The Wish Page 4

  “She probably can’t remember all of them,” Ardis said.

  “Try,” Nina said.

  She was worried about Liam. I named some boys who didn’t have girlfriends.

  “Who else?” Nina said.

  “Ovideo, Benjy . . .”

  “Can you imagine kissing Benjy?” BeeBee said. “Your whole face would be wet.”

  I thought he was kind of cute, actually, like a bulldog is cute in a slobbery way.

  “Who else?” Nina repeated.

  “Um, Will . . .”

  “Will and Wilma,” BeeBee said. “That works. He’s cute—”

  “Shut up, BeeBee,” Nina said. “Who else?”

  “I’m running out of memory. Daniel . . . Ricky Greiner . . .”

  Nina prompted. “Liam? Carlos? Russ?”

  “No,” I lied. “None of them.”

  “They could be Anonymous,” Nina said.

  “Carlos wouldn’t do that,” BeeBee said. “He’s too faithful.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  BeeBee said, “You want to hang out with Benjy the Slobberer? Or maybe with Furry Eyebrow?”

  That was Jared. They’d think I was nuts for doing anything with him, but telling them would at least change the subject. “Actually, I’m going to the zoo with Jared on Sunday.”

  “Oh,” BeeBee said.

  “Do you like him?” Ardis asked.

  No, but I didn’t dislike him either. “I don’t know. He doesn’t drool or anything.”

  “Not drooling is the perfect recipe for romance,” Nina said. “Points off for lousy taste.”

  Who was she to grade everybody? BeeBee was fun, and Ardis was so poised and nice. But I wasn’t sure about Nina. I wanted to like her, maybe just because she looked likable. She was almost as tall as Ardis, with a little puppy fat. Her cheeks were round, her forehead was broad, and her smile was wide. She looked friendly—till she said something.

  “Do you like people?” I asked her.

  “She’s nastiest to her friends,” BeeBee said.

  “When Reggie wants you to like him,” I said, “he wags his tail and licks you.”

  “I prefer Nina’s way,” Ardis muttered.

  “Hey, girls!” Mrs. Molzen’s voice erupted from the vestibule below. “Here comes the fuzz.” Her head rose out of the stairwell. “Lights out in fifteen minutes.”

  “Mom . . .”

  “I know there’s no school tomorrow, and I know a sleepover is no fun if you can’t stay up late. But it is late. So I want those lights out.” She left.

  Ardis, Nina, and BeeBee had almost identical nightgowns—T-shirts that went nearly to their ankles. I had pajamas. The bottoms had an elastic waistband. The top had red-plastic heart-shaped buttons. The print was red hearts pierced by black arrows on a yellow background. If the spell hadn’t been protecting me, the three of them would probably have thrown me out a window.

  Ardis and BeeBee stared, but Nina—of course—spoke. “I know,” she said, getting into her sleeping bag. “They’re your lucky pajamas.”

  “What did I say, Bernice Beryl?” BeeBee’s mother called from downstairs. “Turn those lights out.”

  “Okay, Mom.” BeeBee crossed the loft. She turned out the lights, and the skyline twinkled at us again. We heard the door close downstairs.

  It was quiet for only a second. Then BeeBee said, “Guess what.”

  Nina reached over and touched my arm outside my sleeping bag. “Shh,” she said.

  “Cut it out, guys,” BeeBee said. “They always do this to me, Wilma. I say, ‘Guess what,’ and they won’t say ‘What?’ They just wait for me to tell them anyway, which I always do, but it takes the fun out of it.”

  Now they were ganging up on BeeBee. I wondered if they ever ganged up on Nina.

  “We’re breaking you of a bad habit,” Nina said.

  “What?” I said to BeeBee. I didn’t want to be part of it.

  “Thanks,” BeeBee said. “You’re a pal.”

  “Spoilsport,” Nina said.

  “Courageous,” Ardis said.

  Did she mean the compliment? Aside from the spell?

  Ardis went on, “We should all stand up to you once in a while, Nina.”

  “Oh yeah?” But she didn’t sound mad.

  “Anyway, what?” I asked.

  “Stephanie called me. She’s back for a few days, visiting her grandmother. Her school . . .”

  I stopped listening. The Stephanie they were talking about, Stephanie Hartman, had moved away last December. She had been friends with BeeBee and Nina and Ardis, but I hardly knew her.

  “Can you come, Wilma?” BeeBee said.

  “Where? Sorry.”

  “Counting Grad Night dates?” Nina said. “Listen up. We’re going blading with Stephanie tomorrow. Can you come?”

  “I don’t have skates.” And I didn’t know how to skate. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. But I wanted to go too.

  “No problem,” BeeBee said. “You can rent.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Oh, Lord,” Nina said. “We’ll teach you how to skate.”

  “Okay, I’ll come.” It would be fun, with the three of them for teachers.

  They started talking about Stephanie again. I stared up at the faraway ceiling. A wave of homesickness washed over me, taking me by surprise. Wasn’t I having a wonderful time?

  I missed Reggie. He made me too hot and he shook the bed with his panting, but I missed him. I made a fist around the heart locket I always wore. Inside on the left was a tiny picture of Mom, and on the right was one of Reggie.

  I wondered what would have happened tonight if I had been here without the spell. Would they have liked me? I hadn’t done anything special, except bring a dog to a sleepover and let him pee on a statue.

  If Suzanne had given the old lady her seat (which was hard to imagine), and she had been made popular, she would have been here instead of me. And they would be inviting her skating and liking her exactly as much as they liked me—and she was one of the least likable people on earth.

  That made me feel funny. The person in this sleeping bag happened to be me, but it could have been anybody.

  But if it had been Suzanne, they would have spent the whole night saying nasty things about kids at Claverford, including nasty things about “beloved Wilma.” That would have been the kind of night Suzanne would have wanted.

  I was glad I wasn’t Suzanne. I’d never act like her. I’d be myself, as I had been tonight, and they’d have to love it. I could stop trying to figure out what made other kids popular. I was popular even if I never acted the part. And I’d be popular forever. After all, why would the old lady give me my wish just to take it away?

  “Wilma,” BeeBee whispered, “are you awake?”

  “She is now,” Nina said.

  “I’m awake.”

  “I’m glad you came. It’s been the best sleepover I ever had.”

  “It’s been perfect,” Ardis said.

  Nina added, “Fifty points for great company.”

  In the dark, I smiled.

  Chapter Nine

  We didn’t spend much time together in the morning because BeeBee had to rush to a class at the Art Students League. Then, in the afternoon, I got to the Chelsea Piers rink early. I stood at the edge and watched, wondering if I’d spend the evening at the hospital having my broken neck put in a cast. A few kids from school were there. It was only half a block from Claverford, so we all knew the place.

  Timothy skated by, pretending to fall. He looked like he was about to land and break his back, but he never did. Evadney was skating too, and so was Daphne. Daphne skated well, though weirdly. She didn’t seem to have bones—she just oozed around the rink.

  They all came over to say hi. I was sitting on a bench, surrounded, when BeeBee and Nina arrived wearing their skates. I looked up from lacing my rented Rollerblades.

  “Make them tight.” Nina pointed at my boots. “It gives you an illusion of s
ecurity.”

  “Steph!” BeeBee yelled.

  “Beeb!” Stephanie glided to us from across the street. She hugged BeeBee. “Neen!” She hugged Nina. I smiled at her, but she ignored me.

  “Remember Wilma?” BeeBee said. “I told you about her on the phone. Isn’t she great?”

  I smiled again. “Hi.”

  She looked at me blankly. “Hi. Where’s Ardis?” Stephanie spoke very fast: Hi-where’s-Ardis. It sounded like one word.

  “She had to go to the dentist,” Nina said. “She forgot, and her mother wouldn’t let her out of it.”

  “I’ll-yell-at-her-for-having-cavities-why aren’t-you-blading?” Stephanie said in one breath.

  “Wilma’s been living on Pluto,” Nina said. “It’s a pain, but we have to show her how to skate.”

  “She makes up for it,” BeeBee said. “You’ll see.”

  Stephanie gave me the blank look again, the way you’d look at a mushroom. Wasn’t the spell working?

  “Up, monster,” Nina said, holding her hands out to me.

  I took Nina’s hands and got up. The wheels rolled out from under me, and I sat down again—on the ground, with Nina on top of me.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “That’s all right. I love having a zipper in my eye.”

  “I kind of wanted to skate like we used to,” Stephanie said. “I missed you guys.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll watch.” I could sit on the bench and pretend to be exhausted from so much fabulous blading.

  “You don’t mind?” BeeBee said.

  “Nope.”

  “Ten points for unselfishness,” Nina said. “See, Steph, that’s what she’s like.”

  Stephanie gave me a half smile and skated away. Nina and BeeBee followed her.

  Was I imagining that Stephanie didn’t like me?

  They talked while they skated. When they passed my bench, Stephanie turned her head to look at me. They were talking about me.

  They went around for a while and then came for me.

  “The moment has come,” Nina said. “You’re blading.”

  BeeBee sat on my left. “Put your arm over my shoulder.”

  Nina got on my other side. They supported me to the edge. When I stepped down into the rink, I almost toppled Nina and BeeBee, but Stephanie straightened me from behind.

  “You’re such a klutz,” Nina said. “It’s hard to believe you know how to walk.”

  They skated me around the rink. Mostly I glided along, carried by their power, but I tried to move my feet a little. Stephanie, who was skating rings around us, said in a rush, “I-can’t-believe-how-patient-you’re-being-Neen.”

  BeeBee said, “Don’t be fooled. She’s as nasty as ever.”

  “Nasty, but patient. It’s weird.” Stephanie looked at me again.

  “Sorry for slowing you down,” I said to everybody.

  “Hey!” BeeBee said. “What are friends for?”

  Stephanie skated away.

  “She’s mad,” BeeBee said.

  “Why?”

  “She’s acting like a dope,” Nina said.

  “She’s jealous because we invited you,” BeeBee said. “She wanted to be alone with us.”

  “But if she’d give you a chance,” Nina said, “she wouldn’t mind.”

  “Did she say she doesn’t like me?”

  “She said she doesn’t like you or dislike you,” Nina said. “She doesn’t get it—why everybody likes you so much.”

  But she should have liked me. She shouldn’t have been able to stop herself. My stomach lurched a little. Was the spell ending? Was this how it would end, one person at a time? Who would be the next to go?

  They skated me around two more times, and then Nina deposited me at the rink wall.

  “I think we should skate with Stephanie some more,” BeeBee said.

  “Skate!” Nina told me. “Practice! Or you’ll never make the Olympics.” They skated away.

  They still liked me. So what was going on?

  My right leg started to go out from under me. I bent down and clutched the wall. After a few minutes, I let go and straightened up. Then I inched along, feeling like I needed a cane or, better yet, a walker.

  “Give me your hands. I’ll pull you.”

  It was Timothy, class funny man, blading backward in front of me. He’d take my hands, flip me over his head, and holler, “Timber.” I shook my head.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”

  “I’ll do it.” Evadney skated up and held out her hands. I took them, and she started pulling me.

  “Lift your feet,” Timothy said.

  “That’s good,” Evadney said. “But stop looking down. Good. Very good! Now I’m letting go of your hands. You’re on your own.”

  I was skating—really skating! Stephanie, BeeBee, and Nina passed us, holding hands and skating in step with each other—left foot, right foot, never falling out of step.

  “Way to go, Wilma,” BeeBee called as she whizzed by.

  “Faster, girl!” Nina yelled.

  Stephanie didn’t look at me.

  I tried to go faster. I put some push into my glide, like everyone else did. It worked! I grinned, and pushed even harder.

  Disaster struck. I tripped and pitched forward. I tried to save myself. I waved my arms like a windmill and sort of ran with the skates—I must have looked like an animated cartoon. Then I went down. I shot along the ground for a few feet, scraping my helmet and the side of my jaw on the concrete. Then I skidded to a stop.

  Chapter Ten

  BeeBee got to me first. “Are you okay?”

  I sat up. My face stung. Everyone from Claverford plus Stephanie stood around me. “Am I bleeding?”

  Nina crouched in front of me. “Not much. It’s a good thing you had the helmet.”

  My T-shirt was filthy. I had made an idiot of myself.

  I started to undo my skates.

  “Don’t do that,” Nina said. “You have to skate some more, or you’ll never get on a horse again.”

  So I stood up, and Nina and BeeBee and everyone else from Claverford made me skate around the rink a few more times till I began to feel sort of comfortable again. I skated solo, but they all came with me, hovering. Everybody, that is, except Stephanie.

  When Nina let me stop skating, we went to a café in the indoor part of the pier. Stephanie came too.

  We took a booth. I sat on the outside, next to BeeBee. Nina faced me, with Stephanie on the inside.

  Nina said, “So—is California worth leaving us for?”

  “You know I didn’t want to go. At first, I was so homesick, I was constantly in tears. Every night, I’d cry . . .”

  How did she talk so fast and still manage to say each word? Why did she avoid looking at me? And then when she did look, why did she stare?

  “. . . but now Mom’s letting me take this course in psychic healing. I go twice a week after school, and when my friend Keisha sprained . . .”

  Then I got it. Her blank stares were exactly the way everybody had looked at me after Ms. Hannah read the dog essay. Stephanie still saw the same Wilma everybody used to see.

  But why?

  They were all engrossed in Stephanie’s tales of the West Coast. I felt left out for the first time since I’d gotten my wish.

  So at a pause I jumped in. “How come you talk so fast?” I knew I was attacking her, but I was mad that the spell wasn’t working and she didn’t like me.

  “Yeah,” Nina said. “You haven’t slowed down from the speed of light yet.”

  “I thought they were so laid back in California,” BeeBee said.

  “They must think you’re an East Coast freak,” Nina said. “The mile-a-minute mouth.”

  Stephanie stared at us. Then she said, “Let me out.” Nina stood, and she slid out. “I’m sorry I ever—” She was fighting to keep from crying. “—I couldn’t wait to see—I missed you so mu—” She turned and ran.

  I had gotten them to
gang up on her. I felt like a total louse.

  Nina stood up. “I’ll go get her.”

  “No, I’ll go,” I said. “It’s my fault.” I wanted to tell her I was sorry.

  “Yeah,” BeeBee said. “You go. You’ll make her feel better.”

  I ran out of the café. “Stephanie!”

  She turned, and turned away again when she saw it was me.

  I caught up to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You’re right, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. It was mean. But I’m really not trying to take BeeBee and Nina away from you.”

  “They-already-are-away-I-don’t-live-here-anymore.”

  “I know, but we can all be friends.”

  “No-we-can’t.” She slowed down her blast of words. “Because . . . I . . . don’t . . . live . . . here . . . anymore. Am . . . I . . . speaking . . . slowly . . . enough . . . for . . . you?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe you’re as incredible as they say, even if you jumped on me for no reason. But why do you care about me? I’m leaving in a couple of days.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t, I guess.” This was true. I didn’t want to be friends with Stephanie the way I wanted to be with Ardis, for example. “It’s just that at Claverford they all—”

  “I’m not at Claverford.”

  Oh.

  Aaah. That was it. The old lady made me popular at Claverford. That was why Stephanie didn’t like me. What a relief. The spell was still working. I was still popular—at Claverford. And Claverford was all I cared about. “I’m sorry I was mean. Can’t you come back? Nina and BeeBee want you to.”

  “Well, I don’t want to.” She muttered something under her breath that sounded like a fast chant. I caught “forgive” and “love” and “level.” Then she said, “Tell Neen and Beeb I’ll call them. Tell them I’m not mad.”

  I headed back to the café. I should have realized. I knew I wasn’t the most popular kid in the world. Only at Claverford, just like I asked for.

  Only at Claverford! I tripped and almost fell again. If that was it, if that was really why Stephanie didn’t like me, then—then—the spell was almost over, because I wasn’t going to be at Claverford much longer. In two weeks we went to Grad Night, and the Monday after that we graduated. And next year I’d be at Elliot. I had sixteen more days of popularity. Then the wish would evaporate, and everything would go back to the way it used to be. Forever.