You Wish

by Mandy Hubbard

  She’s twisting the keys so hard in her hands I think the whole key chain might break. “I don’t know, I’m still standing here waiting for you to start making fun of me for this.”

  And then she looks up at me, and I see that she’s genuine, and a slice of pure guilt and sorrow slips through me and takes with it the last of my anger.

  Because she really does believe that; she really is waiting for me to start laughing at her.

  And it hurts. I don’t know if it’s because my best friend thinks I’d laugh at her or if it’s because two weeks ago, I very well might have.

  Before Ann, before the pony, before everything got turned upside down, I really might have done that. Just laughed at her, told her it was all so stupid.

  But somehow everything has changed. Somehow I’m not that person anymore.

  But Nicole doesn’t know that. I guess there’s a lot I haven’t told her, either.

  She closes her eyes for a second and takes in a deep, calming breath. “It’s not that I’m a different person, Kayla. It’s that I’ve always wanted this. We both did, in junior high. Remember how we almost crashed Janae’s slumber party but lost the nerve? Remember how we used to write down everything they wore in that Look Book we made and then spent the whole weekend at my house replicating their outfits?”

  The memories seem to crash into me all at once, and suddenly I know exactly how she feels, exactly how badly she wants this.

  Because I wanted it once too. But I buried it, forced myself to forget when it seemed too painful to dream of it anymore. I gave up on everything because it just seemed easier that way.

  She shakes her head, and her ponytail bobs. “But it never worked. We were too different, always on the outside looking in. And then somewhere in the last year or two, you decided that you wanted to be everything they weren’t. You didn’t even notice that I still wanted to be everything they were.

  “Before this summer . . . it was impossible. But it’s not anymore. And I don’t want to be the shy one in your shadow forever. I’m pretty now. I can be the person I want to be. And maybe that’s shallow, but I’m tired of sitting next to you and making fun of everything I secretly want.”

  I swallow the boulder in my throat. “Nicole, I . . . God, I never meant to be that kind of friend.”

  She just shrugs one shoulder and keeps twisting her keys. “I know that. But you are. You just assume I’ll always go along with everything you want, and when I brought up things—like sitting with Breanna at lunch—it never even occurred to you that I was serious, that I really wanted to sit over there. You were too busy mocking her IQ.”

  I swallow, hating how right she is about all this. Hating that it means she’s spent days, weeks, months agonizing over it all, and I’ve never even noticed. I stuck myself in this box and then expected Nicole to climb right on in with me. “I know. . . . I know. And you’re right. About everything.”

  She gets quiet then. Maybe she’s surprised that I’m agreeing so easily. Maybe if the last two weeks with Ann and Ken and idiotic toys hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be so open to this. “Because the thing is, I’ve been hanging out with someone new for the last few weeks. Someone . . . from out of town. And she’s opened my eyes to a lot of stuff.”

  “The girl from Janae’s house?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  I take in a deep, slow breath and stare down at the toe of my Converse. It’s old, dirty, the very opposite of Nicole’s perky white sneaker. “And maybe it works the other way, too. Maybe being friends with someone can make you shut yourself off to stuff that you want to be a part of.”

  She doesn’t speak, just shifts her weight back and forth a few times.

  I look up at Nicole and give her what I hope is my most sincere look, because she has to know that I’m speaking the truth. “I never meant to turn you into someone you didn’t want to be. I don’t care what you do. If you want to be a cheerleader, then awesome. You can be a nun or a backup dancer for the Jonas Brothers. I don’t care. I just don’t want you to think you can’t be my friend and the things you want to be.”

  Nicole puts a hand on her skirt-clad hip. The other grips her duffel bag, her knuckles turning pale.

  Then she smiles the sparkly smile of a cheerleader and throws her arms around me. Her duffel bag whips around and knocks into the car. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner about everything. I just didn’t know how to, and then you started acting weird. . . . ”

  I grin. “Yeah. About that. Have I got some stories to tell you. . . . ”

  She smiles at me. “Do you want to go to homecoming with me tomorrow? I bought two tickets, back when I was going to go with Ben. No zombie costumes, of course, but it might be fun.”

  My smile falters. “Oh, um, I think I’m grounded.”

  “Seriously? You never get grounded.”

  I half smile, half cringe. “I know, I told you the last two weeks have been insane.”

  “No kidding.”

  I slide off her car and land in the gravel. “I guess I better get going. We can hang out as soon as I’m off restriction.”

  I take a few steps, my sneakers crunching in the gravel.

  “He’s at the track.”

  I stop, then turn, slowly, to face her. Her words ring in my ears, but I’m afraid to think of what she could mean. “Huh?”

  “Ben. He’s at the track.”

  I just blink and stare at her. “Huh?” I say again.

  She sighs and stares at the rocks. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head and then looks up at the sky. She sets her bag down and moves away from me for a minute. “You like him, right? Like really like him?”

  My mouth feels like I’ve swabbed it out with a thousand cotton balls and then swallowed them all. “Nicole, I would never—”

  “Do you?” she asks, turning back toward me.

  I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t know what I want to say. I can see Nicole wrestling with this. I just nod.

  She takes in a ragged breath and then chews on her lip for a minute, staring at me, her head tipped to the side and her perfect blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. “I bet you guys would be better than we were. Ben and I, we’re totally different.”

  “But how can you be okay with that?”

  She reaches up, plays with that little diamond pendant. I guess if she’s still wearing it, it wasn’t a gift from Ben.

  A car with a broken exhaust drives by the school, seems to make the moment stretch into infinity as it creeps by. “I don’t know. I mean, it was never really about him. I think I knew all along I liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than I liked him. It just took me until now to admit it.”

  I feel myself begin to hope. I feel myself dare to hope. “But—”

  Nicole heaves a dramatic sigh and gives me a stern look, a look that tells me to stop arguing. “Kayla, I wish I could tell you all the ways he’s like you. All his stupid jokes, the way he hates dressing up, that loud track that I hate and you love.”

  I can feel everything around me, acutely. The uneven rocks beneath my sneakers, the slight breeze across my face, the still-healing spot on my chin where the closet door nailed me on gumball day. “But there’s, like, a code, a girl code—”

  “Screw some stupid code. I’m standing here telling you that you deserve him.”

  “You swear?”

  “Go,” she says, looking at me. “If you’re really grounded, then stop spending all your time arguing with me and go see him before your mom notices you’re not home.”

  I race up to her, wrap her up in the biggest hug imaginable, and then spin around and run to my car.

  “You’re welcome!” she hollers after me.

  I smile as I slam the door shut.

  My mom will be home in a half hour. I have just enough time.

  36

  WHILE I DRIVE down the quiet country roads, the radio off as I stare out the windshield, I can’t help but wish that the track was more than two
miles away so I would have time to figure out a game plan.

  But I guess I need to stop wishing for things and just face reality as it comes.

  When I pull the truck in at the track, my head is spinning, and it’s getting progressively harder to breathe.

  Ben and the others seem to be done riding, because they’re sitting in the big grassy field. His truck has been backed up to another, so the tailgates face each other, and there are two guys on each, swinging their legs, sipping on Red Bull, eating Fritos. They’re still wearing their gear: jerseys, riding pants, boots that have been unbuckled to the ankles.

  They watch me as I bump along in the little Ranger, hitting some of the worst ruts in the field because I’m so busy staring at Ben and psyching myself out. By the time I’m climbing out of the driver’s seat, I can barely feel my fingers and toes because I’m so nervous.

  I don’t know what they’re talking about because they go silent as I swing the door shut and stare at Ben. He says something to the other guys and jumps off the tailgate, landing in a molehill as a puff of dust rises around his feet. He leans over and buckles the boots back up and then heads in my direction.

  I give him the best smile I can manage.

  “Wanna take a walk?” he asks, nodding toward the track.

  I don’t answer, I just turn in the direction he indicated, and we amble toward the track.

  “So, what’s up,” he says, after a moment of silence.

  “Oh. Um, so, I, well . . . ”

  I close my eyes and swallow. This is not how it was supposed to come out.

  He stops next to me. I can feel his hand touch my arm. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  I leave my eyes shut for the next part, because the idea of seeing him reject me is just too much. “I like you. And I want to know if you’d like to go out sometime.”

  Nothing but silence follows. I scrunch up my nose and then open one eye to look at him. He looks amused.

  “What are you doing? Taking a nap?”

  I smack him on the shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me!”

  He crosses his arms, gives me a sly smile. “But you make it so easy.”

  I raise my hand as if I’m going to smack him again and he puts his hands up, a classic surrender pose. “Okay, okay. Sheesh.”

  “Okay you’ll stop making fun of me, or okay you’ll go out with me?”

  “Weeeelllllll,” he says, stretching it out until it seems like at least seventeen syllables.

  “Ben!”

  He laughs and leans into me, until he seems so close I think he’s going to kiss me. “Yes. Well, I mean.” He stands up again, seems to have second thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt Nicole. She might think—”

  “I already talked to her.”

  He stands upright. “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s cool.”

  “Just like that?”

  I nod. “I know, it’s a little weird to me too. But she swears it’s fine.”

  His smile turns brighter. “So you ladies sit around and talk about me, huh?”

  I smack him on the arm again. “Ben!”

  He laughs. “Okay, okay. When and where? Because if you say homecoming—”

  I laugh. “No, not homecoming. And not the Philharmonic either. I’m grounded for two weeks. I was thinking after that we could do the whole cheesy dinner-and-a-movie thing. If, that is, you want to.”

  “Do I get to pick the movie?”

  “Jeez, you drive a hard bargain,” I say. “Will it be horror?”

  “No, but it won’t be a rom-com either.”

  “Deal.”

  We’ve reached the edge of the track, and I follow Ben through the gate. It’s quiet today, no expo or event.

  Ben climbs up onto one of the jumps, then turns and extends his hand to me. My nerves jump and tingle and stretch as I put my hand up to his. He grasps my fingertips and helps me up onto the dirt hill. It’s the first time our skin has touched since the ill-fated attempt to ride a motorcycle just a couple short days ago.

  I scramble up the incline, and when I get to the top, we end up standing face to face, closer than usual. I wonder if Ben notices the way my chest seems to be rising and falling more rapidly than normal as I try to catch my breath.

  I’m invading his space, but I don’t want to move. We simply stare, inches away from being nose to nose. All I kept thinking is that, finally, that stupid helmet isn’t in my way.

  And for once, those piercing blue eyes are staring straight into mine, waiting expectantly, and I know, without a doubt, that he’s feeling what I’m feeling.

  This is Ben. The guy I have watched from afar, the guy I have crushed on, the guy I have fallen for. He’s standing inches from me, and there’s nothing between us anymore, nothing stopping us.

  I want to be that girl I was the day I met him, standing on the edge of the cliff.

  I want to jump.

  I have a surge of adrenaline, of courage, of pure craziness as I shakily lift my arms and wrap them around his shoulders. There is no longer any air between us; his jersey is touching my hoodie.

  I blink and my courage falters for one second, and I wonder what on earth I’m doing.

  But I want to do this.

  Because when I finally kiss Ben, I don’t want it to be because of the wish. I don’t want Ben to be under some kind of spell, I don’t want him to be driven to kiss me because he has to. I want it to be real and I want to know what he’ll do, when his head is clear and it’s only me, not the wishes.

  I press my lips into his, my heart hammering out of control, and I tighten my arms around his shoulders. For just a second, I think I have made a mistake, because he seems so surprised he doesn’t move. My chest seems to tighten because I’m holding my breath, waiting for him.

  Waiting for his answer.

  But then his hands wrap around the small of my back, pulling me closer. I tilt my head as his lips part, just the tiniest bit, and the world slips away.

  I’m not sure how long we kiss, but the sounds of wolf whistles are enough to break us apart. I turn to see his friends standing on their tailgates, whooping and hollering at us.

  I step away from him and stare at my feet, heat rising to my cheeks.

  I cannot believe I just did that.

  “Hmm.” He grins. “So maybe I’ll let you pick the movie.”

  37

  ANN IS SNORING again. That’s the first thing I notice.

  The second is the big box sitting on my desk. It’s plain, just brown cardboard, with a small red bow on top. The wishes are never this small, this contained, and I smile in relief as I stare at the cardboard.

  Then again, a lot of things could be inside that box. For all I know, the Keebler elves are hiding out in there.

  I slide out of bed, careful not to pull the blankets with me, and kneel on the floor in front of my desk so I’m eye level with the box.

  I rest my hands on the lid, feeling for any vibrations. Maybe I once wished for a rattlesnake. To annoy my brother, of course.

  But nothing seems to be moving, so I nudge the lid open and peek inside.

  Slippers.

  Ballet slippers. They’re beautiful: pink satin with delicate bows on the side and soft, pliable soles that would make any girl’s feet happy. I know without looking that I won’t find a brand name anywhere, and also that they’ll fit perfectly.

  They were custom made for me.

  I run my fingers over the bow, smiling a little to myself.

  I don’t know if there is any rhyme or reason to these wishes, but it seems like they’ve been arriving in the right order. A week ago I would have seen these and rolled my eyes and shoved them under the bed.

  But today, my fingers are itching to slide them on my feet, to dance across the floor, to leap into the air.

  I sit down on the floor and tuck the lid underneath the box and pull out the slippers. I peel off the big fuzzy socks I’ve been wearing all night and slide my feet into the pink s
lippers.

  They fit like a dream. No pinching, no tightness, just soft, supple perfection.

  I stand in them, pointing one toe and then the other. I look over at Ann for a long moment to be sure she’s still sleeping, and then I pick one toe off the ground and hold my arms out as gracefully as I can manage, and then I spin in a little circle, the sloppiest pirouette the world has never seen.

  But the grin doesn’t leave my face.

  Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could make a go at it.

  Nicole tried out for cheerleading. And she knew that she wasn’t exactly their ideal cheerleader. She still had crazy acne then, still stared at her toes. But it worked out. She was glowing for those moments on the gym floor, her smile from ear to ear as she bounced and cheered and rah-rahed her way to happiness.

  If she can do that, why can’t I sign up for ballet again?

  I spin around again, and then again and again, until I’m so dizzy I can’t stand upright anymore and I end up crashing into the bed and then bouncing and falling onto the floor.

  I burst out laughing, giddy with crazed happiness.

  Because nothing is holding me back anymore.

  Ann rolls over and peers down at me from the bed.

  “What the heck are you doing?” She rubs her eyes and tries to push a few curly strands out of her face.

  “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything? I’m not sure anymore.”

  “Well, at least you look happy doing it,” she says, and then groans and lies back on the bed again.

  And then I smile to myself, because for the first time in a long time, I am.

  Happy.

  38

  WHEN THE DOORBELL RINGS at noon, I swing it open and see Nicole standing on the stoop, a big gray milk crate in her arms. I smile and take it from her, and she follows me up to my room.

  When the door swings open, I see Ann jumping around in big crazy circles, her arms in the air, the middle of her perfectly flat stomach exposed as she dances along to Kiss 106.1, the local pop-radio station. I think the current song thumping out the speakers is Britney’s latest.