Good Wish Gone Bad

by Disney Book Group

  “Wait—what?” Mallory gasped, nearly swerving off the road as Rancora began to name-drop. “You’ve worked with Ross Vegas and SpikeTool?”

  “Yeah,” Rancora replied. “But MonkeyGermz was the one who taught me everything I needed to know.”

  “No way!” Mallory slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching as she made a turn. “MonkeyGermz? He’s the bomb!”

  “Right?” Rancora agreed, clutching the edge of the dark red leather seat as Mallory sped up again. “And you know what he told me?”

  Mallory shook her head and Rancora took a deep breath, not only because Mallory’s driving was somewhat terrifying but also because she was about to share some information that, if all went well, would allow her to help Mallory with her triple wish. “Producers have the power to make or break their artists—and most of us are killing the industry,” Rancora revealed.

  “Seriously?” Mallory focused her wide eyes on Rancora as she pulled the car to a sudden stop on the side of the road. “How so?”

  “We’re covering everything up too much—making artists sound too perfect, not enough like themselves,” Rancora explained.

  Mallory slammed her hands against the red leather steering wheel and nodded. “Yes! Yes! I’ve been saying that for years! And I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing with Juan.”

  Rancora acted as if she understood but then, somewhat confused, tilted her head. “Why did you stop the car?”

  “Oh—we’re here!” Mallory pointed out the car window at a small white house with a red door.

  After they both got out, Mallory led Rancora up a brick path, which divided the front yard in two and then wound around to the back of the house, where there was a smaller white building. It appeared to be what Wishlings called a garage, but when Mallory clicked on a small black device and the large, heavy door slowly opened, Rancora saw that it was filled with all sorts of musical instruments and electronic equipment.

  “Come on in,” Mallory said as she sat down on a rolling metal stool and positioned herself in front of one of several computer monitors sitting on a massive black desk.

  Rancora took the other rolling stool and sat next to Mallory, who began clicking on various images on the monitor until a series of videos came up.

  “I’m sure you’ve already seen all these,” Mallory said as she scrolled through the images, which each had Juan’s name and a song title next to them.

  “Of course.” Rancora narrowed her eyes as she examined the screen. “Do you have anything new—stuff you haven’t finished producing yet?”

  “Oh, yeah—tons.” Mallory clicked over to an image of a folder titled JUAN-ROUGH CUTS, which contained a list of at least fifty files. “But he would kill me if I ever played these for anyone without mixing them first.”

  That was it—Rancora’s chance to help Mallory make her wish, or possibly all three wishes, come true.

  “I bet they’re not that bad,” Rancora said. “Remember what I was saying earlier about what MonkeyGermz told me?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Well, it’s true,” Rancora interjected. “You have to give the public a chance to hear the real Juan. Weren’t you telling me earlier how much you wished his fans could hear what he really sounds like?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” said Mallory as she again scowled at Rancora like she’d just morphed into a Juannabe. “I mean, if you heard this stuff—”

  Rancora smiled and tightened her fists, ready to go in for the kill. “But I haven’t,” she insisted. “Nobody has but you. So pick a track and put it up online. It’s the honest thing to do.”

  “I don’t know.” Mallory mashed her dark purple lips together and took a deep breath.

  “Don’t you see?” Rancora demanded, desperate to get the mission moving. “This isn’t just a chance to show people the real Juan—it’s a chance to show them the real you, the producer who works the magic that makes him sound so amazing. Finally, you’ll get the credit you deserve!”

  Rancora looked from Mallory to the screen, where she could see the tiny arrow hovering over one of the unmixed videos. She looked down at Mallory’s hand, positioned over the computer mouse, trembling but so close to clicking it. Rancora centered her eyes upon Mallory’s fingers, mustering every bit of negative energy manipulation she could until—at last!—Mallory clicked down and dragged the file over to the LinkTube window.

  As the video began to upload, Rancora braced herself for the first wave of negative energy she would collect. As soon as that video went live, Mallory’s first wish—for people to hear what Juan really sounded like—would come true. But would they see that he wasn’t as great as they thought? Would he get hundreds of negative comments? That would take time.

  However, the moment Juan’s video went live, a fantastic cloud of negative energy flowed like a black fog from Mallory and went swirling into the crystal teardrop hanging around Rancora’s neck.

  But that’s not what thrilled Rancora the most—it was the sound of Juan’s voice and the rough mix of the video that sent a surge of power coursing through her once again. He sounded awful—and over the course of the next several minutes, the views began to add up. Mallory’s other two wishes would come true in no time. Rancora was certain of it!

  Sure enough, the backlash from Juan’s fans was almost immediate and the comments became more and more brutal as the minutes ticked by.

  Is this a joke? asked one.

  My ears are bleeding! said another.

  I want those three minutes and nine seconds of my life back, a former fan lamented.

  Is there any way to un-watch that? begged yet another.

  I Juannabe as far away from that video as possible, someone else declared.

  As she read one comment after another, Mallory shot a panicked look at Rancora—but it was too late for her to turn back. Another huge dark cloud of negative energy was already swirling around her and winding its way over to Rancora’s pendant.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Mallory cringed, slapping a hand over her eyes in an apparent attempt to shield them from all the hateful comments Juan’s video had already received. “I have to take it down—don’t I?”

  Rancora shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she insisted. “Give it some time. His true fans will probably see the raw talent that’s still there and come to his defense—plus, we need to wait until people start commenting on the production of all the earlier videos when they realize how different this one looks and sounds. You’ll finally get the credit and stardom you deserve!”

  Of course Rancora didn’t really care if any of that happened. She simply needed to ensure that the video stayed up long enough for bad wish number three—the gathering of hundreds of negative comments—to come true. So she sat there with Mallory, waiting as patiently as she possibly could, drawing strength from all the negative energy she had collected. Ultimately, within less than an hour, it had happened. The third wish had been fulfilled and the most enormous cloud of negative energy that Rancora had ever seen began to swirl around Mallory, practically filling up the entire studio before winding into a thick tornado and diving into the crystal pendant with a final, satisfying swoosh.

  Back in the Negative Energy Facility at last, Rancora shed her glimmermoth form and struggled to walk as she made her way through the fine gray mist and past the rows of moaning and wailing orbs. When she finally reached her lair in the back of the NEF, Rancora would greet all the little images of the Wishlings she’d assisted on her bad Wish Missions, which were now joined by Mallory’s sad face.

  But instead, she doubled over in agony. That was the one unfortunate side effect of helping to grant bad wishes: each mission depleted her—and left her feeling physically ill. Of course she should have known that granting three bad wishes in such close succession would exhaust her more than any single mission had.

  Once she could walk again, Rancora marched over to a large black box sitting on her dark glass b
ench and carefully raised the lid. Inside, resting on a bed of velvety gray fabric, was a giant version of the crystal teardrop hanging around her neck. She removed her pendant and transferred the negative energy from the smaller teardrop to the larger one, just as she always did when she returned from a bad Wish Mission. But this time, the giant crystal began to shake with an intensity Rancora had never seen before, and that was when she knew that it had finally been filled to capacity.

  “At last! At last!” she screamed with victorious delight, raising the enormous teardrop over her head. “At last I have enough!”

  She had been waiting for that day—the day she would have enough negative energy to take over Starland—for so long. And now, finally, it was time for her to move on to the next phase of her plan.

  Rancora had made the long and perilous journey to the Isle of Misera many times, but the boat ride seemed swift and almost effortless now that she knew it was only a short time before she began to destroy Starland. Under the dark shroud of night, she felt a chilling satisfaction as she approached the shore, where black water lapped at the glowing gray sand. Clutching her precious box with the large crystal teardrop inside, along with the negatite rock that had come from Mallory’s Bad Wish Orb, she trained her fiery eyes at the prow of the boat to slowly guide it onto the rocky beach. Then she made her way toward the familiar path that cut through a forest of thorny, knotted trees.

  When she reached the end of the path, Rancora headed straight for the Negatite Garden—an enormous glass house where she had been cultivating the plants that would be crucial in her plan to infiltrate Starling Academy. Her old friend Stella had been headmistress of their alma mater for far too long, and it had taken almost as many decades of bad Wish Missions for Rancora to gather enough negative energy to take over Starland. It was now time to perform her most challenging transformation spell yet.

  As she slid open the transparent door to the garden, the entire house began to hiss and gasp, and Rancora could hear the gnarled shrubs and tattered blossoms crying out, each one begging for her to tend to it first.

  “Don’t worry, my darlings,” she cooed after quickly grinding Mallory’s negatite rock into powder and placing it in a long glass test tube. Then, making her way along the rows, she sprinkled the dark dust into the soil below. “There’s more than enough for everyone.”

  The plants heaved and sighed, twisting and bending toward Rancora as she continued to feed them the sinister sustenance they craved.

  “I know, my darlings, I know,” she told them as she made her way to the back corner in search of one plant in particular. “You’re ready to go on a mission of your own and I’m ready, too!”

  Rancora walked over to the very first twinklefoil shrub she had ever planted, and bent down to check the negatite level in the pot. Her purple eyes glowed with delight on discovering how far it had come. As she plucked one of its enormous gray blossoms, it let out a twisted scream and instantly sprouted long, sharp thorns from its thick wood-like stem.

  “Silence!” Rancora snapped at the plant, and the thorns immediately retracted. “This is why I’ve been feeding you so well, and at last you’ve delivered!”

  As the plant curled and wheezed apologetically, Rancora gave it a gentle pat and stormed back through the garden and out the glass door. Certain that she now had everything she needed, she raced across the dusty landscape toward the cottage where she had stored the rest of the ingredients.

  On arriving at the sagging wooden structure, Rancora flung open the door and ignited several candles with a silent, negative energy–fueled command. She marched across the cold black floor to a jagged tree stump that functioned as a table, and set down the gray flower next to a holo-book entitled Negatite Magic. Next she lifted the lid off a large container and began to examine each of the ingredients gathered over the course of her many bad Wish Missions. But it wasn’t until she came to a pair of old but still sparkling friendship charms—hers in pale blue and Stella’s in golden pink—that a solitary, shimmering tear began to make its way down Rancora’s sunken gray cheek. She scowled as she wondered if Stella had even noticed she’d taken both halves of the charm they shared on the day she was expelled from Starling Academy.

  “Enough!” Rancora roared at herself, brushing away the lone tear and dropping the charms back into the container.

  She quickly grabbed the Negatite Magic holo-book and scrolled through until she found the recipe she had been studying for several long decades. It was finally time to get to work, and she didn’t want to waste another moment. So she gathered up the container full of ingredients and the flower she had just plucked from the Negatite Garden and carefully followed the recipe, step by step, muttering the directions to herself as she did so:

  1. In a simmering pot of Misera’s black waters, place the hairs of at least ten distressed Wishling daughters.

  2. Crumble in petals from one twinklefoil that’s dried up after growing in negatite soil.

  3. Melt down two charms that still sparkle and glow for a friendship whose light went out long, long ago.

  4. As all the ingredients bubble and shimmer, turn down the heat and continue to simmer.

  5. When the liquid transforms to a bright purple hue, simply drink it down and become a new you!

  It took the better part of the night, but at last the cooking and conjuring were complete. Carefully, Rancora transferred the formula to a large silver mug and gazed down at the surface as it continued to shimmer and swirl. Would it really work? There was only one way to find out—so after taking a deep breath, she brought the mug to her lips and gulped it down.

  Almost instantly, Rancora’s entire body grew rigid and began to convulse. With arms splayed out, she dropped the mug and it clanged and clattered on the dusty ground as a thick purple cloud began swirling around her. Breathing in the enchanted fog, she felt as if she was shrinking and expanding all at once until, finally, the lavender mist dissipated and a sense of calm washed over her.

  Slowly, Rancora brought her hands to her face and discovered that her sunken cheeks had become full and plump. She continued to trace the contours up to her hair, which was now tied back into a perfectly round bun and fastened with a big soft bow. Meanwhile, her tattered gray gown had been replaced with a shiny purple blouse and skirt, and she wore a pair of sparkling purple stockings and sandals fastened with glowing silver buckles. Of course, she had gone through thousands of transformations during her journeys to Wishworld, but this was different—this was the result of everything she’d been working toward!

  She walked to a dusty old mirror and studied her reflection. It was both repulsive and marvelous—the purple hair, eyes, and lips and the short, rotund physique that had entirely obliterated her long, lean frame. Rancora cringed at the way she sparkled as brightly as she had when she was a young Starling. As painful as it was to look at herself, it was also precisely what she needed to see to get into character completely. So once she’d absorbed every last detail, she clasped her hands together and took a little bow toward the mirror. Then, finally, she introduced herself as meekly as possible to an imaginary Lady Stella:

  “I-I-I-I am Lady C-C-C-Cordial,” she stammered. “I understand you are in n-n-n-need of a n-n-n-new director of adm-m-m-missions.”

  Yes. She was almost too good. Rancora widened her eyes and beamed at her reflection—and once she began smiling, it was impossible to stop. This was bound to be the performance of her lifetime, and she couldn’t hide the delight she took in knowing that the day had finally arrived. At long last, she was going to be able to put the plans she’d been making for so long into action!

  It had been almost a year since Rancora—disguised as Lady Cordial—successfully tricked Lady Stella into hiring her as Starling Academy’s director of admissions, and although most of the faculty and staff tended to avoid her, she had used her powers of negative energy manipulation to convince them of her invaluable contributions to the school. Best of all, she knew Stella well enough to say
all the right things and had become a trusted member of Lady Stella’s inner circle. The headmistress regularly confided in and sought counsel from Lady Cordial—and sometimes it felt almost like old times, as though they had become best friends once again. At one point, Lady Cordial had even come dangerously close to dropping her facade—but fortunately Lady Stella had been too lost in her own thoughts to notice.

  Although she was eager to unleash all the negative energy she had collected over so many years, Lady Cordial knew that she needed to pace herself. If she gradually increased Starland’s negative energy levels, nobody would suspect what was happening until it was too late—and then she would seize control. So as she wandered through the school grounds in her bright purple disguise, she took quiet satisfaction in each subtle way the release of negative energy over the past year had begun to take its toll—slightly less sparkle here, a bit of student unrest there.

  One afternoon, as the academic year was coming to a close, Lady Cordial decided to discharge a carefully measured but significantly larger dose of negative energy during her lunch break on the grassy banks of Luminous Lake. On her way there, she covertly took out the dark crystal teardrop hanging beneath her blouse and allowed a small gust of negative energy to escape. Almost instantly, the trunk of a nearby ozziefruit tree lost at least half of its former shine, and many of the blue and orange leaves became parched and gray.

  When she reached the water’s edge, Lady Cordial spread out her fluffy purple picnic blanket and sat down. As she gazed out at the azure surface of the lake, her mind suddenly flashed back to the surprise Bright Day party she had thrown for Stella so long ago—and then, as she turned her attention to Star Prep, in the distance, she couldn’t help thinking about Theodore, her long-lost love. Her purple lips curled bitterly as she contemplated all that had been so unfairly taken from her, and once again, she lifted the stopper on her crystal pendant and released a slightly larger cloud of negative energy than she had initially intended. As it traveled out onto the lake, the surface turned almost as black and marvelously vile as the waters of Misera.