if the wish didn’t work, he might ask Candy to look it over. She had a foot in both sexes' world; she probably had some unique insights. At any rate, some dating help, frankly, felt like a fair return on investment.

And the truth was, before he knew who Candy really was, Greg had gotten a little jealous of Marcus. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, especially now that he knew Candy was Cameron, but seeing him with the spunky little hottie he had thought Candy was had started Greg’s marriage clock ticking.

By the time his turn came, Greg had already begun imagining the conversation. "All right, Cameron, welcome back to manhood," He'd say. "First, you’re welcome. Second, prepare for a lifetime of mockery. Third, I expect gratitude. Start writing down every mirror incantation for every decent single woman you met while you were out there undercover as a wife."

He smiled again and stepped up to the well. The water below looked exactly the same as it had yesterday. He drew the silver coin from his pocket and held it up for a second between finger and thumb.

“This,” he told the well quietly, “is a serious coin for a serious wish.” Then, after privately making his wish to restore his friend's body, he dropped it in. The silver coin fell in, struck the surface with a neat little bloop, and vanished. Greg leaned forward slightly and waited. Nothing happened. He waited a little longer. Still there was nothing. No shimmer or glow. No voice from the depths. No sudden sign that ancient wishing magic had finally stirred. Greg stood there another second, then let out a long breath.

“Well,” he said, “that’s disappointing in a number of ways.” He straightened up, shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked at the well with mild reproach. 'Hmm. I guess he could have changed back without the well doing anything fancy,” he thought. "I'll call 'em again and check." Then he shrugged. “Eh. And if he didn't, I'll come back tomorrow and try gold.” And with that, Greg turned and walked off in perfectly good spirits, already committed to his return.