by Liz Kessler
“Never mind,” I said as I pulled my bag onto my shoulder and started to move away.
But then Mandy said, “I’ll call you later,” to Julie and turned back to me.
I stared at her, my eyes wide and jaw open.
Mandy shrugged. “We live in the same direction,” she said.
We walked along in silence for a bit. Now that we were together, I didn’t even know what to talk about.
“Look, I’m sorry I —” I began.
At the same moment, Mandy said, “What did you want to —?”
We stopped walking, stopped talking, and stared at each other for a moment. The horrible tension went up another notch.
“You go first,” Mandy said, heading off again.
I spoke quickly as I jogged to keep up with her. “I just — look, I know that I haven’t really been around much lately,” I said. “And I know I’ve been doing stuff that, well, that most people don’t get to do. It’s not like I want you to hang around waiting for me, and not be friends with anyone else . . .” My words trailed off.
“But . . . ?” Mandy prompted me.
I sighed. “But I’d love to pick up the pieces again.”
Mandy’s face softened. She smiled. “Yeah, me too,” she said.
“I mean, I know how hard it must have been for you,” I went on. “I get that you were jealous of me having so much —”
Mandy had stopped walking. “I was what?” she asked.
I stopped, too, and looked at her. “I . . . you . . .” I began. “I mean, it’s understandable. You were stuck here at school, and I was out there having all these adventures. Anyone would have felt the same way.”
Mandy shook her head as she laughed bitterly. “You think I was jealous of you?” she burst out.
“I . . . Well, yes. That was what I’d thought,” I said uneasily.
“You have some nerve,” Mandy said. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Don’t get what?” I asked, feeling my throat constrict. Things had only just started going well. What had I said wrong?
“So you go on vacation to a tropical island? Big wow. And then five minutes later you make some new friends and go adventuring on some big pirate ship — and you think the problem is that I’m jealous?” Mandy shook her head. “Honestly, I was giving you a chance to apologize to me. I shouldn’t have bothered.”
I could feel my face heating up. “Me apologize to you?” I asked. “What for? What did I do?”
“What, you mean other than look down your nose at the rest of us ever since you got home? Or do you mean going on and on endlessly about your amazing new friends and how no one has ever understood you so well?” Mandy’s voice was thick with anger as she stared at me.
I stared back. I didn’t have any words. I mean, yeah, I might have been a little like that. But what was I supposed to do? Come back home and never mention it?
“If you were a real friend, you’d have wanted to hear about it,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Don’t talk to me about real friends,” Mandy said. “I’m not the one who drops everyone and everything the minute there’s something more interesting to do. The minute there’s somewhere more exciting to be than Brightport. I’m not the one who’s been acting like the world’s ended just because I’ve had to come home to boring old Brightport.”
“I didn’t drop you, and I never said Brightport was boring,” I countered.
“You don’t need to say it,” Mandy replied. “It’s written all over you. Ever since you got home you’re just not interested in anyone around here.”
“I’ve been upset,” I protested. “Aaron’s gone.”
Mandy feigned a yawn. “That again,” she said. “Yeah, Aaron’s gone — but I’m not. I’m still here. Hello! Oh, sorry, I forgot. I’m not good enough for you.”
“That’s not fair,” I said weakly. But the trouble was, I could see her point of view. I’d been so wrapped up in the things I’d been doing over the last few months that ever since I’d gotten home, Brightport did feel dull in comparison. It was hard to adjust to it again. And, yeah, I probably had gone on about Aaron quite a lot the few times that Mandy and I had gotten together.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a quiet voice.
We walked on in silence for a minute. Then Mandy said, “Look, it’s not just you.”
“What’s not just me?”
She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder as she walked. “There’s stuff going on at home,” she said.
“What’s going on at home?”
She squinted at me. “Come on. You don’t really want to know.”
“I do! Of course I do. That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”
“My family’s problems don’t exactly live up to the kind of things you’ve been dealing with lately.”
I stopped walking and touched her arm. Mandy stopped too. I looked her in the eyes. “Look, can we start this again? You are one of my best friends. At least you were — and I want you to be again. And if you’ve got problems, of course I care about them. OK?”
Mandy looked at me for a moment. Then she shrugged. “OK. I’m sorry too. I suppose I was out of line.” She made a face. “And you’re right. Maybe I was a bit jealous.”
I grinned at her. “Jealous of nearly being caught up in a major earthquake, or jealous of being held prisoner on a pirate ship?”
Mandy allowed herself a tiny smile back at me as she started walking again. “Well, I was jealous of the adventures,” she said, “but when you put it like that . . .”
It felt good to laugh with her.
“I mean it,” I said. “I’m really sorry. It’s more my fault than yours. I came back full of ideas, and I probably seemed full of myself. Can we start over?”
Mandy nodded. “I’d like to.”
“So tell me,” I insisted. “Please. What’s been going on? What’s happening with your family?”
Mandy looked down at her feet as we walked. “Just, things are difficult at home,” she began. “You know how Mom and Dad opened the new theme park last year?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, they put all their money into it. They thought we’d be rolling in it by now, but it wasn’t as busy last year as they’d hoped, and the upkeep is bonkers. Two of the rides are already looking worn, another one needs to be repaired, and we barely have enough cash to cover the paint. Mom’s constantly sitting at home with a calculator, trying to figure out where the money for our next meal is going to come from. Dad is busy pretending it’s not happening and spending most nights at a bar. When he’s home, all they do is argue.” She let out a breath. “It’s awful,” she admitted.
I wanted to give her a hug but it still felt too soon. We’d only just made up, and I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. “Oh, Mandy, that sounds horrible,” I said instead.
“Yep,” she agreed.
I looked down as we walked. An empty water bottle was lying on the ground ahead of us. I was about to reach down to pick it up when Mandy kicked it over the side of the pier into the sea. I nearly said something, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want to set her off. I guessed she kicked it out of frustration, and I didn’t blame her.
We’d reached the jetty where I lived.
“Anyway, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Mandy said as we paused at the jetty.
“I want to help you,” I said.
Mandy snorted. “I don’t think anyone can help us,” she said.
“Well, I’m here,” I said. “Anytime you need to talk. I’m your friend. Remember that!”
Mandy made a face. “Yeah, OK,” she said. “Let’s see how it goes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched her walk toward the end of the pier. I hated seeing her so miserable — but at least we’d had a conversation. Maybe there was hope for our friendship yet.
I turned onto the jetty and made my way down to our boat, Fortuna.
“Nice day?” Mom called as I climbed through t
he hatch into the saloon. (That’s what you call the living room on a boat.)
“Yeah, it was OK,” I replied.
“Only OK? First day back, I thought you’d be buzzing!” Mom got up from the sofa and walked into the galley. (That’s the boat name for a kitchen.) “Want to talk about it?”
“I . . .”
Did I want to talk about it? Did I want Mom to know how miserable and lost I felt? How deflated and lonely? How much of a crash back to earth school had been?
No. Mom had enough to deal with settling back into Brightport life herself. She didn’t need me unloading my problems on her as well.
I forced a smile. The effort made my cheeks hurt. “No, it was great, honestly,” I said. “Just tired.” I grabbed a glass and opened the fridge. “I’m going to get some juice and start my homework, if that’s OK?”
Mom ruffled my hair. “Of course it’s OK, love. I’ve got my book group in a bit. Millie’s coming over to hang out with you.”
Even though I’m thirteen and old enough not to need a babysitter, Millie still looks after me sometimes. Mom’s started calling it “hanging out” instead of babysitting, but it amounts to the same thing. I don’t mind, though. I like Millie. She mostly just sits on the couch and watches soap operas, so it doesn’t make much difference either way.
“Just stopping at the store first,” Mom went on. “We’ve run out of tea bags. You know what Millie’s like if she can’t make a cup of Earl Grey while she’s here.”
“OK, Mom. See you in a bit.”
I took my drink into my bedroom and opened my bag. As I pulled my books out, something fell out with them.
The stone.
I picked it up and rolled it around in my hands. The smoothness of it felt comforting. And warm. In fact, it was really warm. Almost hot.
Strange.
I stopped rolling it around in my hands and stared at it. It looked different. The three white lines around the middle were so bright it was as if there were a light on inside the stone. It was magical.
Magical.
Could it really be a magical stone? Not just a silly story that only people like Millie believed? What if it really could grant me three wishes?
I almost laughed at myself. That was how sad my life had become. I was seriously contemplating wishing on a rock!
Still, it couldn’t hurt, could it? I was alone in my bedroom. It wasn’t as if anyone could watch me or laugh at me.
And if ever there was a time that I could use three wishes, it was now.
I had nothing to lose.
I closed both of my hands around the stone and shut my eyes. Then in a soft voice, I said, “I wish there were a way of fixing things with Mandy.”
As I whispered to the stone, it burned and hummed in my hands.
I hear you, it seemed to say. I will do my best.
RAP RAP RAP!
The sound brought me out of the moment so sharply it made me jump. Someone was at the door.
Only one person knocked on our door like that. Mr. Beeston. I assumed Mom would get the door, so I ignored it. I put the stone in my pocket and sorted through my schoolbag.
RAPPITY RAP RAP!
Oh, yes. Mom was out.
I put my books on my bed and went to get the door.
“Ah, Emily,” Mr. Beeston said, narrowing his eyes as he studied me.
Mr. Beeston is one of Mom and Dad’s friends. He actually spent the first twelve years of my life spying on me and Mom and reporting back to Neptune, but that’s all in the past. We forgave him once Dad was released from prison and allowed to live with us.
Dad’s not a criminal — not a real one. All he did wrong was marry my mom. In the old days, merpeople and humans weren’t allowed to marry. But we won Neptune over and he relaxed his laws last year.
We were all friends now. But Mr. Beeston still gave me the creeps sometimes.
“Is your mom in?” he asked, stretching his neck to look inside the boat.
“She’s gone to the store,” I said. “She should be back soon. Do you want to come in and wait?”
Mr. Beeston shook his head. “Far too busy,” he said. I was relieved. I really didn’t want to sit around making small talk with him while we waited for Mom.
Mr. Beeston fumbled in his jacket pocket. “Just give her this, will you?” he said, and handed me a scrunched-up brochure.
I unfolded the brochure and read the heading that was written in bold type:
Does your business need the MIDAS touch? We turn everything we touch to GOLD.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s all in the brochure,” Mr. Beeston replied, pointing at it. “There’s a man in town this week from an investment company called Midas. A Mr. Whittaker. He’s holding a meeting at the town hall on Friday. I was going to see if your mother wanted to come along. Midas is looking to invest in our town.”
“Really? Why?”
Mr. Beeston wiped a nonexistent speck of dust from his jacket lapel. “Well, you know, I’m not one to try to take the credit,” he began.
I burst out laughing and quickly turned it into a cough. “No. Not at all,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the sarcasm.
He clearly didn’t, because he kept on talking. “But I happened to be in a very important meeting with Mr. Whittaker recently, and, I have to say, I think I might have influenced him to visit us.”
“Oh. Right,” I said. “Gosh. Sometimes I forget how important you are.”
Mr. Beeston still hadn’t noticed the sarcasm. “Yes, we had a good chat,” he went on. “I’m fairly confident that I nearly clinched a deal. I would imagine that Friday is merely a formality.”
“What deal?” I asked.
“They are looking to build a hotel, and I’m fairly certain that I persuaded him to choose Brightport. I think our little town could do with a bit of a boost, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, actually, I do,” I said.
“He wants to see what else is going on in Brightport, meet some business owners, and maybe invest in the town beyond their hotel plans. Boost the whole place. Of course, I’ll be there to help make things run smoothly. Tell your mom, won’t you?”
I shrugged. “Sure. But she’s got book group tonight,” I said. “So she might not get back to you till after that.”
Mr. Beeston waved a hand. “Whenever. Anyway, can’t hang around. Bye, now, Emily.”
And with that, he turned to leave. I stood in the doorway watching him walk down the jetty.
My mind was ticking. My heart ticked with it. I reached for the stone in my pocket. It was still warm. Touching it sent a vibration along my arm.
The stone.
I’d made a wish, and two seconds later, Mr. Beeston had brought this brochure over.
A big company wanting to invest in Brightport. Maybe they would invest in the theme park. This Midas company might be able to rescue Mandy’s parents — and I might be able to rescue our friendship.
I pulled the stone out of my pocket. “Did you make this happen?” I whispered.
The stone buzzed gently in reply.
Suddenly, I didn’t care about my homework. Only one thing mattered.
I scribbled a note for Mom and propped it up on the table in the saloon. Then I folded the brochure, put it in my pocket, and ran all the way to Mandy’s.
Oh. Hi.”
Mandy stood in her doorway, scowling at me.
I pulled the brochure from my pocket and held it out to her. “Tell your parents about this,” I said. “There’s a man coming on Friday. He wants to invest in Brightport. He’s from a big hotel chain that’s got lots of money. And they want to spend it on people like your family!”
Mandy took the brochure from me. “What? Why does he want to do that?”
“Read it. It’s all in there.”
She studied the brochure, scanning the text. When she looked back up, there was something different about her. She wasn’t squinting and scowling at me anymore. She was doing somethin
g I hadn’t seen her do since I’d come back to Brightport.
She was smiling. At me.
“Em, this is amazing,” she said — in a friendly voice I hadn’t heard for a long time. “I can’t believe you thought of us.”
“Of course I did,” I said. “I keep trying to tell you — you’re one of my best friends and I want to get our friendship back on track.”
Mandy flung her arms around me. “So do I,” she said, hugging me hard. “I really do. I hated us being so weird and mean to each other.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
Mandy pulled away. “I’m sorry, Emily. Really sorry. I think I let my jealousy get the better of me. It just seemed like you were off having these amazing adventures while I was here with my world falling apart around me.”
I bit my lip. “I was,” I agreed. “I really was having amazing adventures — but I came back with my head so full of them that I didn’t leave room for your feelings. I’m sorry.”
Mandy grimaced. “Thank you. But, hey, it’s not your fault everything’s going wrong for my family.”
I pointed to the brochure. “Maybe it’ll start going right again soon,” I said.
“I’m going to tell my parents now. Fingers crossed these Midas people will choose us as one of the businesses to invest in.”
“I’m sure they will,” I said. “If they plan to open a hotel, I bet they’d want their guests to have a fantastic theme park on their doorstep!”
Mandy beamed at me. “Thank you, Em.”
“No problem,” I said. “And please, do me a favor.”
“Of course. Anything.”
“The next time I’m being an idiot, just tell me. Talk to me and let’s work it out.”
Mandy laughed. “Ditto. I figure I’m way more of an idiot than you are!”
I laughed too. It felt so good.
I pulled her into a hug. “See you tomorrow,” I said.
“See you. And thanks again.”
As Mandy went inside to tell her parents about the meeting, I set off back down the pier to our boat. My mind was racing all the way home. The stone had done this. It had to have done it. I’d wished for a way of fixing my friendship with Mandy, and seconds later Mr. Beeston had turned up at our door and thrust a brochure into my hand that had turned everything around.