Chapter 11

Walking.

Walking was what Tina considered the old-fashioned way of getting places. The four of us reached the interstate pretty quickly on foot. It was midmorning by now, and the summer heat seemed to be increasing with every step.

Cars whizzed by at high speed, not even slowing to acknowledge our ragtag group. Tina and Vale led the way, with Ridge and me following a few yards behind. Neither pair spoke to the other out of a stubborn determination not to be the next Wishmaker to wish.

After a long stretch in the blazing sunlight, Vale suddenly stopped under the shade of a scrubby tree. She turned around and threw her hands in the air, red hair sweaty and plastered on her forehead.

“You have the power of the Universe at your fingertips, and we’re walking!” Vale shouted. She looked at Tina, and then at me. “Would one of you please make a wish?”

As Ridge and I drew into the shade beside the girls, I could see that Tina’s resolve was weakening. I completely understood her desire to avoid a consequence, but wasn’t walking in the summer heat a consequence of its own?

“Rock, paper, scissors,” I said to Tina.

“What?” she asked, wiping a bit of sweat from her face.

“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors,” I said. “The loser has to make a wish that’ll help us get to Mount Rushmore.”

Tina squinted out across the highway, apparently deep in thought. “Yeah, all right,” she finally said. Tina held out her right fist, ready to compete for the wish.

“Best out of three?” I asked.

“Waste of time,” Tina said. “First round wins.”

Tina was smart and she didn’t mess around. I studied her sweaty face, wondering if she was the type to play scissors or a rock. For some reason she didn’t seem like a paper person to me.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” I said, the two of us shaking our fists and displaying our choice on the third count. My hand was out flat, and my decision to play paper paid off.

Tina’s fist was a rock. I held up my paper hand, a victorious smile tugging at my lips. Tina stepped back, scuffing the ground with her foot.

“That’s never made sense,” Ridge said.

“I beat Tina’s rock,” I replied.

“With paper?” Ridge asked. “How does paper beat a rock?”

“Paper covers rock,” I answered.

“But a rock could easily rip through paper,” Ridge said, “even if it was covered.”

I scratched my head. “It’s not supposed to make sense,” I said. “It’s just a game.” I turned back to Tina, shrugging good-naturedly. “And I won.”

Tina was biting her cheek in thought. I was anxious to see how she would handle the wish. On one hand, she could wish for something big and magical—a hover car or a giant eagle to carry us to our destination. But that was likely to have a fairly steep consequence, putting us back on Thackary’s trail without any effort on our part. Ridge had said that a less direct wish would typically result in an easier consequence.

“I wish,” Tina began, “that the next car to pass us will blow out a tire.”

“Umm,” I cut in, as the hourglass watch opened on her wrist. “Are you sure that’s a good wish?” It made no sense to me. If we wanted a car to take us somewhere, it would need four tires.

“All right,” said Vale, ignoring my concerns. “If you want the next passing car to lose a tire, then every time you sit down, you’ll scream.”

“How long will this go on?” Tina asked.

“Just until the end of the week.”

“Will I constantly scream?” Tina asked. “Or just let out one little shout?”

“One short scream,” answered Vale.

“How loud will I scream?”

“That’s hard to describe,” Vale said. “About like this.” She gave a little shriek. It wasn’t a full-volume bloodcurdling scream, but it certainly wasn’t very quiet.

“What if I don’t want to?” Tina asked. “Or if I forget?”

“The Universe won’t let you miss it,” answered Vale. “It will be a reaction. Like sneezing.”

Tina was getting into the details, which I could appreciate, but her hourglass was nearly out of time!

“What do you decide?” Vale asked.

I don’t know why Ridge thought it was a good idea to cut in with a scenario for Tina to consider. Her time was already short. “What if you get kidnapped, and someone comes to rescue you? The only way to get out is to sit down on the ground and slide through a laundry chute. But when you sit down to escape, the consequence makes you scream and the bad guy comes in and stops you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I just want her to think through all the possibilities,” Ridge said. “Sometimes a consequence doesn’t seem so bad at the time you accept it. Then later, you regret not thinking it through.”

“You don’t think it through when I make a wish,” I pointed out.

“There usually isn’t time,” said Ridge. “We’re under a very strict deadline before the deal expires.”

“So is Tina,” I said. “She doesn’t get extra time to make her wishes.” I paused. “Does she . . . ?”

I turned to ask Tina how long her white hourglass timer was, but in that precise moment, there was a loud bang, a screeching of tires, and a clunky blue Oldsmobile veered off to the side of the interstate. Its tire had blown to shreds, and the driver looked a mix of angry and surprised as he limped the vehicle to a stop just fifty yards ahead of where we stood.

“Our ride’s here,” Tina said, gesturing to the old Oldsmobile. She must have accepted the consequence while Ridge and I were debating. “And, no,” she added. “I don’t get extra time.”