The old lady looked wobbly and feeble. The minute our subway train started, she was going to keel over. Then she’d be a sick passenger, and the train would stop while we waited for an ambulance, and I’d be late for school.
Plus she looked terrified. I gave her my seat. I helped her into it.
“Thank you, dear. You have done me a good turn.” She didn’t have an old lady’s voice. Her tones were as round and juicy as an anchorwoman’s. “And you know what they say about good turns—”
“That’s okay.” Was she going to tip me? “I don’t want anything.”
“Yes, you do, Wilma. You want many things. I will give you one.”
How did she know my name?
The train stopped at Twenty-eighth Street. I thought about going to another car, but I was getting off at the next stop.
“What is your wish?” she asked. The train started moving again. “I know whether you tell me or not. But you ought to put it positively.”
The train stopped. We were between stations. In the silence, the old lady continued, “It should not be, ‘I wish I weren’t always left out or picked on.’”
She knew. And now so did everybody in our car. I looked around. Only adults, thank goodness. The train got going again.
“I can make your wish come true. You will be a sought-after member of the in crowd. You will be a cool cat.”
The train screeched into the Twenty-third Street station. My stop.
The doors opened. I stood half in, half out, keeping them open. I didn’t want to be just a member of the in crowd. I wanted more. “I want to be the most popular kid at Claverford,” I blurted out. I figured I might as well go all the way with a wish nobody could grant.
She frowned. “Is it wise . . . ? All right, dear. Granted.”