Mom and Claire were waiting in the living room. As soon as I put the basket of clothes down, Claire grabbed it and dragged it behind the sofa. I walked over and sat in the chair next to Mom. I wasn’t looking forward to this. There was a lot of stuff in that basket; this was going to be a long and painful show. Claire was behind the sofa, singing to herself and getting ready. There was a Grand Canyon of difference between her excitement and my enthusiasm.
Suddenly her head popped up. “Can we have music?”
“Good idea,” said Mom. She turned to me. “You pick something.”
I didn’t complain. My music was definitely going to be better than Mom’s. As soon as the music was on, I felt a lot better. Sometimes I forget how music can do that—help change your mood.
Claire’s fashion show was a surprise—it was fun and cute. I wasn’t going to wear any of her oufits, but on her they looked good. When it was over, Mom and Claire got ready to go out.
Claire was wearing her new old clothes—a dress, a skirt, and a vest. I couldn’t quite decide what I thought of it. It was old-fashioned and kind of artsy at the same time. She saw me looking and did a twirl. She was happy.
“Don’t you want to come?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll stay here.”
She frowned. “You’re going to miss all the fun. Plus we’re going to pick out ice cream for dessert tonight. Don’t you want to pick out your own flavor?”
“That’s okay.” I pointed toward the kitchen, where Mom was. “Mom knows what I like.”
As soon as I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Claire didn’t have a mom to buy her ice cream. Was she going to feel bad? I tried to fix it. “Hey Claire, why don’t you surprise me. You pick a flavor for me. As long as it’s not chocolate, I’ll like it.”
“You don’t like chocolate?” asked Claire. “But everyone likes chocolate.”
She was right, everyone did like chocolate—everyone except me. I hated it. I couldn’t stand the taste. It’s not easy to hate something the rest of the world loves. When you do, the world thinks you’re strange, but I had a way around it—a way to pretend to be normal.
I sighed, shook my head, and tried to look sad. It was a performance, and it had to look authentic. I glanced at Claire to be sure she was watching me and sighed heavily. I studied my shoes—lies were easier if you weren’t looking at someone’s face.
“I can’t have chocolate,” I said. “I’m allergic to it.”
That usually did the trick. Once you said “allergy,” people nodded their heads and stopped bugging you. But that didn’t work with Claire. She kept going. She had questions.
“What happens to you? Will you die?”
Before answering, I checked to be sure that Mom wasn’t around. If she heard me, she’d totally bust me on the lie.
I pointed to my arm. “I get giant red itchy lumps all over my arms. It’s like getting a hundred mosquito bites all at the same time.”
Claire took a step back and covered her mouth. She looked at my arms. There was nothing to see, but I held them out anyway.
“That’s not fair. The best thing in the world, and you can’t have it.”
Claire looked sad, like she might even cry. I started to feel guilty; maybe I’d overdone it.
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “I’m used to it.”
Claire ran over and gave me a giant hug. I wasn’t expecting that; now I really felt guilty.
“We’re only going for a few hours,” said Mom. She was standing by the door, watching us.
I knew what she was thinking; she thought the hug was for good-bye.
I peeled Claire off me and pointed her toward the door. “Have fun!”
Claire took a few steps forward and then looked back. “How about brownies?”
I shook my head. “They’re chocolate.”
She looked like she couldn’t believe it, like this was the craziest thing she’d ever heard. Mom was listening now. I needed to end it before I got into trouble.
“Strawberry and vanilla,” I said. “That’s my favorite.”
“Oh, ice cream,” said Mom. “I wondered what you two were talking about. Ash likes strawberry swirl. We’ll get her that.”
“We can’t get her chocolate!” said Claire.
I held my breath and waited for what she’d say next, but she was done—she was quiet. I was safe. At least for now.
“That’s right,” said Mom. “It’s nice how you two already know so much about each other, and it’s only the first day.” She looked pleased. “Are you ready to go?” She looked down at Clare and frowned. She was probably wondering about the outfit.
They were almost gone. I was almost free. I tried to push them out the door with my thoughts. Leave! Leave now. Walk to the car. GO!
“Oh, I put a load in the washer a while ago—can you switch it to the dryer in about twenty minutes?” asked Mom.
I nodded. Claire gave me one last look and followed Mom out the door.
“Don’t forget the laundry!” shouted Mom.
I smiled. There was no chance of that. The minute they were gone, I was heading straight to the basement. I couldn’t wait to get down there. I watched the car pull away, waited for a second to be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, and then raced down the stairs.
Two minutes later I was in the chair with the jar in my lap. I put my hand in the jar. What was Anderson’s? Where was it? Why was Shue so excited? The answer was in here. Could I pick out the right wish? I grabbed a handful of balls and let them slip through my fingers, until only two were left. Which one was it?
I pulled my hand out of the jar, but the top of the jar was narrow, and I dropped one as I struggled to get my hand out. The deciding was done. I forced my eyes to the workbench as I opened the wish and flattened it out against my leg. Nothing would happen until I read it. I knew that now. I liked this power—to read or not to read. Of course I would read, but it felt good to be in control. I alone could press go.
I took a breath and looked down.
I Wish Mom Wasn’t So Mean
I was back in Shue’s room. That wasn’t a surprise—it was always going to be her. These were her wishes. I’d figured that part out.
“And don’t even think of coming down here until that room is spotless! This is your own fault. I asked you to take care of this yesterday.”
The voice surprised me. Someone was shouting at Shue from the other side of her door. It was a lady, probably her mom. Moms were the only ones who got upset about messy rooms. I looked around; it wasn’t that messy. If she wanted to know messy, she should see my room. Shue didn’t look up; she just sat on the side of the bed looking miserable.
Suddenly she stuck her head in her pillow and screamed, “I hate you!”
It was muffled, but I heard it. I knew how she felt. Sometimes you just have to get the words out. There was a piece of paper in her hand; she sat up and looked at it.
I stepped forward but then remembered my test words—I hadn’t said them yet. Shouting felt wrong, so I spoke in a normal voice, just above a whisper.
“Yellow panda.”
I stood for a second watching Shue. I skipped the waving—that seemed wrong too. I sighed and walked toward her; I had a feeling this was bad news. Shue was still staring at the paper. I looked down. It was an invitation to the beach with Ashley’s family. I recognized Ashley’s handwriting. The invitation said ten thirty. The clock said ten fifty-six. They were gone. No wonder she was upset.
Shue got up and went to her desk. She shuffled the papers until everything was in one giant pile, opened the top drawer, and tried to shove it all in. But the drawer wouldn’t close; something was in the way. She pushed harder, but it didn’t make a difference; nothing moved. She pulled everything out and bent down and looked inside the drawer. Suddenly she was smiling. She reached in and pulled out something yellow. At first I couldn’t tell what it was. But when she held it up to admire it, I recognized its shape. It was a duck, an ugly yellow duck statue.
Why was this making her happy? She studied the statue for a second more and then yanked off its head. I wasn’t expecting that. She tossed the head onto her bed; it bounced a few times before landing next to her pillow. I looked back at Shue; she was pulling out a small strip of paper from inside the statue. Now I got it. That’s why she’d pulled the head off—she knew the paper was going to be in there. She smoothed out the paper, read it, and laughed.
“So funny, Ashley! I’ll get you.”
She was talking to herself, just like I did. Maybe that wasn’t such a weird thing. That was good to know.
I tried to see the paper but couldn’t—Shue’s hand was covering it. She walked over to her dresser, opened a little box, and dropped the paper inside. There were other papers in the box, but she closed the lid before I could see any of them. She stuck the head back on the duck and sat on her bed. I wanted to see what Ashley had written. Was it something about Anderson’s? I tried to open the box, but my hands drifted through it like clouds. A second later I was home—back in my chair.
I was disappointed. The wish was over too fast. And there had been nothing about Anderson’s. I picked out another ball and unwrapped it. I had time for mistakes. Mom and Claire would be gone for hours.
I Wish Pam and Cathy Didn’t Exist
A second after I read the words, I was gone again. Shue was standing at the front door of a house, knocking. I shouted out my test words just as the door opened.
“Red fox.”
A boy answered. Neither of them looked at me. I didn’t bother waving; I knew I was still invisible.
“Hi, Spencer,” said Shue. That helped. Of course; it was Ashley’s brother. “Is Ashley ready to go?”
Spencer looked confused. “Uh . . . go where?”
“We’re having a picnic.” Shue held up the bag in her hand. “She’s bringing the drinks, and I’m bringing everything else. I even made brownies.”
I scrunched up my face. I hated brownies; even the smell of them made me feel sick.
“Are you sure it was today?” asked Spencer.
“Of course!” Shue was getting impatient. “Can’t I just go in and get her?”
“Uh . . . you can’t,” said Spencer. He looked down at the ground and mumbled something.
I didn’t catch what he said, but Shue did.
“Gone where?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Spencer looked uncomfortable. “She left with Pam and Cathy about twenty minutes ago.”
“Is she coming back? Should I wait?” Shue looked like she was about to cry.
Spencer shook his head. “I think she’ll be gone awhile.”
“But it was a plan,” whimpered Shue. “And I made brownies.”
They both stood there not saying anything, Spencer looking at the ground and Shue trying not to cry. It was hard to watch. Finally Shue pulled out a tin foil package from her bag and shoved it into Spencer’s hands.
“Here!” she sputtered. “You have them.”
Before Spencer could say anything, Shue was gone. I felt bad for her, but I was leaving too, slowly fading away—but then suddenly there was a sharp zapping pain and my body was tingling with electricity. It was over quickly, but I froze, scared it would happen again. I waited a minute or two, but there was nothing. I was safe. Why had that happened? It was like the first wish, but worse. I shook my head and carefully moved my arms. I didn’t want that feeling again.
I leaned back in the chair, happy to be home. I liked the wishes, but the sad ones were confusing and hard to watch. Ashley and Shue were friends and then they weren’t, but why? What had happened? What was the in-between? And who were Pam and Cathy? I shook the jar and watched the balls spin and quickly settle to the bottom and stop. There was a story in there, but I needed a break. I didn’t like it when Ashley was mean. I wanted to like her, plus we had the same name. I pulled out the used wishes and hid the jar. I had a new mission. I took the wishes up to my room.
I found a giant piece of cardboard and laid the wishes on top. Where did they fit? Which wish went first? I couldn’t pick them out of the jar in the right order, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe I could still figure out where they went. If I got the order right, the story would make sense. It was Shue’s story, and I wanted to know more. I moved the five wishes into place and taped them down. There were spaces for the in-betweens—the wishes I hadn’t read yet. The wishes that would fill in the gaps. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was more like a list, but I called it a map. My wish map of Shue’s story. I was going to be like Viola Starr. I was going to be a detective.