Dreamer, Wisher, Liar

by Charise Mericle Harper

  Mom wasn’t too crazy about the trampoline outing, but when I told her it was only a few blocks away, she relaxed. It helped that she thought Sam and I knew each other better than we did. She didn’t need to know the truth—that we’d only met recently. That kind of thing would make her nervous and maybe make her change her mind.

  Claire and I walked to Sam’s house, because Mom didn’t want us riding the bike home in the dark. We passed Lucy’s house on the way. Claire asked if it made me sad, just looking at the house. I nodded. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  Sam’s house was bigger than I was expecting. I don’t know why, but I always expect friends’ houses to be the same as mine. I was hoping that Sam’s older brother didn’t answer the door, because he hadn’t seemed that friendly at the concession stand, but I didn’t have to worry—it was Sam. He didn’t invite us in; instead he grabbed his backpack, and we walked around his house to the backyard. There was something strange about it—like we were being sneaky.

  “This way,” whispered Sam, and we followed him through the bushes to the yard next door.

  As soon as Claire saw the trampoline, she was off and running. Sam was fast too. He caught up with her before she stepped on the ladder. I was glad to see that it had a net; I’d promised Mom that it would.

  “There are a couple of rules.” Sam was standing in front of the ladder, forcing Claire to listen. “You have to take your shoes off, and you can’t scream.”

  It took Claire about two seconds to take off her shoes and promise not to scream, and then she was up and bouncing.

  “Come on.” Sam pulled off his shoes. “Let’s get on too. It’s better with more people.”

  I was about to say no but changed my mind—maybe I’d try it, just for a few minutes. Once I got up there, I was surprised; it was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. The bouncing was fun, but superbouncing was the best. To give someone a superbounce, you bounced right next to them just as they were landing. If you did it right, your bounce sent them up in the air extra high. We had to be careful with Claire, because she was smaller than us. I didn’t want to superbounce her right over the net and into the bushes. Plus when she went superhigh, she screamed, and Sam didn’t want that. That was the hardest part, to be quiet while we were having fun.

  Sam knew a ton of trampoline games, and we pretty much tried them all. When it started to get dark, I brought out the light sticks. Originally I was just going to give them to Claire, but since we were all jumping, we shared them. It was a full moon, so the light sticks didn’t look as cool as I’d thought they would, but no one seemed to mind.

  After the jumping, I brought out the snacks and we sat on the trampoline and had Goldfish crackers and apple juice. It wasn’t anything special, but it was nice to have snacks. I looked over at Sam; he tossed a Goldfish at Claire, and she tried to catch it in her mouth but missed.

  I had a question for him. Something I’d been thinking about since we’d arrived. I picked up a Goldfish and studied it until I was brave enough to ask.

  I popped the Goldfish into my mouth. “Are we allowed to be here?” I glanced at Sam.

  He turned and grinned. His teeth were like mini light sticks in the moonlight—supershiny—and the dark space in between the front two was even more noticeable. I wondered if mine looked the same. I held my lips together. Sam stretched his arms out and lay back on the trampoline. He was quiet, but I didn’t need the words—I had my answer. We were trespassing. I wondered who the neighbors were. I almost asked, but it didn’t matter. I grabbed a handful of Goldfish. Why ruin it? It was more fun this way. The secret was kind of exciting, plus we weren’t hurting anything. Claire was lying down too, so I joined them and stretched myself out. I stared up into the sky. If you looked long enough, you could see new stars—tiny rewards for your patience. I sighed; the saltiness of the Goldfish, the coolness of the air, the moon, the stars—it was all perfect.

  Sam had lied to me, or at least tricked me. I should have been mad, but I wasn’t. The truth would have kept me away, and that would have been sad. I would have missed this. And right now, with the universe open in front of me, I was happy.

  “Look,” said Claire. “It’s a whole moon.” She pointed.

  I smiled. “It’s called a full moon.”

  “Strange things happen on full moons,” said Sam.

  I shot him a glance. I didn’t like spooky stories, plus I didn’t want Claire to get scared.

  Claire sat up. “Like what? Like secret things?”

  “Sure,” said Sam. “Or secrets. Do you have one?”

  Claire was quiet for a minute. It made me nervous. I didn’t want her to talk about her mom. That was probably more than any of us could handle. I touched her arm. “The secret doesn’t have to be about you.” I smiled, hoping she understood.

  “Oh, okay.” She smiled back at me, leaned over toward Sam, and whispered, “My secret is that Ash has face blindness.”

  “Wait! NO!” It was too late. Now it was there—out in the open—impossible to ignore.

  Sam sat up. “What’s face blindness?”

  He was studying me. Probably looking for it, this thing he’d missed, this thing that was there but he couldn’t see. I hated this part, the explaining it. It was embarrassing and dumb. Face blindness—it sounded like something I was making up. At least it had a medical name—prosopagnosia. I liked using that better; it sounded more tragic and impressive.

  Claire jumped in and gave Sam a quick explanation. “She can’t recognize faces, but if you’re staying at her house, she can, and she’ll probably know you.”

  It wasn’t bad if you already knew what face blindness was, but for Sam it was totally not helpful. He was still confused.

  He looked over at me. “So it’s a real thing?”

  I nodded, and even though I didn’t want to, I gave him the whole explanation. When I was done talking, he shook his head. That wasn’t unusual; my problem was hard to believe.

  “Is that why you ignored Megan Webber yesterday?” He asked.

  Now I was confused.

  “At the pool, in the line. She was standing behind you. She said you totally ignored her.”

  I thought back to the pool and dropped my head in my hands. Of course, that’s who it was. The girl behind me with the wet hair was Megan. Now I felt bad. Megan was always nice and friendly; well, that was finished. She’d probably never talk to me again.

  “I told her you were stressed out. I think she bought it.” Sam grabbed a few Goldfish, threw them up, and caught them in his mouth. “You seemed pretty stressed.”

  I nodded. Why was he being so nice?

  “That stinks!” Sam shook his head again. “Instead of a superpower, you have an invisible nonpower.”

  He thought for a minute, smiled, and said, “I bet you love Halloween.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Sam pointed at me. “It’s the one day where everyone is exactly like you. Nobody knows who anybody is.”

  He was right. I’d never thought of that before.

  Claire was excited to have a new topic. “Last year I was an evil cat. But I don’t know what I’m going to be this year.” She looked at us and shrugged.

  Sam and I both said it, at the exact same time, like we’d practiced, but of course we hadn’t.

  “Goldfish!”

  Sam walked us home. I was surprised about that but didn’t say no when he offered. He wasn’t any different from before—even though now he knew my secret.

  When we got to my house, he turned and said, “See you tomorrow.”

  It took me a second to remember that tomorrow was craft day again. A whole week had gone by already—that was hard to believe.

  Claire wanted to wave at Sam until she couldn’t see him anymore, so I waited with her, standing on the sidewalk, until he turned the corner.

  She looked up at me. “I like full moons. They’re fun.”

  I nodded. Claire reached up and held my hand. It was the first t
ime she’d ever done that, and she held it tight until we were all the way into the house. It was nice, but nice really wasn’t the right word to describe it. It was more important than just nice; it was a gift.

  That night, after Claire went to bed, I asked Mom about Roman Helvetica. She said the name sounded familiar, but she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Claire’s mom.

  I shook my head. “Do you think she made him up? Why would she do that?”

  Mom thought for a minute. “Maybe it’s easier for her if she has a story.”

  Mom said I could come to her room to talk more, but I was too tired to even try. It must have been the bouncing on the trampoline. It was probably more exercise than I thought it was.

  I didn’t want to think about Claire’s mom. But now she was there, floating around in my brain. Who does that? Just leaves their family. No wonder Claire had a story. I pulled out my book, glad to be distracted, but after a few minutes of reading I had a feeling I was just trading one storyteller for another. I hadn’t noticed it before, but Claire was a little bit like Percy.

  chapter twenty-seven

  Like

  When I came down for breakfast, Mom was waiting for me.

  “Here.” She took my hand and pressed something into it. It was an old-fashioned key on a pretty silver chain.

  I was surprised. “What’s this for?”

  “It’s symbolic,” she said. “Because your week is up for the basement. I don’t understand why you want to go down there, but if it’s important to you, I’m . . .” She paused for a minute and then added, “Fine with it.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Suddenly Mom seemed uncomfortable, like she was worried that she was making too big a deal out of this. She pointed to the necklace. “You don’t have to wear it, but you can if you want.”

  I untangled the chain and pulled it over my head. It was long; the end of the key landed just above my belly button. I straightened up and looked down. I liked it. Mom started again.

  “It’s mostly a thank-you, for this week. For everything you’ve done with Claire. She’s having a great time. Younger girls really look up to older girls. When I was young I . . .”

  I shifted my weight and looked down. Mom stopped talking.

  I looked up and smiled. “I like it. It’s nice.”

  She looked relieved. “I’m taking Claire out later. So you’ll have some free time, on your own, to do . . .”

  I nodded. I knew exactly what I was going to do. Mom waited a few seconds to see if I had anything to say, but when I was quiet, she continued.

  “We’ll be back for lunch, because you have the craft thing this afternoon.”

  I hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, I was kind of looking forward to it. Mom would have been surprised about that. We stood there for a few seconds, kind of awkwardly, and then I stepped forward and gave her a hug. Suddenly two more arms were around us.

  “GROUP HUG!” shouted Claire.

  It was exactly what we needed—seven-year-old joy.

  Mom and Claire left about two hours later. I worried all morning that something would happen to stop them from going—a stomachache, a flat tire, a freak windstorm—but nothing did. I tried to act calm and normal, but I couldn’t wait for them to leave. The second the car pulled out of the driveway, I ran up to my room, pulled one of the Anderson’s wishes off the wish map, and grabbed the wish jar. It had been a while since I’d held it—my hands trembled. I tried not to think of the negatives, but they followed me down to the basement. What if the jar was broken? What if the wishes didn’t work? What if asking Sam about Anderson’s had ruined everything?

  I had to find out. I couldn’t wait. I sat on the chair, reached into the jar, and pulled out a wish. There was no swirling of balls, no meditating on the choice, and no closing of eyes. I held my breath and unfurled the paper, and as each word appeared, I read it out loud.

  I Wish Summer Wasn’t So Boring

  Suddenly I was gone, and instead of being in the basement, I was with Shue, in her room. She was sitting on her bed, looking down at her hands. But in this first minute of being there, I didn’t care about her. It was all about me.

  “PURPLE PLATYPUS!” I shouted and jumped in the air. It was a celebration. The wish jar had worked!

  If I was ecstatic, Shue was the exact opposite. She looked sad and droopy. I missed it at first, but her lips were moving. She was singing. It started out quietly, but as the seconds ticked by, she got louder and louder. I didn’t recognize the song. The lyrics were unusual—a mix-up of sad, happy, and silly. What kind of song talks about eating muffins? And then I got it—she was making it up. The more she sang, the more animated she became. She wasn’t sitting on the side of the bed anymore—now she was dancing around the room.

  She swung her arms and leaped into the air, but she misjudged the landing part and crashed into her dresser. I laughed—she was the opposite of graceful. But she didn’t care; she continued without stopping. She pulled a dress from her closet. Now she was singing about love, and the dress was her prince. He spun above her head, wiped out a row of stuffed animals from the top of the desk, and knocked over the chair, and landed in a heap on the floor. The romance was over. Shue bounced on the bed, still singing, but now I couldn’t understand the words. It was hard to believe that this was the same Shue as before. She was so crazy and funny. Finally she collapsed on the bed, lay still, and stared up at the ceiling. What was she thinking? I walked forward, but it was over. I was fading away.

  I was back in my chair. I rubbed the chair’s arms. I liked this chair. What a strange time machine. I smiled; that had been a good wish, one of the best, but where was Ash? Shue’s song had been about everything—her parents, her boring summer, her room, her pretend prince, and even what she’d had for breakfast—but there’d been nothing about Ash. Why hadn’t she mentioned her? I tried to remember if I’d seen Ash’s drawing taped to the mirror. I hadn’t. The mirror had been clean. I smiled—I was a good detective.

  Now I wanted to try something new. It was risky, but I needed to know. Could a wish work twice? I wanted to go back to Anderson’s. See if I’d missed anything—pay more attention. I pulled the used wish out of my pocket and rolled it into a ball. It was my favorite Anderson’s wish. I placed it in the jar, careful to keep my eye on it, and then pulled it back out. I opened it and read the words.

  I Wish Anderson’s Was Always Good

  I was ready to go, but nothing happened. I was still in my chair. It hadn’t worked. I panicked and quickly picked out a new wish, hoping I hadn’t broken anything. As soon as I read the words, I was gone.

  I Never Want School to Start

  When I arrived in Ashley’s bedroom, I was smiling. Shue and Ashley were sitting on Ashley’s bed; they were talking. I tuned them out to think of a test word. It was getting harder to think of new colors—I’d have to research that, so I’d be ready for next time. It took me a few seconds, but finally I had one.

  “Gold monkey.” I said it and walked toward the girls. They were still talking.

  “Once school starts, things will be different,” said Ashley. She was smoothing out a little piece of paper against her leg.

  Shue fiddled with her shoelaces. “No it won’t.” She tied a double knot.

  Ashley shook her head. “I’ll be in high school, and you’ll still be in middle school.”

  I could tell that Ashley thought this was enough of an explanation, but Shue was still confused. Ashley glanced around the room like she was looking for help, but there was no one else—just them and me, and I didn’t count.

  Ashley folded up the paper. “I’ll be busy with school. Plus our schools are in different places.”

  Shue thought for a moment and then brightened. “But you live only two houses away, so I’ll still see you all the time.”

  “Maybe, but it won’t be the same. You’ll be with your middle school friends, and I’ll have friends too.”

  Shue wasn’t g
iving up. “But it’s only a year. Next year I’ll be in high school too. We can walk to school together.”

  “Okay.” Ashley sighed. I could tell she wasn’t agreeing with Shue, but she was giving up.

  Shue held up the little charm on the end of her necklace and looked at Ashley. “Friends forever.”

  I hadn’t noticed it before, but both girls were wearing the exact same necklace—a silver half circle on a silver chain.

  Ashley tapped her half circle against Shue’s charm. “Friends.” She frowned and picked something up off the bed. It was the yellow duck. She held it up and made a quacking sound. “I found it really fast this time.”

  I looked over at her closet. There was a pile of clothes on the floor, and the shelf where I’d seen Shue hide the duck was empty. Shue nodded. She seemed sad. Was she upset about the duck? And then I realized it wasn’t the duck—it was the promise. Ashley hadn’t said “forever.” A moment later I was gone. This time it wasn’t a slow fade back to reality; it was more like a lightning strike—fast, electric, and slightly painful. I hated the painful comebacks, but now I had a feeling about them. It wasn’t something I wanted to test, but if I kept reading wishes, I’d find out. I hoped I was wrong, because I knew they were in there—the bad wishes, the ones where Ashley and Shue were fighting—and so far those were the ones that hurt.

  I gripped the arms of the chair and shuddered. Suddenly I heard noises upstairs. Mom and Claire were home. Maybe that’s why I’d come back so fast. I put the used wishes in my pocket and hid the jar. As an afterthought I grabbed a notebook off the bench and carried it upstairs with me. It was blank and missing a page, but that didn’t matter—it was a perfect prop.