The Wish Stealers

by Trivas, Tracy

  The first time it happened, it was an accident. On a hot Kansas day I heard a plunk-splash in the water. I pushed away the white lace curtain to see a little boy and his mom standing before the fountain. The boy said, “I wish for a boat.” From high up in my office I saw exactly where his penny landed. That’s how it began.

  At night, after working late, I would dip my hand into the fountain, scoop up the wet pennies, and toss people’s wishes around in my palm. A person’s penny could be a wish for a pony, but it bought me a pretty silk ribbon instead. For years I swept up the change, buying myself sweets, eating people’s wishes. I loved to twist their dreams in my hair with the fancy ribbons I bought for myself. I heard a lot of wishes in those years, as people stood alone before the fountain, not thinking.

  I could hear the plunks and pings of the coins diving through the water. And the things they wished for! Silly things, sad things, important things.

  Sometimes people were really desperate and would throw dimes into the fountain. Dimes could buy you something really nice back then. Dimes didn’t plunk in the water like a penny. A dime was like a little ping. Ping. Ping. Like a silver raindrop. It was a beautiful sound. I’d wait a few minutes till the people were inside fiddling with their bags and I’d rush out, pretend I was cooling my fingers, trailing them in the water. But when I pulled my hand out, a wish was captured in my palm.

  I am 92 years old. After all these years, these eleven pennies never lost their glow. Sometimes they even felt hot in my hand. They are all Indian Head pennies, much more potent and valuable than regular pennies. I saw exactly where they landed, heard the secret wishes aloud. I labeled them so I wouldn’t forget. I never felt a drop of guilt either. Like my father told me when I was a young girl, I wasn’t going to amount to much so I should just stop dreaming and wishing and filling my head with silly thoughts.

  You are the new guardian of the eleven stolen wishes. You are the new Wish Stealer.

  There are three rules to wish stealing:

  1) A Wish Stealer’s good wishes will not come true.

  2) A Wish Stealer’s evil wishes will come true.

  3) If a Wish Stealer tells anyone about the curse, he or she will be cursed for life, and the person he or she tells will never have any of his or her wishes come true.

  P.S. Once you’ve accepted the wishes, they are yours. It is done. You can’t dump them into the garbage, or toss the whole box into a fountain and forget about them.

  In that same strange handwriting as on the envelope, she had written in pen at the bottom:

  P.P.S. You could trick someone into accepting the box, but you don’t seem like that kind of girl—yet. The penny I gave you at the shop flew like a leaping ballerina vaulting into the water. That person didn’t say her wish out loud, but her penny was as dazzling as her long red hair.

  Griffin stood in shock. A Wish Stealer. She pulled a penny from its slot. “STOP” was written on its label. Stop what? she wondered. Her head pounded. Mariah Weatherby Schmidt had tricked her! Furiously she stuffed the box of pennies into the side pocket of her guitar case, and clenched Mariah’s letter in her hands.

  Griffin’s mom clunked into the basement. “The tornado is getting closer. Are you okay?”

  “I …,” said Griffin, staring at her mom and her big belly.

  “Griff, what’s in your hand?”

  Mariah’s letter flopped like a limp fish in her palm. “Uhh, a letter I was writing to …” She gulped. “Grandma.” Just as she said the word “grandma,” a bolt of lightning struck the house.

  Penny for your thoughts,

  nickel for your dreams.

  Chapter

  3

  The next morning rain dribbled outside the Penshines’ kitchen. Dr. Penshine set three hot blueberry pancakes on Griffin’s plate and three on Griffin’s dad’s plate. “Pancakes to celebrate the first day of school,” said Dr. Penshine.

  “You can say that again!” said Griffin’s dad, reading the morning paper before heading to Eastern Kansas University, where he taught law. “It says here that Dadesville hasn’t experienced such erratic weather in the last hundred years. One minute it’s a summer day; the next minute a tornado nearly destroys the town.”

  “I can’t believe our house was struck by lightning! Thank goodness you weren’t near water or on the phone, Griff!” said Dr. Penshine.

  Griffin chewed the mountain of pancakes and nodded with her mouth full. Last night, when the announcer on the portable radio had said the tornado had diverted its course and she was allowed upstairs, she hid the box of pennies under her bed. Would none of her good wishes come true? Could she really ruin other people’s wishes if she told them about the pennies? she wondered. She knew her dad wished for wars to end and to get tenure. Griffin shook her head. She believed in wishes, but not in Wish Stealers. Mariah had to be totally bonkers, a senile old lady, ancient, like her mom had said. Griffin refused to believe in curses. There was no way a box of Indian Head pennies could hurt her.

  She decided to just enjoy her mom’s blueberry pancakes.

  “Griff, I forgot to tell you. When you were upstairs getting dressed, the dentist called. It turns out that she is going to have to pull your back molars for braces. There’s an opening next week.”

  The pancakes morphed into a lumpy ball in her throat. Wasn’t that one of her wishes? I wish the dentist will not have to pull my two back molars for braces.

  If you are a Wish Stealer, none of your good wishes will come true blasted through her head.

  Probably just a coincidence, Griffin reassured herself, but she lost her appetite anyway.

  Coincidence … or …

  COIN-incidence?

  Chapter

  4

  Griffin slid into the car. Charlemagne had acted strangely all morning, afraid to come out of his shell. Griffin thought it had to be the weather. She refused to think about Mariah or the curse. After all, it was the first day of school. She and her best friend, Libby, had planned their outfits a week before and had promised to wear their gold heart best-friends-forever necklaces today.

  She wore her new canvas Converse sneakers that she’d spent all summer decorating with permanent colored pens. One side of each sneaker was blue, and the other side sported purple paisleys. “Go Green” was written on the white rubber rim. A peace sign swirled on the tops. She’d even sat on her bedroom floor coloring her shoelaces in tiny multicolored stripes. That had left little marks like an outlined centipede on her hardwood floor that she thought looked supercool (a feeling her mom didn’t share).

  Dr. Penshine parked the car in front of Griffin’s new school and read, “George Washington LeGrange Middle School. You’re growing up so fast, Griff.” Her mom’s eyes moistened.

  “I love you, Mom,” said Griffin, hugging her. Lately her mom cried over Hallmark card commercials, a dead goldfish, and every time someone mentioned that the planet Pluto had gotten demoted.

  “Pregnancy hormones,” explained Griffin’s dad each week. He also stocked the freezer with Häagen-Dazs mint chip and butter pecan ice cream for Dr. Penshine’s cravings, which made Griffin love it even more that her mom was pregnant.

  “Have a great day!” called her mom.

  Griffin dashed toward the school lobby, where she planned to meet Libby. Giddy in her raincoat, with her hood flying off, she splashed through the puddles, forgetting all about stolen wishes. Looking up at the rain, she hoped each and every drop would either turn to chocolate or grant a year of good luck for the person it fell on.

  Griffin did not notice Mariah across the street, drenched in her long black raincoat, staring at her like a waiting crow. An evil smile curled on Mariah’s cracked lips. Through the cold, misty rain Mariah crept closer to the school.

  Beware the person with

  the Buddha smile and snake’s heart.

  —Chinese proverb

  Chapter

  5

  Mariah pounced across the flooding street. Her shoes slap
ped over the sidewalk, and her cold palm pushed open the school doors. Inside the school lobby she smoothed her hair and opened her black bag. After pulling out a delicate flowered scarf, she tied it over her hair, removed her black coat, and pinned a bright red flower, a lily, the same color as Griffin’s hair, onto her dress. Mariah chanted under her breath, “Stars, hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.” She cackled in the hallway and slithered toward the front office.

  Locker doors slammed, and the buzz of students swarmed through the polished halls. So many kids jammed the corridors that it was hard to walk and not get smacked by a giant backpack or an oncoming slew of kids. Griffin and Libby tried to push their way toward room 13, first period English class. Middle school was nothing like fifth grade, where students stayed in one classroom.

  “Come on, Libbs,” said Griffin.

  “I’m trying!” said Libby when some towering eighth graders cut in front of her.

  Libby had a cute upturned nose, warm brown eyes, and shoulder-length blond curls that bobbed as she walked. Today she wore a superbright pink, yellow, and green striped sweater that looked like it spent its free time keeping ships from crashing into the shore.

  “Room 13,” said Griffin, reading her schedule and leading Libby toward the opposite side of the school building. Libby had no sense of direction, loved garlic mashed potatoes, and dreamed of being a famous artist like Frida Kahlo one day. She loved to tape pictures from magazines all over her bedroom wall and make origami out of silver bubble gum wrappers. Most of all she loved hanging around Griffin’s grandma, who was a painter and gave them lessons on the weekends when she felt well enough.

  Griffin, on the other hand, wanted to be a rocket scientist or a rock star. She was also very proud of her sneakers. They entered the classroom and grabbed two desks toward the front. Both of their BFF heart necklaces glowed from the raindrops that had fallen on them.

  Just as Griffin sat in the seat, “Griffin Penshine, Griffin Penshine, please come downstairs to the front office” blasted over the loudspeaker.

  “Huh?” said Griffin. “That’s weird. Did I forget something? Be right back. Can you save my seat?” For a moment a strange feeling crept over Griffin. Could this have anything to do with Mariah? she thought. But she shook her head and told herself she was being silly.

  “Sure,” said Libby.

  Griffin powered through the emptying halls to the front office.

  The strong scent of lilies wafted through the stairwell. Like cloying perfume or a dying bouquet in a funeral home, the smell shot up Griffin’s nose and gave her a headache. Griffin walked into the office.

  Sitting behind the administrator’s desk stacked with unopened mail, a jolly woman with a ruddy face and a booming voice said, “You must be Griffin Penshine.”

  “Yes,” said Griffin.

  “I’m Mrs. Davis, and you have the nicest, sweetest grandma in the whole world,” she said.

  “How do you know?” Griffin asked.

  “She just came in from that nasty rain to give you something she forgot—a first-day-of-school gift! Said she’d been waiting years to give it to you. Isn’t that so sweet?” said Mrs. Davis, leaning her weight over her desk and handing a small box to Griffin.

  Griffin beamed. Even in this terrible weather, with her grandma not feeling well, she’d still taken the time to drive to school. She adored her grandma Penshine. Dropping off a special gift for her was just like something her grandmother would do. While Griffin’s mom used to write notes with a nontoxic black pen on a banana like I’m bananas over you! and stick it in her lunch bag, her grandma gave magical gifts like a hand-knit bag with lucky stones and a four leaf clover inside. (Charlemagne ate the clover by accident, but Grandma Penshine said not to worry, it just made Charlemagne a very lucky turtle.) Griffin opened the box. A tiny golden key lay inside with a note: Good luck. From Mariah.

  All the color drained from Griffin’s face.

  Good luck or bad luck can flip on a dime … or a penny.

  Chapter

  6

  Dashing back to first period English class, Griffin couldn’t stop sneezing. The smell of dying lilies barreled through the hall. Mariah pretended to be my grandma! The thought enraged her. What is this key for? She sneezed five more times.

  Griffin clenched the key in her hand and darted into a bathroom. She stuffed her pocket with toilet paper for her runny nose. Finally she made it back to room 13. She quietly opened the door and scanned the sea of heads for Libby’s blond hair and striped sweater. But the seat next to Libby, the one she’d asked her to save, was taken. A beautiful girl with long brown hair as silky as mink, and with the high preppie collar of her shirt turned up, sat there. Griffin walked to the one empty desk in the back corner of the classroom.

  That smell. She couldn’t get that sickly sweet smell out of her nose. “Haaaaachuuuuuuu! Haaaachuuu! Haaa-chuuuuuuu!” Griffin sneezed uncontrollably.

  “Ewww,” said a boy in front of her.

  “Excuse me,” said Griffin.

  “Gesundheit!” said the teacher.

  Libby turned around and mouthed I’m sorry and tipped her head toward the girl who’d taken Griffin’s seat.

  Rain hit the classroom windows, and the sky darkened.

  “Whoa! Look at the sky!” a boy exclaimed.

  “Creepy!” said a girl.

  “‘By the clock ’tis day / And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp,’” quoted Mrs. Gideon, the English teacher. She had short silver-gray hair and wore a long skirt and a necklace made from chunky, colorfully glazed pottery pieces. “What perfect weather to begin our study of Shakespeare’s condensed Macbeth!” Mrs. Gideon clapped her hands together. “Some people think this play is a bit advanced for sixth graders, but I say nonsense. It’s about desires, greedy rulers, and betrayal—themes found in most of your computer games.”

  On the board Mrs. Gideon wrote, Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds, and drew a witch’s hat next to the sentence. “Everyone has three minutes to write down on a piece of paper what they think this quote means.”

  Is this why the school smells so bad? Griffin wondered. Was it part of the lesson? Griffin stared at her paper. Suddenly her hand felt possessed and she scrawled out a sentence.

  “Okay, class. Time’s up! Pass up your papers so I can read some aloud,” said Mrs. Gideon. She flipped through some of the answers and stopped on one paper. “Who is David Hunt?” called the teacher.

  David raised his hand.

  “You wrote ‘This quote means weeds really stink, but beautiful flowers stink worse,’” read Mrs. Gideon. “Interesting.” She rustled through more papers. “Who is Griffin Penshine?”

  Griffin raised her hand.

  Mrs. Gideon smiled and read Griffin’s paper, “‘This quote is really about people. Some bad people are like weeds, ugly on the inside and outside. But what’s worse is to be a good person who turns bad, does cruel things, and rots on the inside.’”

  “Very good. Very good, Griffin,” said Mrs. Gideon. “Maybe you’ll be my new English star this year.”

  Griffin blushed. Libby turned around and smiled at her. The gorgeous girl next to Libby swiveled her head at Griffin. She narrowed her swampy green eyes. Griffin stared back. She had never seen eyes like that, green cold slits like a reptile’s.

  Just then the intercom blasted through the school. “Attention, students. This is your school principal, Dr. Yeldah. Please walk to the auditorium with your class for our welcome assembly.”

  All the kids packed up their bags. Griffin slid the tiny gold key in a side pocket of her backpack. What awful thing does it open? she thought, shivering.

  Libby ran up to her. “Griff, I’m sorry. I told that girl I was saving that seat for you, but she just ignored me and sat there with her two friends.”

  “It’s okay, Libby. It’s not your fault. Maybe she got confused,” she said.

  “Why did you get called downstairs?” asked Libby.


  Anger surged through Griffin. She couldn’t believe Mariah had come to her new school!

  “Griff?” said Libby.

  “Uhh, my grandma”—Griffin gulped—“gave me a present.”

  “Students, stay in your group, line up on the far left of the auditorium, and file into the first three rows of seats,” said Mrs. Gideon.

  Libby and Griffin scanned the auditorium for some of their friends from their old school and looked at all the new kids from different schools. Already they’d heard whispers about the cutest boy in sixth grade, Garrett Forester, whom they spotted on the opposite side of the auditorium.

  While Griffin and Libby stood waiting to enter the row of seats, the girl who’d stolen Griffin’s seat talked with her two friends. On her left stood a tall girl with long flat-ironed blond hair. She wore a necklace with the name Sasha sparkling in silver letters. On her right a girl with shoulder-length brown hair wore a pink headband with the name Martha embroidered on it in green. She wore a beige plaid designer skirt. Martha was saying, “Samantha, I just know you’re going to win the Fresh Face! Prettiest New Face Contest. The whole school has already seen you model on your dad’s infomercials. Everybody knows he’s the best dermatologist with the best skin products in Kansas.”

  Samantha smiled, glad that Martha was talking so loudly. She turned around and looked Griffin and Libby up and down. “What school are you guys from?” she demanded.

  “We went to Dadesville Elementary,” said Libby.

  “We went to Westminster Private School,” said Samantha. Sasha and Martha did not move or smile.