As You Wish

by Chelsea Sedoti

  “It seemed such an obvious choice: to wish for long life.”

  “Obvious doesn’t make it right,” the girl says gently.

  Stella wants to reach out and touch her shiny hair. “Such a smart child. I wasn’t. I didn’t think about how everyone I loved would leave me, pass away into the next life while I linger in this one. There’s no one left to visit me now.”

  She tells them how she watched the world change around her. How she’d slowly been forgotten. How she watched her body grow old while her mind stayed as sharp as ever. She tells them everything on her mind while she has the chance, because when will someone next listen to her words?

  They all hug her before they leave, and it fills Stella with a sharp pain, a longing for the life she used to have.

  If only she could be young again.

  • • •

  And on it goes, and on and on.

  They wished for huge houses, but they had nothing to fill them.

  They wished for knowledge, only to realize some information was better left unknown.

  They wished for love and looks and money and success, and they found none of that was enough.

  There were selfish wishes and selfless wishes. Wishes that were trivial and wishes of great importance. Some wishes were spontaneous, and some were well planned. Each wish different from the last, but in the end, they all amount to much of the same.

  Browse through the wish history of Madison, Nevada.

  And consider:

  Is there really such a thing as the perfect wish?

  Chapter 25

  Countdown: 6 Days

  I’ve ended football games with more energy than I have tonight. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, yeah? It’s only talking to people. But it’s exhausting to run around in the hot sun all day. Also, Mr. Wakefield’s given speeches about how stress can wear your body down, and I’ve been a mess of tension and anxiety since the moment I woke up.

  “I never want to speak to another person again.” I groan.

  My dad was nice enough to leave the garage and give Merrill, Norie, and me some privacy to hang out. I collapsed on the couch and downed an entire beer before we’d been here five minutes.

  “I don’t get why people are so willing to talk to us,” Merrill says. “Like, hey, how’s it going? We don’t really know each other, but let’s share all our secrets, ’kay?”

  Norie’s sitting on the couch between me and Merrill, spinning her ring on her finger. “I think people want to be asked how they’re doing. Really asked. Everyone wants to know someone out there actually cares about their answer.”

  “Thanks, philosopher,” Merrill says, and Norie gives him a playful shove.

  I take a long swig from my bottle and run over the events of the day. All the wishes. Wish after wish after wish, and so few people satisfied with the outcome. Maybe dissatisfaction is human nature. Maybe there’s no running from it.

  “Everyone is so miserable,” I mumble. “Everyone in this entire town.”

  “This is a broken place,” Norie agrees.

  “Maybe it’s a broken world.”

  “I hope not.”

  “It’s not the world,” Merrill says, leaning forward. “It’s Madison. It’s everyone walking around like wishing is the greatest thing ever, because they think that’s how they’re supposed to act. Because that’s the way it’s always been. They’re too terrified to be the first to speak out and—”

  I can’t help it—I start laughing. I lean my head against the back of the couch and laugh until I’m gasping for air.

  “OK, Chuckles, settle down. What’s so funny?” Merrill asks.

  “You,” I manage to say.

  I look at Merrill over Norie’s head. He raises his eyebrows at me. “I’m all for laughing at my own expense, Eldo, but you mind elaborating?”

  I take another long drink, let the alcohol course through my body. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and it’s hitting me hard.

  “So what are the plans for prom night?” Norie breaks in.

  “Don’t change the subject,” Merrill tells her. “I want to know what’s so hilarious.”

  “Your little speech,” I say. I should stop myself. I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m already a little buzzed. But the words pour out of my mouth anyway. “Wishing is terrible. Everyone’s a sheep. We should all revolt and take on the man. But when I say I’m not gonna wish, you tell me I’ll regret it. When it’s time for your wish, you don’t even consider turning it down. You want everyone to think you’re such a rebel, but you’re the first to tuck your tail between your legs and step into line like everyone else.”

  Merrill is quiet for a long moment. “You know what, Eldon? I’m not laughing.”

  “Don’t be pissed at me because you don’t like the truth,” I say.

  “I think I’m done for the night,” Merrill replies. He’s calm, but I can tell he’s not happy. He stands and moves to the door. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Come on. Don’t leave,” I call out. But he’s already gone. Whatever. Let him go. It’s not my fault he’s a hypocrite.

  I finish my beer and walk to the fridge to grab another one. When I’m back on the couch, Norie says, “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “I know you’re stressed, but don’t take it out on the people who care about you.”

  “Please don’t lecture me, Norie.” I run my fingers through my hair. I’m feeling a little drunk but not numb. Numbness is the goal. “I can’t deal with that right now.”

  Norie stares at me long enough to make me uncomfortable. It’s like she’s trying to read my mind. I silently tell her to stop.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asks.

  “You’re going to anyway, aren’t you?”

  In response, Norie says, “Why do you hate wishing so much? Really?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tilt my head back and pour more booze down my throat, but it’s not enough. Right now, nothing is enough.

  “Is it because of Ebba?”

  “What’s it have to do with her?”

  “If Fletcher hadn’t been late to make his wish, he wouldn’t have been speeding. And if he wasn’t speeding, he probably would have been able to stop the car in time.”

  I shrug and drink more. And more.

  “And maybe you feel guilty,” Norie says.

  I snort. “Why should I feel guilty?”

  “Maybe you feel guilty that you get to make a wish and Ebba never will.”

  If I were a little drunker, I might tell her the rest of it. How that’s not the only part I feel guilty about. How Ebba asked me to give her a ride that day, and how I said sure but forgot, and how if I’d been there, she wouldn’t have taken her bike to her friend’s house. If not for me, she never would have been in the path of Fletcher’s car.

  “Maybe,” I say softly, and my irritation fades. I’m left with sadness.

  “Are you going to wish for her?” Norie asks.

  I stare down at my beer bottle for a long time. “You’ve seen Fletcher. That’s what happens when you bring someone back.”

  “Fletcher’s situation is different. Besides, I saw him yesterday. I think he’s doing better.”

  “It’s not only that,” I say. “I can’t wish for her health, you know that. The logistics are screwed up. And wishing for money… No doctor can save her, Norie. They’ve told us that a thousand times. I just want this limbo to be over. I want Ebba to be at peace.”

  And it’s back—the wave of sorrow that’s drowning me. The sudden, stabbing pain as I remember that my sister is dying, and my happiness is dying with her. For as long as I live, my grief will hit me like this, sneaking up, jumping out to break my heart again and again, until there’s no hope of putting the pieces back together. />
  I press my fingers to my eyes and try to force back the burning sensation. The last thing I want is to cry in front of Norie.

  “Maybe,” Norie says quietly, “you feel guilty about that too. Maybe you think you should wish for her and feel guilty because you know you won’t.”

  I raise my beer to my mouth, hesitate, put it down. It’s not helping me.

  “Eldon.”

  I look at Norie.

  “It’s OK to feel this way. It’s OK to let Ebba go.”

  The way she’s treating me, so open and honest, makes me feel like she really means it. Like she doesn’t think I’m a complete monster for believing death would be better than the horrible in-between place Ebba’s in now.

  Norie smiles. She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m on your side. OK? Merrill and I are both on your side. You don’t need to go through this alone.”

  I get what Norie’s trying to say. The way she’s talking to me—like we’re the only two people in the world—is the only part of my life that makes sense right now.

  Before I can think about what I’m doing or talk myself out of it, I lean in and kiss her.

  Her lips are warm and soft. I scoot closer, wrap my arm around her back. It isn’t the most amazing kiss ever. The world doesn’t explode. But it’s nice. Like stepping into a warm room on a cold day.

  “Eldon,” Norie says, pushing me away. “Don’t.”

  Or maybe not.

  I pull back. I have no idea what the problem is. Is kissing another item on the long list of what her religion considers taboo?

  “You don’t really want this,” she says.

  “What? I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t.”

  “You have a lot going on right now,” Norie says gently. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  I still don’t get it. Who cares how much I have going on? Kissing Norie has nothing to do with that. “Don’t you like me?” I ask, even though she does. She obviously does.

  “I like you a lot. Just not like that.”

  The shock hits me through my buzz. I study her for evidence that she’s lying. A sinking feeling in my gut tells me she’s not. “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” Norie replies, starting to get annoyed.

  “Then what’s all this been about?” I ask, gesturing between us. I try to remember any other time a kiss has ended like this, and I can’t.

  Norie gapes at me. “It’s been about friendship.”

  I sit back on the couch, trying to straighten out my thoughts. It’s not working. My edginess is back. I can’t process anything that’s happening.

  “Bullshit,” I say. “You want me. Since the hot springs, at least, maybe even before then.”

  I glance over at Norie, who’s staring at me like I disgust her. “Are you kidding me? Do you think every female you know is waiting for the chance to jump into bed with you?”

  “Experience doesn’t lie,” I say.

  Norie shoots to her feet and grabs her bag. “You know, everyone is right about you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I glare up at her through my baffled haze.

  “You’re egotistical. And selfish. And a jerk.”

  I get to my feet, and the room tilts. I try to steady myself. Maybe I’m a little more than buzzed.

  “Who says that?” I demand.

  “Everyone!” Norie says. For as angry as she is, she also seems disappointed. And maybe that’s worse. “I thought it was just a show you put on for your football buddies. Or that maybe Ebba’s accident changed you—taught you some humility. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?” She shakes her head, like she can’t believe I’d managed to fool her. “You’re nothing but an arrogant jock.”

  Before I can respond, she leaves the garage, slamming the door behind her. I don’t know what I would have said anyway.

  I sit down heavily on the couch and put my head in my hands. I don’t bother trying to calm myself. No deep breathing, no counting to ten. I already know it’s not going to help.

  Had I really misread her signals? I think back over all our conversations, try to pinpoint why exactly I assumed she was into me. I don’t come up with any answers.

  In fact, I hadn’t really given it any consideration. I hadn’t thought about kissing her until the split second before I did it. I’d kinda taken it for granted that she liked me and was waiting for me to make a move if I decided I liked her too.

  Norie’s right. I am an asshole.

  I’m an asshole, and everyone knows it. Norie’s speech could’ve come from the same script Juniper used when she broke up with me. I’m an asshole, and I’m selfish, and the only person who never thought so was my sister. Which is the shittiest twist of fate, because in the end, my selfishness killed her.

  My stomach twists, and I’m sure I’m about to puke. I don’t know what’s making me more sick though—the booze or my messed-up life.

  I lie down on the couch, not bothering to roll onto my side like I know I should. Who cares if I pass out and die like a rock star? That’s probably the fate I deserve.

  Chapter 26

  Countdown: 5 Days

  The next morning, I don’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed, because I never made it to bed. I’m still on the couch. It’s about nine hundred degrees in the garage, and my head is pounding.

  Before I even open my eyes, I know it’s going to be a terrible day.

  I get ready for school hastily. Goal: avoid Ma, who’s going to tell me we need to have a chat about my life choices, and Dad, who’s all gung ho about the Clash, as if I give the slightest of shits.

  While I brush the foul, morning-after taste from my mouth, I try to pinpoint what exactly I’m feeling. There’s another emotion riding along with my depression and general pissed-off attitude, but I can’t identify it.

  Then I realize: it’s embarrassment.

  I’m freaking mortified about last night.

  Number one on the list of things that doesn’t help my mood? Archie Kildare passing me in the hall and holding up five fingers.

  “Five days, Wilkes.”

  No kidding, Archie.

  Maybe I’ll wish for the entire fucking town to explode.

  In first period, Fletcher’s mood is about as fantastic as mine, which I take advantage of by asking if he’s gonna treat us to a performance of “Thriller” at prom.

  “Wow, you’re hilarious, Eldon. How long did it take you to think that one up?”

  Penelope tries to talk to me in between third and fourth periods. It’s the first time she’s seemed like herself since she added necromancy to her list of extracurriculars, but I blow her off. Pretend I don’t see the hurt look on her face.

  Though Merrill and I mostly ignore each other, at lunch, he tries to talk to me, asks me to meet him at the skeleton house after practice. I’m only half paying attention because I’m wondering where Norie is and if she’s going to stop eating with us.

  I’m even a jerk to Juniper when she tries to ask me how I’m doing. The thing is, she’s hanging out outside the locker room, and it’s right before practice, so I know she’s waiting for Calvin Boyd.

  “You don’t need to act like you care,” I say.

  “I do care.”

  “You have Cal to care about. Go bother him. You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Juniper snaps. “Trust me, I remember.”

  What I’m saying is, I have a bad attitude before practice even starts.

  • • •

  We’re on the field, and my dad is being a bitch, and I’m messing up so bad, it’s like I’ve never seen a freaking football before.

  “Eldon, you need to take a moment?” Dad asks at one point.

  “No, I don’t need to take a moment,” I say with a sneer.

  Some of
the guys laugh. I can feel my blood pressure shooting up.

  “All right!” my dad calls, turning away from me and switching back into coach mode. “Let’s run a weak side pick to Cal. Line up!”

  As we head to the line, Calvin and I fall into step. “You ready for prom, Eldon?” he asks, smugness dripping from his voice.

  “Go fuck yourself, Cal.”

  We get into position, and my dad blows his whistle to start the play. Here’s how it’s supposed to go down: I step forward and run into my defender—Otto Alvarez—and push him back. That leaves Calvin open to run behind me and to the left for a quick pass.

  We’ve practiced this play a million times. Except, you know, it used to be me on the receiving end of the pass, while Calvin was the muscle. But still, role reversal aside, Calvin and I can run through this as smoothly as if we were ballroom dancing.

  Except I’m not in the mood.

  I don’t feel like watching the ball land in Calvin’s open arms. I might puke if I have to watch the rest of the team pat him on the back after he makes another great play.

  Without really considering what I’m doing, I deviate from the plan. Instead of pushing Otto straight back, I shove him to the left, into Calvin’s path. Calvin slams full-force into him. They get tangled, fall hard onto their asses while the ball whizzes smoothly over their heads.

  My dad blows his whistle.

  Calvin gets to his feet first, breathing heavily.

  “What the hell was that?” he asks, spitting out his mouth guard and pulling off his helmet. “You shoved him right into me!”

  I glance at Otto. He’s still sitting on the turf, none too pleased about being flung into a dude running full speed.

  “My bad,” I say casually, pulling off my own helmet.

  “Your bad? That’s it?” Calvin sputters. “How about a fucking apology?”

  I shrug and start to walk away.

  “What’s your problem with me, Eldon?” Calvin shoots after me.

  I should keep walking.

  I should take a break. Go sit on the sidelines and calm myself. Count to ten.