The Wish Stealers

by Trivas, Tracy

  The Wish Stealers

  BY TRACY TRIVAS

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Aladdin hardcover edition January 2010

  Copyright © 2010 by Tracy Trivas

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or business@simonandschuster.com.

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  Designed by Lisa Vega

  The text of this book was set in Adobe Garamond.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1209 FFG

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

  ISBN 978-1-4169-8725-3

  ISBN 978-1-4169-9733-7 (eBook)

  For Alexander and Hadley,

  my Wish Givers

  Chapter

  1

  Griffin Penshine had three freckles under her left eye that sometimes looked like stars. This was a good thing, as Griffin was always wishing. She wished when a ladybug landed on a windowsill, she wished on dandelion dust, and she even wished on tumbling eyelashes. In fact, she often rescued the eyelash of a friend and reminded her to wish. But then again, Griffin always noticed the smallest of details. She could track her way out of a forest, spotted everything from worms to woodbeetles, and giggled at absurd words on menus like “jumbo shrimp.” Griffin also liked certain things a certain way. She loved peanut butter on brownies, hated wearing turtlenecks, and insisted her mom buy cool mint toothpaste.

  On the last Sunday of a hot Kansas summer, a ladybug flew in through Griffin’s bedroom window and landed on her arm. Griffin smiled and opened her new blue-lined notebook and scribbled her next few wishes.

  I wish all vegetables had cool names like bok choy, alfalfa, and parsnip.

  I wish to become an amazing bass guitarist.

  Griffin thought for a moment and then crossed off her first wish. She didn’t want to waste a wish on vegetables. As for being a great bass guitarist, she wished for that every chance she got. Too bad she hadn’t wished for protection. But how could she know that within one hour the most horrible curse would fling itself at her and coil through her long, beautiful shiny red hair?

  “Griffin!” called her mom from downstairs. “We’re going to be late.” Griffin’s mother, an astronomer, loved to calculate the time it would take to reach Saturn, Neptune, the Andromeda galaxy, and even the center of town. She knew if they didn’t leave in five minutes they would not make their afternoon appointments. Dr. Penshine hated being late, and she loved to wear her huge collection of inspirational T-shirts that said things like SAVE THE EARTH. Only now that Dr. Penshine was pregnant, the words stretched over her huge bump and read save the ear.

  Griffin giggled from the top of the stairs. “I like your shirt, Mom.”

  Dr. Penshine looked down at her bulging tummy. “Ears need saving too!” she said, laughing.

  Griffin grabbed her bass guitar, ran down the stairs, and slid into the car.

  “Before I drop you off at your music lesson, I need to make a fifteen-minute stop at Mr. Schmidt’s shop,” said her mom. “He received a shipment of artifacts from Egypt—ancient clay scarab beetles—and an antique model of the solar system from an English castle. He’s saving them for me.”

  “Okay,” said Griffin. She didn’t mind stopping. Mr. Schmidt, their neighbor, had the strangest objects at his store. Maybe she would find something for her pet turtle, Charlemagne’s, terrarium or a good luck charm for tomorrow—the first day of sixth grade at her new middle school—or some cool object for her Mysterium Collection Box that she hid under her bed.

  Although it was only a shoe box with a rectangle of midnight blue felt lining the bottom, inside the box were two eagle feathers passed down by her great-grandfather before they became illegal to keep, half of a heart from her best-friend-forever necklace she shared with Libby Barrett, an old lace valentine her grandma Penshine had made as a girl, and three smooth stones.

  Her grandma had given her the three lucky stones: a moonstone thought to have the power to grant wishes, a tigereye for courage, and a piece of purple amethyst. Her grandma said Leonardo da Vinci believed amethyst could protect people from evil and make them smarter.

  Too bad she didn’t take her purple stone in her pocket that morning. But she wouldn’t think of that until it was too late.

  A COLLECTIBLES, ANTIQUES, AND WONDERS sign hung above the door to Mr. Schmidt’s tiny shop.

  Griffin pushed open the door. Rusted bells jingled, and smells of dust, must, and exotic spices twisted up her nose. Long rows of glass shelves with faded lace fans, heavy silver hand mirrors, ladies’ hair combs made of bone and shell, and stained decks of old maid cards glowed under the dim cabinet light.

  At the back of the store, from behind a velvet curtain, Mr. Schmidt poked his head out. “Good morning, Dr. Penshine and Griffin,” he said. “Let me get that prized antique I was telling you about.” He shuffled away.

  Griffin bent her head over a glass case, looking at the lapis eye of a peacock feather and a mirror made of pitch-black polished stone. A handwritten card attached to the exotic feather read: From India 1913. Believed to make wishes come true. Under the circular black stone the card read: Obsidian mirror—used by the ancient Alchemists, passed down from Aztec priests. See your future!

  A chill blasted through the room, and Griffin looked up. Behind the counter appeared the oldest woman she had ever seen, wearing a long black dress with a wilting red lily pinned to it. With her greasy gray hair pulled tightly into a bun, the woman’s face resembled a shriveled apple. Wicked wrinkles gouged in her skin, and a grid of purple veins looked like a grotesque spiderweb covering her face.

  Griffin stared.

  The woman’s eyes drank in Griffin. Then in a low, crackly voice she said, “Only once before in my life have I seen that shiny liquid red color woven into a girl’s hair—half autumn leaves and caramel kisses, half blazing sunset.”

  “Griff?” said her mom, coming from behind her. “Find anything?”

  “Dr. Penshine and Griffin, forgive me,” said Mr. Schmidt, returning from the back room. “I need to introduce my great-aunt Mariah Weatherby Schmidt, who has come from Topeka to visit for a few weeks. She offered to help me today at the store.”

  A sinister smile curled on Mariah’s cracked lips. “What a pleasure to meet you, Griffin Penshine. What are you looking for today?”

  “Something for my turtle’s terrarium or something lucky for the first day of school,” Griffin said.

  “I see,” said Mariah, her yellow eyes narrowing. “I have just the thing for you. One moment.”

  Griffin looked at her mom, but she was too busy examining the antique model of the solar system.

  Mariah disappeared through the heavy curtain. Griffin’s head spun. The scent of spices, mandarin orange,
dried lavender, cloves, and incense pounded in her brain. “Mom, I have a headache. I’m going to wait outside.”

  “Okay. I’ll be five more minutes,” she said.

  Just as Griffin’s hand touched the doorknob to leave, Mariah’s cold hand brushed hers. “Where are you going, dear?” She held out a ring box. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?” asked Griffin, not moving from the door.

  “Open it,” the old woman said, beckoning with her long, spindly fingers.

  Griffin slowly took the box from Mariah’s bony hand and looked inside. Beams of light shot out all over the ceiling like lasers, illuminating the store. Carefully Griffin removed a single Indian Head penny.

  It bounced in her hand.

  “That’s the shiniest penny I’ve ever seen,” said Dr. Penshine.

  “I’m sure it is,” said Mariah. “I never forget to … polish it. It is priceless. An Indian Head penny from 1897. Very rare, very valuable, and shall we say … very lucky.”

  “Wow,” said Griffin, mesmerized by the pulsing glow. Droplets of light sprinkled all over the room.

  “It must be yours!” said Mariah, her eyes flashing.

  The strangest sensation knotted inside Griffin, part repulsion, part desire. “How much is it?” she asked.

  “It is my special gift to you.” Mariah smiled wickedly. For a moment Griffin swore Mariah looked younger, luminescent, something wild and alive in her eyes.

  “I can’t take something priceless for free,” said Griffin, now blinded by the magnificent penny.

  “Just promise you’ll keep it shiny, and it will be … worth it to me. You will accept my gift, won’t you?”

  Every cell in Griffin’s body fought to say, “No. No, thank you!” But the Indian Head penny shined so hypnotically that Griffin could hardly speak. Her pupils dilated from the beams shooting off the penny. She tried to shake her head, stop the odd breeze that whirled around her body. No, she mouthed, but no sound came out. Instead “Yes” exhaled from her lips.

  Mariah froze. Then very deliberately she said, “It is done. Let me get a box of polishing cloths from the back for you. Give me a few moments to find it.”

  Griffin tucked the penny into her pocket, and it burned against her skin.

  Penny, penny bring me luck,

  ’cause I’m the one who picked you up.

  Chapter

  2

  How neat to have a lucky penny for the first day of school, Griff,” said her mom, carrying her own prized antique back to their car.

  “Yeah, but why do you think Mariah said ‘It is done’?” asked Griffin. Goose bumps sprouted on her arms when she repeated the words.

  “Probably just an old-fashioned saying. She really is ancient,” said her mom.

  Suddenly a cloud above them smothered the light in the sky. Both Griffin and her mom looked up and at the exact same time said, “It looks like it’s going to rain!”

  “WISH!” Griffin said, smiling. She believed that whenever two people said the exact same thing at the exact same time, a wish would be granted. Griffin counted quickly on her fingers. “It looks like it’s going to rain” had seven words in it. “Seven wishes!” she said to her mom.

  “You already know what I wish for seven times,” said Dr. Penshine with a dreamy smile on her face. Griffin knew she wished for a healthy baby. Griffin climbed into the car as raindrops started falling in giant plops. Her mom carefully set the antique in the backseat.

  Griffin looked at the darkening sky outside the car window. Silently she thought of her wishes …

  I wish to become an amazing bass guitarist.

  Griffin had been studying bass for the last four years with her guitar teacher, Mr. Castanara.

  I wish my new school smells like warm chocolate chip cookies!

  She smiled. Her old school smelled like erasers, floor cleaner, and sharpened number two pencils. Maybe her new school would be different.

  I wish for a baby sister.

  She loved the girl names Janis, D’Arcy, and Michelle, after her favorite female rock stars.

  I wish for Grandma Penshine to get well soon.

  For the last year her grandma had been having unexplainable dizzy spells and horrible headaches.

  I wish the dentist will not have to pull my two back molars for braces.

  I wish no kid in the world has nasty green food caught in his teeth and no one tells him.

  I wish when it stops raining that no soggy worms will fry on the sidewalk the next sunny day.

  Just as she made her last wish, the sky turned a greenish hue, the air hung still and deadly, and heavy moisture weighed upon her skin. Suddenly thunder roared and needles of rain unleashed from the sky.

  “Summer storm!” said her mom, starting the engine.

  Thunder clapped as javelins of lightning flew through the sky and bounded over the rooftops. Rain, wind, and leaves swooshed violently all around the car.

  “This is unbelievable!” said her mom, fiddling with the radio. “It’s like a warm and cold air mass just collided in front of us.”

  “Attention, Dadesville citizens. This is from the National Weather Service.” A series of high-pitched beeps blasted through the speakers. “A tornado warning has been issued for Dadesville. Please take immediate shelter in your basements. A tornado is headed directly toward Dadesville.”

  Tornado sirens posted on poles throughout town suddenly screeched out a steady alarm, which vibrated the car’s windows.

  “We’ve got five minutes to get home!” said her mom, swerving the car around in a fierce crazy eight.

  Griffin shuddered. An ominous emerald sky now cloaked the town. When a tornado circled its prey, the sky turned green. Outside the car window, the wind raged.

  “Hang on, Griff!” said her mom, speeding the car through the street toward their home. Trees swayed like toothpicks, and the roofs of houses cringed from the heavy rain attacking them.

  Finally they made it to their garage. Dr. Penshine took a deep breath and rubbed her big belly. “I’m going to go get our portable radio and a flashlight. Run down to the basement and wait for me. I’ll call Dad on my cell phone and see how far away he is from home.”

  Griffin ran through the door. With her bass guitar swinging on her shoulder, she grabbed Charlemagne from his kitchen terrarium and leapt down a flight of creaky stairs to their basement. The single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling hardly lit up the dank room. Her family never used their basement except to store potatoes, onions, and sports equipment. Griffin shivered and sat on the cold cement floor. She realized she was still clutching in her left hand the small box of polishing cloths Mariah had given her.

  “Dad is stuck at Grandma’s house,” called her mom from the top of the stairs. “He can’t drive home now. He’s going to stay in Grandma’s basement with her. I need to grab some blankets for cover.”

  “Can I help?” called Griffin.

  “No! Stay downstairs! The tornado is moving closer!” yelled her mom.

  The penny that Mariah had given her felt hot in her pocket.

  Does copper attract heat? Griffin wondered. She hoped her best friend, Libby, was safe in her basement with her family. She tried to call to see if she was okay, but her cell phone was dead.

  “Mom, can I run upstairs and use the kitchen phone to call Libby?” Griffin yelled.

  “No! Stay off the phone! With all this lightning, that’s how you get electrocuted!”

  Right when her mom said the word “electrocuted,” thunder crashed so deafeningly that the entire house shook, and the clasp on the box of polishing cloths sprang open. A few soft cotton rags toppled out. Griffin scooped up the cloths, and a burst of light exploded out of the box. A massive glow lit up her face. Concealed beneath the polishing cloths rested ten radiant pennies in a thick black velvet pad. One slot was empty. “WOW!” gasped Griffin.

  After pulling the penny from her pocket, Griffin placed it in the unfilled slot. It fit perfectly. A box of e
leven perfect pennies! Gently she pulled the first penny out of its slot. Attached to it was a narrow faded yellow label stuck across the width of the coin. One word was written on the label with a black pen. In the most precise handwriting, the letters spelled “puppy.”

  She pulled out the next penny. The narrow label attached to it read “no homework.” The next one read “STOP” in all uppercase letters. Another one read in tiny, tiny letters “change the world.” The next penny: “popular.”

  Griffin pulled out the second row of pennies. This one read “a baby.” The next read “a dad,” another one “success.” Another one read “most beautiful.” Griffin held the dullest penny. It read “world peace.”

  “Huh?” said Griffin aloud.

  Are these people’s wishes? she thought. A powerful thunder blast pounded the sky and jolted her house to its foundation.

  Copper light zigzagged on the ceiling from the pennies’ glow. Griffin slipped her fingers around the inside edge of the box and discovered the slotted velvet lining was loose. Peeling back the velvet, she felt the bottom of the box and found an old, yellowed envelope. Across the front, in that same strange handwriting, it read:

  To: Griffin Penshine, the girl who accepted my “lucky penny”

  From: Mariah Weatherby Schmidt

  When I saw you, a memory sprang into my head. Only once before in my life have I seen hair the color red like yours, like a gussied-up copper penny. I am very, very old. Some people might call me ancient. Right, my dear? But the curse must live on. All that work for nothing would be such a waste. You are the one. Inside the envelope is my story.

  A horrible feeling tossed in Griffin’s stomach. Gingerly she opened the envelope and spread the fragile typed letter on the floor.

  Long ago, when I was hardly done being a girl, I accepted my first job as a secretary at an inn. The inn stood at the crossroads of Topeka, Kansas, and a bubbling fountain graced the center courtyard.