Chapter 33

We moved along the streets of downtown San Antonio, finally approaching the address of the cave, though I didn’t see how a cave could be very secret if it was right in the middle of a big city.

I was nervous about the day. When my week had started with Ridge, it seemed as though it would never end. Now our time together was quickly drawing to a close. I glanced at the watch face on the top of the hourglass.

“Anybody know what time this all began?” I asked. If we were going to cut it this close, I wanted to know exactly when my quest would expire.

“I think it was just before noon,” Ridge answered. “I remember because you were making lunch.”

“I don’t always eat lunch right at noon,” I said.

“I opened Vale’s jar at 11:47,” Tina said. “I was down at the hospital cafeteria. I thought it seemed important to remember the time, so I checked the clock.”

Of course she did. I agreed that it was important. I assumed that the exact time would be the deadline for my quest. “Ridge,” I said, “I wish to know exactly what time you came out of the jar in my kitchen.”

“All right. If you want to know what time I first arrived,” said Ridge, “then whenever you go up or down stairs, you’ll have to step with both feet on every stair.”

“Oh, man! Like a little kid?” I had seen toddlers, not yet comfortable with stairs, making a half step at a time, lining up both feet before braving another.

“How long will that last?” I asked.

“Just the day.”

Only a day? That wouldn’t be too bad. It would be worth taking my time on the stairs so I could know exactly how many minutes I had left to complete my quest.

“Bazang,” I said.

“It was 11:49,” Ridge answered as my hourglass snapped away.

“Two minutes after me,” Vale pointed out.

“See?” Ridge said. “I told you it was right before noon.”

“That means we only have about an hour left,” I muttered, suddenly regretting the way that I had spent the week.

“Maybe we can wish for more time,” Tina said. “Maybe the Universe will give us an extension to complete our quests.”

“You can ask,” Vale answered. “But I wouldn’t mess with the seven-day assignment. I’ve never heard of a Wishmaker who could bear that consequence.”

I was having a hard enough time accepting the little consequences. I wasn’t in the mood to make any extra wishes. I just wanted to get to the stupid cave, find Thackary, and lock him down so he couldn’t touch the jar.

“So, what will happen when the time expires?” I asked.

“It’s over,” said Vale. “No more wishing.”

“But I’ll still have the jar,” I said. “Can’t I—”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Vale cut me off. “We’re with each Wishmaker for exactly seven days.”

“What if someone completes their quest early?” I asked.

“Doesn’t change anything,” Vale said. “We just get to hang out and make fun wishes until the seven days are up. But you won’t have the jar when the time runs out.”

“What do you mean?” I said, holding out the plastic peanut butter container. “I’ll just hang on to it.”

“When the time runs out,” said Ridge, “I will automatically go back into the jar. But the jar . . .” He trailed off, as if upset about the unspoken part of the sentence. But Vale, who seemed more hardened to the ways of the Universe, finished his thought.

“The jar disappears.”

I looked down at the peanut butter genie jar in my hand. Even after just one week, it was hard to imagine life without it and its occupant. “Where does it go?”

“The Universe takes it,” said Ridge. “The jar gets prepared to go into the hands of the next Wishmaker.”

I looked at Ridge. “You’re going into someone else’s pantry?” I was surprised at the notes of sadness in my voice.

Ridge shrugged. “I won’t always be peanut butter,” he said. “The Universe disguises the jar into whatever it needs to be so that the next Wishmaker will open it.”

“Who’s the next Wishmaker?” I asked. I wasn’t jealous. Just let down. After all we’d been through together, Ridge was going to disappear and fall into the hands of some other kid?

“Only the Universe knows,” Vale said.

Tina suddenly stopped walking, her feet planted squarely on the sidewalk and her face turned up at the tall skyscraper building beside us as she absently scratched her left elbow.

“Isn’t this it?” she asked, pointing to the numbered address hanging above the reflective glass doors. “Isn’t that the address of the cave?”

I chose not to respond, since I’d have to ask a question back. How could Tina be right? Have you ever seen a cave that looked like a skyscraper?

“That’s it, all right,” Vale seconded, as I saluted a passing white car. “At least, that’s the address Ace gave us when he made the wish.”

“Maybe he told us the wrong numbers,” Ridge offered.

“I didn’t tell you the wrong numbers,” I said, staring up at the meaningless squiggles above the door. It was good to know that I’d be able to read again in a little less than an hour. “What does it say?”

Ridge read the words. “‘Museum of Cans, Crates, Cartons, and Containers.’”

I scoffed. “That sounds like the most boring museum ever.”

“Containers don’t have to be boring, Ace,” said the genie. “It’s all about what’s inside them.”

“It’s probably just empty containers,” I said. “Otherwise wouldn’t it say ‘Museum of Things Inside Cans, Crates, Cartons, and Containers’?”

“I don’t think that would have fit above the door,” Ridge said. “They had limited space.”

“They could have used a smaller font.”

“Does it really matter?” Tina cut in.

“Is the sky blue?” I answered with a nonsense question.

“It still looks orange to me,” Tina answered.

“We should wait here and stop Thackary if he tries to go inside,” I said.

“Unless he already went inside,” Tina said. “We should go in and check it out.”

Tina made a good point. We’d fail our quests for sure if we spent the last hour waiting on the sidewalk while Thackary made his way into the cave.

“I thought you said someone was supposed to be waiting for us,” Vale said.

I nodded. “Whoever it is will probably be inside. And we’re supposed to ask a question,” I reminded everyone. “‘When is a door not a door?’”

“What do you think that means?” Ridge asked.

“How should I know?” I shrugged. “Let’s go find out.”

The four of us strode through the shiny front doors of the museum, Tina muttering “alley-oop.” We were greeted by an exploding lightbulb overhead, showering us with tiny fragments of broken glass. The radio was playing some soft classical music, but it quickly turned to static in Tina’s presence. There was a little gift shop off to one side and the museum exhibits lay just ahead.

Acting as an entry gate was a reception desk with a nice bouquet of yellow flowers. The moment I saw them, I felt a mosquito bite my neck. I quickly slapped it away, and might have even killed the pesky insect. But then I made the mistake of looking back at the flowers, and I felt another mosquito bite my wrist.

Behind the desk with the dangerous flowers was a strange little man. He was barely my height, and very overweight. He wore thick round glasses with heavy red frames. The top of his head was mostly bald, and he had combed the remaining hair on both sides straight out. The effect made him look like he’d stuck his finger in the electrical outlet. But the strangest thing was his unibrow. The single bushy eyebrow was inching its way across his forehead like a fuzzy caterpillar.

“Good morning,” I said, averting my gaze from the flower bouquet, as the four of us approached the desk.

The man seemed to jump at the sound of my voice. I didn’t know how he’d missed us coming through the front door and blowing out a lightbulb. It was as if he’d been asleep while standing up with his eyes open.

“Oh, blimey!” cried the man. His hand darted up to his forehead, snatching his wandering unibrow and returning it to its rightful place above his eyes. “Welcome to the Museum of Cans, Crates, Cartons, and Containers!” His voice carried a whimsical British accent. “I am your friendly, knowledgeable curator!”

I peered past him into the exhibits, scanning for Thackary and his son. I didn’t see anyone, but the museum seemed quite large. The Anderthons could be hiding.

Tina leaned forward, placing one hand on the desk for emphasis. “When is a door not a door?”

The curator exhaled sharply, his red glasses slipping down his nose and his unibrow suddenly leaping clear up to his former hairline.

“Oh, that’s curious indeed,” he muttered. Then, pushing up his glasses and pulling down his eyebrow, the curator stepped around the edge of the desk. Lowering his voice, he answered the question Tina had posed. “A door is not a door when it’s ajar.”

“A jar?” I asked, raising Ridge’s genie jar. “Like this one?”

“Not a jar,” said the curator. “Ajar.”

I looked at Ridge, Tina, and Vale. “Is it just me, or does he keep saying the same thing?”

“Ajar,” said Vale. “As in, the door is slightly open. It’s ajar.”

“Oh,” I cried, finally understanding the riddle. “Ajar!”

The curator nodded impatiently. “I see you travel with genies,” said the curator. I don’t know why I was surprised to hear him speak so openly about Ridge and Vale. After all, we had just given him a secret riddle that we’d learned from the Universe.

I was anxious to get into the museum and search for the Anderthons. “Did anyone get here before us?”

“Oh, yes,” said the curator, nodding solemnly. “Two visitors arrived not twenty minutes ago.”

I felt my heart catch, and I tried to rush past the desk. But the curator clucked his tongue, reaching out with one pudgy hand and gripping my shoulder. He lifted me up with insane, inhuman strength and deposited me back on the other side of the desk.

“Before you enter the museum,” the curator said, “you’ll need to jar those genies for the duration of the tour.”

“What?” I turned to Ridge, my only defense in an emergency. If he was in the jar, I’d be on my own. By the sound of it, Thackary and Jathon were already inside. I needed a backup plan. I needed a way to thwart Thackary Anderthon in case he got to the Undiscovered Genie while Ridge was still in his jar.

After the curator’s impressive show of strength, I didn’t feel right about trying to get past him.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” I said to Tina, Vale, and the curator. Taking Ridge by the arm, I pulled him over to the museum’s tiny gift shop, another lightbulb exploding as I passed under it.

“What are you doing?” Ridge asked.

“Can I tell you in a moment?” I studied the shelves of keepsakes, looking for something small that would easily tuck into my pocket. There were decorative pins, plenty of pamphlets, and a rack of cloth bags embroidered with the museum logo. “I’m strategizing,” I said, picking out a fridge magnet from a little bin.

“Oh, really,” said Ridge. “Because it looks like you’re enjoying this museum so much that you want a souvenir.”

I held up the little fridge magnet. It was the shape of a soup can with a label that had some writing on it. Even though I couldn’t read it, I assumed the text said Museum of Cans, Crates, Cartons, and Containers.

“All right,” I said to Ridge. “Here’s my plan.”