I set my alarm, and before anyone was awake, or even thinking of waking up, I was creeping down to the basement. It was five a.m. The plan was to do as many wishes as I could. I wanted to find the lady with the goldfish bag. Was she who I thought she was? The only thing that worried me was how painful the coming back would be. Was it going to be bad every time? Was pain the new normal? It was scary, but not enough to stop me.
I pulled out the jar, sat down, and picked a wish. As soon as I read it, I cringed. It was a bad one. I’d had it before. Maybe it wouldn’t work? But it did, and a second later I was on my way.
I Wish Ashley Wouldn’t Ignore Me
As soon as I saw Shue, I said my test words, “Gray penguin.” I knew where I was. This was going to be the same as before—it was the first wish all over again. Everything was the same, the street, Shue, Ashley—only this time I knew who they were, and what was next. But it didn’t make it easier. I couldn’t watch Shue—I didn’t want to see her cry. So I decided to watch Ashley.
The girls were walking toward each other; they were close now—almost passing. In a few seconds Shue would say hi. I studied Ashley; she was staring straight ahead, like she was the only person on the sidewalk—like Shue was invisible. But I saw her look left, just for a second, toward Shue. Did Shue see it too? Was that why she spoke? Ashley looked straight ahead and pretended like she hadn’t heard her, but I knew that she had—I saw her flinch. And then I saw something that I hadn’t noticed before, and Shue hadn’t either—Ashley was crying. I hated her, felt sorry for her, and was disappointed in her, all at once. Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she stand up to her friends and be nice to Shue?
I felt myself fading away and braced for the pain. Was it because I was getting better at being ready? Stronger? Braver? Or was the shock just not as strong? I couldn’t tell, but whatever the reason, I was thankful that it seemed less painful than the last time. I reached into the jar and pulled out another wish.
I Hope They Get Married
Shue was walking on the sidewalk. At first I didn’t recognize the street, but as we got closer to the corner, I recognized where we were—we were going to the candy store. When she got to the corner, Shue turned and walked toward it. We passed a store with photos of animals in the window; there was a cute panda in a tree. Suddenly I had my test words.
“Violet panda.” I used my normal voice this time. Suddenly Shue gasped and dropped to the ground. She undid her shoe and slowly tied it again, and when it was tied she undid it again. I knew that trick—she was hiding from someone. I looked up. A man and a lady were walking toward us; it took me a few seconds, but I recognized them—not from their faces, but from their clothes—red shoes, a goldfish bag, and work boots. No wonder she was worried. Would the man recognize her? Shue kept her head down as they got closer. The man and the lady were joking, smiling, and holding hands.
“Those are nifty shoes,” said the man, pointing to the lady’s shoes.
“They helped me find you,” she said.
“And find my notes,” he added.
“But next time, I’ll check my shoe before I put it on.” The lady laughed.
They passed Shue without noticing her. She stood up, and a second later I was gone. This time I forgot to prepare myself for the pain, and it caught me by surprise. I screamed. It was sharp, but it was fast, and by the time Mom opened the basement door and called down to me, I had recovered. I jumped up and ran to the bottom of the stairs.
“ASH!” Mom shouted again. She started down the stairs. She stopped halfway down, suddenly seeing me. “Are you okay? I heard a scream.”
“I was excited.” I waved my notebook in the air. “I figured out something in my story—something important.” For once it wasn’t a lie. Well, not a complete lie. I hadn’t written a story, but the figuring-out part was true—and my discovery was important. In fact, it was amazing and almost unbelievable. Miss Sato and Mr. Gripes were in Shue’s wishes. And then, like a lightbulb suddenly flashing above my head, I knew the truth—there were no coincidences; everything was happening for a reason. I didn’t know the whats or the whys, but I couldn’t think about that now. For now, just knowing it was enough. I smiled up at Mom.
Mom was confused. She glanced around the basement. From where she was standing, she couldn’t see the wish jar. She sighed.
“Well, I’m happy it’s going well.”
I nodded and pointed to the chair. “I need more time.”
Mom started back up the stairs. When she got to the top, she turned. “Just half an hour more, okay?” And she closed the door.
I wanted to scream but couldn’t. I forced myself down and sat on the step. I hugged my knees in, pressing myself into a ball. Containing my excitement was hard—knowledge has energy. Miss Sato and Mr. Gripes were the man and the lady in Shue’s wish. I couldn’t believe it—these were real people, people I knew, and I’d seen them in some kind of time warp. The wishes were true! It wasn’t just a fantasy. It was real life. And suddenly I was wondering: the magic, the wishes, and Sam—was it all supposed to happen? And to me? But mostly I was thinking about Ashley and Shue. Were they strangers? Or did I know them too?
I walked back to the chair. I wanted to know more, do another wish, but at the same time I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I picked up the jar and held it in my lap. I looked down at the wishes; there were twenty, maybe thirty left. Suddenly it seemed like too much. Could I last that long? I picked one out and rolled it between my thumb and finger. Now I was wondering again, but this time it was different. This time I was worried. What if I found out something I didn’t want to know? I opened the wish and held it on my leg, smoothing it out with my fingers—only feeling it—and then I forced myself to look down.
I Want to Play with That Girl Again
“Burgundy bear.” I said my test words as soon as I saw Shue. I was getting tired of them, but should I give it up? What if it changed the wishes? What if I needed to say it to keep them working? Something had changed. I wasn’t just watching a story—now I felt like I was part of it. Maybe what I did had power. Suddenly I felt more like Viola Starr, only poorly written and unprepared.
Shue was sitting on some front steps of a house—hers, I guessed. I could hear laughter and screaming coming toward us from down the street. Suddenly I recognized Ashley. She was holding a small brown bag in the air, keeping it away from a boy. It took me an extra second or two, but I recognized his shoes. It was Spencer. Ashley was taller, but Spencer was fast—he was going to get the bag away from her. Shue leaned forward and smiled—they were fun to watch. Suddenly Ashley saw Shue; a second later she called out to her.
“Hey, girl on the step! Come help. I’ll throw this to you, and you throw it back to me!”
Shue hesitated; Spencer made a jump for the bag but just missed it.
“Help!” screamed Ashley.
Shue jumped up and ran behind Spencer. Suddenly the bag was in her hands. It was too much for Spencer—he was outmatched. He tried, but he couldn’t compete. It was monkey in the middle, and he was forever going to be the monkey.
“Just one orange sour,” whined Spencer.
Ashley shook her head. “No way! You ate your candy; this is mine.”
Spencer tried for the bag one more time, but the girls were too fast. He scowled at Ashley and walked off in a huff.
Shue looked worried. “Is he mad?”
I could tell she was feeling guilty.
Ashley shrugged like she didn’t care. She leaned to the side and looked behind Shue. “Is that your house?”
Shue nodded.
Ashley pointed down the block. “We just moved in. The brown house.”
Shue nodded again. Ashley opened her bag. She looked inside and held it open for Shue.
“You can pick anything you want, just not the orange sours—those are my favorites.”
Shue smiled. “They’re my favorites too.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a long string of red licorice. She smiled. “But I like this too.”
Ashley picked out an orange candy and popped it into her mouth. She scrunched up her face. I guessed that was the sour part. She closed the bag, shoved it into her pocket, and walked down the sidewalk toward her house. Halfway there, she turned back and waved. I smiled; I liked this, knowing how they met. And then slowly I felt myself fading away. There was no pain, but I sat in the chair thinking about what had just happened. I’d changed my mind—I liked beginnings.
I didn’t know how much time had passed. I was a little worried that it had been hours, but when I got upstairs, Mom smiled and said, “Oh, good, perfect timing.” She and Claire were going through Mom’s boxes for the yard sale and sticking on the prices.
Mom picked up an old rusty spoon and stuck a price on it. Who was going to buy that? Her hair was in her eyes and she looked tired. I had a feeling this yard sale was more work than she’d imagined. She looked over at me.
“Is your box ready? We’re almost finished with these.”
I nodded. I didn’t have much in my box—Claire had taken most of it—but still, it was better than nothing.
When I got to my room, I collapsed on my bed. I wanted to rest, but my head was full of thoughts. Swirling and spinning and making me dizzy. I needed a break—fresh air. I grabbed the box and carried it downstairs.
I dropped it in front of Mom.
“Is that all you have?”
I nodded and told her about Claire. Mom looked in the box again, and then over at Claire. She was probably trying to imagine what Claire had pulled out. I didn’t say anything, but Claire was like Mom—a junk lover. And Claire’s room was starting to look a lot like the basement.
Mom pulled the box away from Claire. “Let’s leave the rest for the sale.”
It was crazy that Mom was worried about having enough stuff for the sale. This was going to be the biggest yard sale our neighborhood had ever seen.
Claire stood up. “Can we do my scavenger hunt now?”
She was always catching me by surprise, asking for things when I wasn’t expecting it. There was an old page-boy hat in my box. She pulled it out, stuck it on her head, and turned it sideways—the girl definitely had a way with fashion. When she was sure that I was watching, she pulled it off and waved it at me.
“You can use this for the scavenger hunt,” she said. Claire looked at Mom. “If you hide it, and I find it, I get to keep it.”
Mom sighed and shrugged. She couldn’t say no to Claire. I didn’t say anything, but I felt the same way.
An hour later I was on my bike and headed to the thrift store. It was another new first—totally unexpected, totally not me, and one hundred percent because of Claire. It felt weird riding on my own—like I’d lost an appendage or something. It was faster and smoother, but I missed Claire being behind me. I parked outside the thrift store and locked up my bike. It was a secret, me coming here, at least from Claire. Mom had been shocked when I’d told her where I was going. I knew how she felt—I was shocked too! Can you surprise yourself? Absolutely.
Looking around the thrift store still wasn’t my favorite thing, but it was better than I thought it would be. Having a mission helped. After about forty-five minutes I had everything I needed: a shirt, a vest, a dress, a skirt, a jacket, two scarves, and a belt. I wasn’t sure how it would all work, but Claire was good at that—putting things together. I took everything to the counter and waited in line. There were two old ladies ahead of me. They were slow, but I didn’t mind listening to them. Suddenly something on the shelf across from me caught my eye. It was staring at me, not blinking, and hard to ignore. It was a large plastic owl. That was Lucy’s favorite animal! I had to get it for her. I grabbed it, but suddenly I was holding too much and things began to slip loose. The belt and the vest fell on the floor. I shoved the owl under my arm, shifted things around, and bent down to pick them up. And then, there in front of me, on the bottom of the shelf, were Claire’s red shoes—the ones she’d been wearing around the store.
Should I get them? I grabbed them. Maybe she could use them for dress-up. I smiled—she’d be so surprised. It was a struggle to hold everything, but I made it to the counter without dropping anything else. This had gone even better than I’d expected. I wasn’t a thrift store convert, but I got it. The thrill of the find was kind of exciting. And getting it all for seven dollars and thirty cents—well, that just made it even better.
When I got home, there was a postcard from Lucy on the table. I still missed Lucy, but it was different from before—not so desperate. The postcards had helped. Now I knew something new. Distance wasn’t going to pull us apart. Lucy and I would be friends forever.
There was a lot about Claire—Lucy’s Claire—in the postcard. I was surprised, but reading about them doing things together didn’t make me jealous—not even a little bit. It was nice that Lucy had someone to hang out with. I wanted her to be happy.
While Claire and Mom watched a movie, I organized the scavenger hunt for the next day. It had a theme—fashion. My fingers were crossed that Claire was going to love it.