“And Miranda. I didn’t mean to—”
“You meant to.”
Grace exhaled sharply. Her stomach felt tight. Her eyes felt warm.
Liss was right. She had meant to.
Everything Liss was saying was right.
Everything except one.
“My wishes don’t come true,” she said. “No more than yours or anybody else’s.”
“Prove it.” Liss said.
“You can’t prove a neg—”
“Wish for something,” Liss said, her balled fists on her hips. “Right now. Something that would come true only if you wish for it.”
She could wish for Liss to leave her alone.
But what if Liss then left her alone? That was way too easy to misinterpret.
No. She had to wish for something absurd. Something impossible. Something that could never, ever happen.
Something that couldn’t possibly hurt anyone.
Grace shuddered. Hurt anyone? Of course she couldn’t hurt anyone. Not with a stupid wish.
Could she?
Of course not.
Absurd.
She turned and looked out over the faculty parking lot, past where Coach Sanders found Miss Fisher writhing in pain.
A grass strip separated the parking lot from M street. A small maple tree grew in the strip, its branches gray and thin and bare. When the school year started back in August, the tree was covered with dark red leaves. It would have been beautiful except for a huge chunk on the side that faced the parking lot. There were no leaves there, no branches there. It was as if someone had taken a chainsaw to the tree.
Grace had felt sorry for the tree even then, when it was in full foliage. She had dubbed it “the weeping maple.”
Now, early December, the tree looked even more miserable and forlorn.
And that gave Grace the absurd wish she was searching for.
“I wish there was a nice, healthy, thick, branch in that hole in the weeping maple.” She pointed to make sure Liss knew exactly which tree.
Liss and her toadies looked where Grace pointed.
For a minute, nobody said anything.
Then Liss turned back, slowly, her cheeks red, her eyes blazing with fury. “What is wrong with you, girl? You can wish for anything you want. Anything in the world. And you wish for a tree branch?”
Grace stepped back, too stunned by Liss’s anger to think of anything to say.
Miranda said, “You only get three wishes, you know. That’s how it always works.”
These girls were taking this way too seriously.
“That’s how it never works. In the real world, I only get zero wishes.”
Miranda squinted. “So you didn’t mean it?”
That was an awfully smart question for such a—
Liss said, “Did you mean it?”
No, she hadn’t meant it. Not really. Mostly she just said it to shut Liss up.
Then again, she hadn’t really meant her wish yesterday, either. She hadn’t really meant to give Miss Fisher kidney stones.
Had she?
God. Now she was acting as if she had caused the kidney stones.
“Make a better wish,” Liss said. “And mean it this time.”
Grace looked past Liss at the maple tree.
Liss was right. It really was a lame wish.
But it was safe.
A nice safe wish.
And besides, the hole in the side of the tree really did look miserable. If a branch grew there, it really would look lovely.
A wish that couldn’t hurt anyone.
“I wish there was a nice, healthy, thick branch in that hole in the weeping maple. Really and truly.”
And she meant it.
Liss shook her head. “What a total waste.”
Grace shrugged.
Miranda said, “How long do we have to wait?”
Grace hadn’t thought of that. Another smart question. Damn. She was almost starting to like this girl.
Almost.
Liss said, “Three hours. That’s now long Miss Fisher’s kidney stones took. We’ll meet back here on the steps at lunch. Agreed?”
Before Grace could object, Liss turned and headed for the door.
Her girls followed.
The bell for first period rang.
Grace looked out over the parking lot at the weeping maple. It really would be nice if her wish came true.
But of course it wouldn’t.
Wishes didn’t come true.
So why did she feel so guilty about Miss Fisher?
When the bell rang at the end of History, Grace swept up her books and ran out of the room and down the hallway.
Halfway across the lobby, she stopped short.
Liss and the girls were already outside on the steps, their backs to the front door.
Grace stepped forward.
Beyond Liss, beyond the pink granite steps, beyond the parking lot, a thousand dark red maple leaves fluttered in the breeze.
Grace froze in the doorway.
Trees did not sprout healthy, new branches thick with new leaves. Not in December. Not any time.
She rubbed her eyes with balled fists, then blinked.
The leaves were still there.
The rest of the weeping maple was as barren as it had been three hours earlier. But the empty patch was now filled with fluttering red leaves.
It was absurd. Impossible.
Liss turned, saw Grace, and smiled. “Get over here, girl.”
No way. Not a chance. Grace had no intention of getting over there. Not until she could make sense of what she was seeing.
Someone was playing a prank on her.
Yes. A prank. Someone had found a healthy branch somewhere. A red maple branch. In December. And nailed it to the weeping maple.
That was the only explanation.
Probably Liss had put someone up to it. Liss and Miranda and the others.
Miranda turned, her hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes were filled with horror.
The poor girl was terrified.
When she saw Grace, Miranda took a step back.
Not just terrified.
Terrified of Grace.
This was not the look of someone playing a prank.
Suddenly Grace could not breathe.
Her wish had come true.
And that meant...
It meant that her earlier wish had come true. Her wish about—
“Excuse me.” A voice behind Grace. A man’s voice. A deep, rich, melodious voice.
Grace turned and looked up. Up into Ross Alexander’s beautiful, deep brown eyes.
He smiled.
“Uh,” she said.
“I was hoping to go outside.”
“Yuh,” she said.
“Like,” He waggled a long, delicious finger over her head. “Through the door you’re standing in.”
“Okay,” she said.
Ross Alexander laid one strong, warm hand on Grace’s arm and pushed ever so gently.
Grace leaned. One foot hit the other and she stumbled.
Ross caught her in his long, warm arms.
Oh, God.
He smelled clean and good, like a freshly washed blanket.
Grace wanted to melt. She wanted to die. Melting in Ross Alexander’s arms would be a good way to die.
She giggled.
Ross put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back. He frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yuh,” she said.
“Sure?”
She nodded.
He let go of her shoulders.
Damn.
“Okay, then,” he said, and stepped through the door.
“Wait,” she said, her throat dry, her voice no more than a squeak. “Not okay yet.”
But Ross was already past Liss and the girls, skipping down the steps toward M Street.
Grace followed through the door, feeling floaty, trying to inhale that warm, blankety smell.
Liss ste
pped in front of her. “Nice swoon, girl.”
Miranda was at the bottom of the steps, her eyes wary, her hand still over her mouth.
“I didn’t swoon,” Grace said, “I tripped over my own feet.”
“Well, you got a sizzling butter hug out of it,” Liss said. “What are you going to wish for that can top that?”
What was she going to wish for?
Oh, God.
Grace closed her eyes. All she could see was Miss Fisher doubled up on the pavement, her face grimacing in pain in the dim glow of the parking lot lights.
And Grace had caused it.
Grace had caused it. And now she had to fix it.
“I wish—”
“Uh, oh,” Miranda said. She pointed across the parking lot toward the impossible tree.
Ross Alexander was crossing the grass strip between the parking lot and the M Street sidewalk, looking up at the thick, new branch of the weeping maple, scratching his head.
On the sidewalk, a man was riding a pink bicycle. A girl’s pink bicycle, with an absurd pink basket dangling between the handlebars.
He too was looking up at the tree. And riding way too fast.
Way, way too fast.
Ross’s step faltered as his foot hit the sidewalk.
Grace screamed, “Ross!”
Ross turned toward Grace.
The man on the bicycle turned toward Grace.
Even across the thirty yards that separated the sidewalk from the school steps, Grace could hear the sickening crack as the speeding pink bicycle hit Ross Alexander’s leg.
The bicycle flipped into the air, pitching the rider forward, his arms outstretched.
Ross spun from the momentum, his outstretched leg pinwheeling sideways.
The rider tucked his head and curled into a ball as he hit the sidewalk.
The pink bicycle landed on the street, its front wheel folding in half as it scraped the pavement. The basket flew free and spun down M Street.
Ross Alexander crumpled onto the grass beneath the weeping maple.
Grace ran.
Liss and the other girls ran behind her.
Grace dropped to her knees in the grass beside Ross.
Tears streamed down his face. His lower leg was bent at an impossible angle. An acute angle. Not congruent at all. He reached for his leg, grimaced, and fell back.
Grace turned. The biker lay on the sidewalk, propped up on one elbow.
“You okay?”
The rider nodded.
“Got a phone?”
He nodded again.
“Call 911,” Grace said. “Ambulance.”
The biker nodded a third time. He hadn’t said anything yet. Not a good sign. But all of his limbs pointed in the right directions.
“Now!”
Ross gripped Grace’s wrist, hard, and groaned. His face contorted with pain.
Grace wanted to cry. This was all her fault.
She had caused it. All of it. By wishing for the weeping maple branch. By distracting him. By wishing Ross here in the first place.
She never wanted this. Any of it. She never asked for her wishes to come true.
But they had.
She had caused this.
With her wishes.
Wishes...
She had the power to make it right.
“I wish—”
“Wait!” Liss shouted.
Grace glared up at Liss. Through clenched teeth she said, “Back off, Allison.”
“You girls play nice,” Ross said, “or I’ll have you in detention.”
Grace said, “I wish—”
Liss said, “What if this is your last wish, girl?”
Grace glared at her again. “Then I’d wish for you to stop calling me ‘girl,’ Allison.”
“I’m serious,” Liss said. “What if you only get three?”
“Shut up,” Grace said. The idea was absurd.
Straight out of fairy tales.
Just like wishes.
Ross said, “Did you girls smoke all of your weed?”
Grace looked down into Ross’s eyes.
He smiled weakly. Then his smile turned to a grimace and his eyes squeezed shut, sending more tears down his cheeks.
What if she only had one more wish?
Crap.
Grace said, “I wish Miss Fisher were perfectly healthy, right now, right this instant...” She let the sentence hang. There was something more she wanted to say, but she didn’t know what it was.
“What?” Liss said.
Grace didn’t know whether she could make instantaneous wishes. The others had taken hours.
And then she knew how to finish her wish.
“...or as fast as wishes travel.”
Miranda said, “Grace, that’s actually kind of beautiful.”
Miranda really was pretty. And maybe not so stupid after all.
“And I wish Mister Alexander two perfect, healthy legs, as fast as wishes travel. Two perfect, long, gorgeous legs.”
Ross’s eyes jerked open and he yanked his fingers from around her wrist.
Liss said, “Now that’s an awesome wish, girl.”
Then Ross jerked in pain. His face twisted in agony and he groaned between clenched teeth.
Okay. Only three wishes, then. Or maybe no instantaneous ones.
Time would tell.
About the Editor
Rebecca Moesta (pronounced MESS-tuh) is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author with more than 35 books to her credit. She wanted to be an author since she was twelve, and much of her writing focuses on teens. Her solo work includes novels in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Junior Jedi Knights series, short stories, nonfiction articles, and ghost writing. With husband Kevin J. Anderson, she wrote the Crystal Doors trilogy, fourteen Young Jedi Knights novels, the Star Challengers trilogy, six movie or game novelizations, lyrics for two Roswell Six rock CDs (ProgRock Records), a Star Trek graphic novel (DC/WildStorm), two Star Wars pop-up books, and the original graphic novel Grumpy Old Monsters (IDW).
In addition to Wishes, she has also edited two other Fiction River volumes: the previously published Sparks and Superpowers.
Moesta is also the co-publisher of WordFire Press.
Fiction River: Year Five
Feel the Fear
Edited by Mark Leslie
* * *
Superpowers
Edited by Rebecca Moesta
* * *
Justice
Edited by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
* * *
Wishes
Edited by Rebecca Moesta
* * *
Pulse Pounders: Countdown
Edited by Kevin J. Anderson
* * *
Hard Choices
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith
* * *
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Missed a previously published volume? No problem. Buy individual volumes anytime from your favorite bookseller.
* * *
Unnatural Worlds
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith & Kristine Kathryn Rusch
* * *
How to Save the World
Edited by John Helfers
* * *
Time Streams
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith
* * *
Christmas Ghosts
Edited by Kristine Grayson
* * *
Hex in the City
Edited by Kerrie L. Hughes
* * *
Moonscapes
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith
* * *
Special Edition: Crime
Edited by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
* * *
Fantasy Adrift
* * *
Universe Between
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith
* * *
Fantastic Detectives
Edited by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
* * *
Past Crime
Edited by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
* * *
Pulse Pounders
Edited by Kevin J. Anderson
* * *
Risk Takers
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith
* * *
Alchemy & Steam
Edited by Kerrie L. Hughes
* * *
Valor
Edited by Lee Allred
* * *
Recycled Pulp
Edited by John Helfers
* * *
Hidden in Crime
Edited by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
* * *
Sparks
Edited by Rebecca Moesta
* * *
Visions of the Apocalypse
Edited by John Helfers
* * *
Haunted
Edited by Kerrie L. Hughes
* * *
Last Stand
Edited by Dean Wesley Smith & Felicia Fredlund
* * *
Tavern Tales
Edited by Kerrie L. Hughes
Fiction River Page 24