Earlier that day Emery had walked over to see the bustle of preparation going on at Lighthouse Field. Tents were going up; circus people ran to and fro; an occasional horse or elephant walked past. Emery decided to take a closer look. No one paid any attention to him as he walked through the madness, trying to keep out of everyone’s way. Then it happened.
“Boy.”
Emery paused. He was the only boy he saw.
“You, boy.”
Emery turned and saw a gypsy sitting at a small round table outside of a small tent. The gypsy was dressed in a baggy, silky-looking shirt and pants and had a red bandanna wrapped around his head. A big, round, golden earring dangled from his right ear, and he sported a big black mustache.
“Me?” Emery squeaked.
The gypsy didn’t answer, but simply crooked a long finger in summons.
Emery felt his heartbeat jump, but he obeyed.
“Sit down,” the gypsy said. To Emery’s ear it sounded like, “Seet dowwwn,” and Emery thought he recognized the voice. He did! It sounded like the voice he’d heard in an old movie he and Philip had watched. It sounded like the voice of Count Dracula! Afraid to do anything but what the gypsy demanded, Emery sat on a folding wooden chair near the gypsy.
“I think you can help me,” the gypsy said with his frighteningly slow pronunciation.
“M . . . m . . . me?”
“If you can help me, I will grant you a wish immediately. Say you can help me.”
Behind him Emery heard an elephant trumpet, and Emery wondered how in the world he had ended up in the short space of a minute with a scary-talking gypsy in front of him and a bleating elephant behind him.
“Well, I . . . I don’t know. What . . . what . . . what . . . ?
The gypsy raised a finger to him, and Emery shut up as the gypsy reached under his table and pulled out a creamy glass ball. Emery stared wide-eyed as the gypsy put the ball on the table.
“Stare into the ball,” the gypsy ordered. “Stare hard.”
Emery glued his eyes to the ball, relieved the gypsy had not ordered him to stare at the gypsy himself.
“You have a wish,” the gypsy drawled. “I can see it in the ball. No, do not tell me what it is. The crystal ball will tell me, and because you will help me, I will grant your wish.”
Emery peeked up at the gypsy whose eyes were closed as he rubbed his hands across the ball.
“I see it!” the gypsy barked, and Emery jumped and returned his eyes to the ball, not wanting the gypsy to catch him looking anywhere else.
“Now, you may look away. The vision is gone.”
Emery shyly returned his eyes to the gypsy.
“You wish to see the circus.” The gypsy’s voice rose. “I grant you your wish.” From somewhere in the folds of his billowing sleeve, the gypsy produced what looked like a ticket. “You may take this to the box office anytime and exchange it for a ticket to the circus. Your wish is granted. Now, you see my power. Now, you see what I can do. Now, you will help me, and if you do, I will grant you three more wishes at the completion of your task.”
Emery took the ticket and studied it. It looked like the real thing. And for free!
“What do I have to do?” Emery asked with a quaver in his voice.
“I have a chore for you. You need only do what I ask, and the three wishes are yours.”
“Do I have to do it alone?”
The gypsy tilted his head questioningly.
“Two people might be better,” Emery argued. “I have a friend. He could help me do whatever it is.”
“Bring him to me,” the gypsy ordered. “Immediately!”
“Uh, well, okay. I’ll go get him.” He stood and slipped the ticket into his pocket. “I’ll be right back.” He took a few steps and turned back. “You’ll be here, right?”
The gypsy didn’t answer, but simply extended his arm, his crooked finger pointing into the distance.
Emery turned and ran off.
“So how about that?” Emery bubbled. “What do you think of that? I showed you the ticket. It’s all real.”
Philip wanted a free ticket to the circus. What made Emery the lucky one? But it still sounded weird.
“The ticket looks real. Did you sit there and make a wish to go to the circus, and he just . . . poof . . . popped out a ticket?”
“No, I didn’t say anything.”
“So, you didn’t make a wish?”
“No, but I wanted to see the circus.”
“But you didn’t tell the gypsy that?”
“I guess he could see into my mind through his crystal ball. Oh, man. He read my mind! He’s even more powerful than I thought!” A worried look came across Emery’s face. “We better watch out what we think when we’re around him.”
“People can’t read minds,” Philip said, not entirely sure his statement rang true.
“Then how’d the gypsy know I wanted to go see the circus?”
“I don’t know. Everybody wants to go see the circus.”
“I don’t think so. The old lady who made you lose your ball probably doesn’t want to go see the circus.”
“She should be in the circus; in the Spooky House.”
“Philip, you gotta come and meet the gypsy. If he lets you help me, he’ll give you three wishes. Imagine what we could do with three wishes.”
The possibilities appealed to Philip. “Yeah,” he said. “What would you wish for?”
“I don’t know. A million dollars. All 100s in every test I ever take. How about you?”
“A million dollars sounds good, but I wouldn’t waste a wish on school. How about . . . how about a new car every year for free when I grow up? Yeah. And muscles.”
“Mussels? You eat that snotty-looking seafood thing in the little black shells? Ew! That’s disgusting!”
“What snotty seafood thing? Are you crazy? I don’t want to eat any snotty-looking seafood?”
“You just said you want it.”
“I never said I wanted snotty-looking seafood. I want muscles.” Philip stretched out his arms and bent them.
“Ohhhh,” said Emery. “Those muscles. Muscles? That’s stupid.”
“Yeah, well, when I have muscles, and you bother me, I’ll use them.”
“I give you three wishes, and you’re going to muscle me? Forget it. I’ll get somebody else to help me then.”
Philip knew he’d gone too far. “No, I’m just kidding, Emery. Muscles are good for, you know, doing stuff. Lifting things. And they look good, right?”
Emery gazed doubtfully at Philip. “I guess so. Well, come on. Let’s go see the gypsy.”