On his knees in the hot boxcar, Thackary looked up at me. The sunlight angled in from above, and I saw that his right eye was bright yellow. Just like Tina and me. He must have accepted the same consequence at Mount Rushmore. It gave me a twinge of satisfaction to see that Thackary also had to endure the crazy eye.
The boy made a gesture with his bound hands. He wasn’t reckless enough to try to strip off the gag. Vale made it obvious that she would be on him before he could get it. He held one hand in front of him, using his other hand to draw something on the palm.
“I think he’s trying to tell us that his palms are itchy,” Ridge said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. “I think he’s offering to read our palms and tell the future. Probably a trick.”
“Or,” said Tina, “he wants to write us a message since we won’t allow him to speak.”
The boy made a few more strained speaking sounds, his eyes casting desperately around the boxcar. Then he scrambled forward, using his bound hands to grasp a small piece of coal that must have tumbled into the boxcar with our arrival.
Hunched over the dirty floor, Thackary Anderthon began scraping a message. I watched the letters appear, but I couldn’t actually read it because of my consequence. When he was finished writing, the boy rocked back on his heels and let us have a clear look.
Tina and Vale shared a look of confusion. Ridge scratched his head, jaw slightly agape.
“What?” I said. “What does it say?”
Ridge pointed to the coal-scribed letters on the floor and read them aloud.
“‘I am NOT Thackary Anderthon!’”
Chapter 21
The four of us stared in silence at the message on the floor, while the captive boy watched us.
“Did you read that wrong?” I finally asked Ridge.
“I know how to read,” he said defensively. “‘I am NOT Thackary Anderthon.’”
“I know you aren’t,” I said to Ridge. “But if he isn’t”—I pointed to the stranger—“then who is?”
The boy made a bunch of sounds like he wanted to explain himself. I’ll admit, I was tempted to untie his mouth so we could get to the bottom of this.
“Do you want me to untie his mouth so we can get to the bottom of this?” Ridge asked. I looked to Tina and Vale, but the girls were still silently pondering the message.
“I don’t know,” I said to Ridge. “What do you think?”
“It seems a little trappy to me.”
“Trappy?” I asked.
“You know, like a trap?” said Ridge. “He probably just wrote that so we would let him speak. And before we can do anything, he’ll grab his jar, the genie will appear, he’ll make some horrible wish, and we’ll be thrown through the roof before you can say ‘muumuu.’”
“I won’t,” said the boy who claimed not to be Thackary. The sound of his voice caused me and Ridge to stagger backward in surprise.
“How did he get loose?” I swung my fist in his direction, in case he felt like pouncing at me.
Vale stepped back from him, holding the strip of cloth that had bound his mouth. “He can’t do us any harm,” she said. “Not while Tina has his genie in the pickle jar.”
I guess that made sense. In order to grant a wish, the genie had to be out of the jar. In order to call her out of the jar, the boy would have to be holding it.
“She’s in there most of the time,” the boy answered.
“That’s awful!” Ridge said to the prisoner. “Why would you keep your genie sealed up? Do you know what it’s like inside that jar? No wonder the Universe said you were a horrible person.”
“The Universe described me to you?” the boy said.
“It’s our quest to stop you,” I said, “from opening the Undiscovered Genie jar.” I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “Unless you really aren’t Thackary Anderthon, as you claim.”
“I’m not,” he said. “My name is Jathon.”
“Jason?” I asked.
“No, Jathon.”
“Come on,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Thackary? Jathon?”
“I’m not making it up,” the boy insisted. “My name is Jathon.” He took a deep breath, and I had a feeling that he was about to say something we didn’t want to hear. “My father is Thackary Anderthon.”
“No!” I shouted. “That supermean pirate-talking guy that ditched us on the interstate after we changed his tire?”
“The same supermean pirate-talking guy who pushed me off a cliff?” Ridge added.
The boy nodded. “That’s my dad.” He looked me defiantly in the face, his yellow eye twitching.
“Where is he now?” Tina asked. “Why wasn’t your father in here when we found you?”
“We got separated.” Jathon studied us helplessly. “What are you going to do to my dad?” he asked.
“It’s not possible,” muttered Vale. “One of you must be lying.” To my surprise, the redheaded genie was looking between Jathon and . . . me!
“Lying?” I cried. “What would I have to lie about?”
Vale took a step toward me, Tina watching intently from across the boxcar. “You said your quest was to stop Thackary Anderthon from opening the Undiscovered Genie jar, but only kids can become Wishmakers.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “So either you’re lying about your quest”—then she pointed at Jathon, who was kneeling on the floor—“or you’re lying about your dad being Thackary.”
“We might both be telling the truth,” Jathon said. “I can explain!”
Vale backed away from us, and I wondered if her natural angry form was even scarier than her gray wolf.
“My dad,” the boy said, rising slowly to his feet, “Thackary . . . he was a Wishmaker years ago, when he was a kid. He made some bad choices and took on some tough consequences that he’s had to live with forever.”
“So, he’s the ex-Wishmaker, not you,” Tina exclaimed, stepping forward with interest.
Jathon nodded. “That’s why my dad could see the rockmen. Since he was once a Wishmaker, he can see through the Universe’s shield against magical suspicion.”
“How long ago did you get your genie?” Tina followed up.
“About three days,” he answered.
“Same as us,” I pointed out.
“Once I became a Wishmaker,” Jathon continued, “my genie changed everything. With this power . . . I have to help my dad.”
“Why would you want to help that guy?” Ridge asked. “He’s awful!”
“You don’t understand. I have to help him,” Jathon emphasized. “If I don’t, it’s going to rain pianos for a hundred years!”
“Pianos?” I questioned.
Jathon nodded. “That’s the consequence if I fail my quest.”
I found it strange that Jathon, too, was fighting to prevent such a terrible consequence. Zombie cats and dogs, lemonade flood, or raining pianos. Three unusual (and unpleasant) ways for the world to end.
“So, your quest is to help your dad?” Tina asked him.
Jathon nodded. “The Universe has instructed me to help the person I’m closest to in achieving his greatest desire.” He sniffed. “My dad can be awful sometimes—pretty much all the time—but he’s the only one who’s always there for me.”
“So what does Thackary Anderthon want so bad?” Tina said.
“He wants to make a wish,” Jathon answered. “One that my genie can’t grant.”
“But your dad can’t make wishes,” I said. “He’s not a Wishmaker anymore.”
“And he can’t be,” insisted Vale. “Adults can’t become Wishmakers. It’s against the rules.”
“The Undiscovered Genie has the power to break the rules,” Jathon said.
“You’re saying that your dad can become a Wishmaker?” I hated to think of what that horrible man might wish for. If anyone were to wish for the zombie pet apocalypse, it would be him.
“The Undiscovered Genie is different,” Jathon said. “That’s why he was locked awa
y. I’ll help my dad open that jar. Then he can finally wish for his greatest desire!”
“Not going to happen!” I shouted. “I will stop Thackary Anderthon. The world depends on it!”
“Wait a minute,” Ridge cut in. “Does anyone see a problem here?”
“I can see several,” Tina said.
“I’m talking about our quests,” said Ridge. “Ours is to stop Thackary Anderthon from opening the jar, but Jathon’s is to help him do it.” The genie shook his head. “If Ace fails, the world is destroyed by zombie cats and dogs. If Jathon fails, the world is destroyed by raining the piano concerto of doom.”
“And I’m supposed to save his life,” Tina said. “Add lemonade into the mix.”
“It’s a lose-lose situation,” I muttered, stepping back from Jathon. “Why would the Universe do this to us?”
“It wouldn’t.” Vale closed her eyes, apparently deep in thought. “There has to be some way for all of your quests to be fulfilled.”
“You really think so?” I asked. “Because this just seems like another one of the Universe’s demented jokes.”
“This isn’t about the Universe,” Tina said. “It’s about us.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“It’s our choices,” she said. “Our wishes.”
“Tina’s right,” said Vale. “As long as you can make your own choices, there is hope. Not even the Universe can mess with that.”
I turned back to Jathon. He had to know something to help it all make sense. I was tempted to say the trigger word and use my air shark to scare some answers out of him. But if we forced Jathon to speak, couldn’t he just tell us lies?
I turned to Ridge. “I wish this kid would tell us everything he knows about the Undiscovered Genie.”
Jathon’s face paled at my audacious wish. My hourglass flipped open and Ridge laid things out for me. “If you want Jathon to tell you more about the Undiscovered Genie,” he said, “then you have to tell everyone here about your greatest desire.”
I looked at him as though he had just betrayed me. Ridge already knew what my greatest desire was. I had made the wish just a few hours ago.
He shrugged apologetically, and I remembered that he hadn’t come up with that consequence. I didn’t need any extra clarification on this one. I just had to think it over. Was it a good idea to let Tina and Vale know about my past? Or rather, my lack of a past? Let alone, Jathon! He was the bad guy. It felt wrong to tell them all something so personal to me.
But we really needed to know more about the Undiscovered Genie. Jathon claimed this new genie was different, and according to the Universe, Thackary was going to use him to end the world with zombie pets.
“Sorry, Ace,” Ridge muttered. I looked at Tina, then Vale, and last at Jathon Anderthon.
“Fine. Bazang,” I said. Part of me hoped I could keep my mouth shut and not blab about my mysterious past. But I knew that wouldn’t be the case. I could already feel the Universe compelling me to tell the others. Might as well get this over with.
“Okay. I’ll go first,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know where I came from.”
Everyone stared at me in silence for a moment. Then Tina said, “Nebraska.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, obviously. But before that.”
“Can’t you ask your parents?” Vale responded.
“That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t have parents. I don’t have siblings. I don’t even know my real name.”
“Ace . . .” Tina said.
“Is what they named me because of this.” I pulled the folded playing card from my pocket. “The ace of hearts. It’s the only thing I have. Not even a single memory before I was nine years old. I want to know where I came from. Is my family out there, waiting for me to come home?”
I looked at Jathon and wondered again if the Universe had threatened such a heavy consequence because I was related to the Anderthons. Jathon certainly didn’t seem to recognize me. And we looked nothing alike.
“I want to get some answers about who I really am,” I concluded. “That’s my greatest desire.”
It fell awkwardly quiet in the boxcar, the only sound the rhythmic thump of the train’s wheels on the track. I no longer felt the Universe urging me to say more, and I knew I had paid off the consequence by giving up the most personal bit of information I had.
“Now,” Ridge said, dispelling the silence, “it’s your turn, Jathon Anderthon, thon of Thackary Anderthon.”
“Umm . . . you said ‘thon’ instead of ‘son,’” I said to Ridge.
“No, I didn’t,” he replied. “I thaid, ‘Thackary Anderthon . . .’”
“And now you just said ‘thaid,’ inthead of ‘said.’”
“Well, you just said ‘inthead’ instead of ‘instead,’” Ridge answered.
“Guys!” Tina yelled, abruptly ending our discussion. She pointed at Jathon. “Tell us what else you know about the Undiscovered Genie.” She seemed very interested to collect on my wish now that I had paid the consequence.
Jathon began to shake his head in defiance, but I saw the Universe work its magic and suddenly he was spewing valuable information like a fire hydrant. Except fire hydrants spew water.
“My father wants to use the Undiscovered Genie to make a wish that will remove all his old consequences,” Jathon said. “Lifelong consequences that he’s carried for thirty years.”
Well, that would explain why he talked like a pirate all the time.
“Impossible,” said Vale. “You can’t wish to undo consequences.”
“That’s what we thought,” said Jathon, “but my father convinced me to make a wish to find out if there was any way to remove them.” He shrugged, an uncomfortable gesture with both hands still tied up. “Since I needed to help my dad to complete my quest, I made the wish.”
“What was your consequence?” Ridge asked.
“No friends,” Jathon answered. “I mean, I can make friends, but I’ll never be able to spend time with them. Forever.”
“So basically, you’re grounded for life?” That was just cruel.
Jathon made me feel better about the consequences I’d accepted. The thing about meeting other Wishmakers was that someone else always seemed to have it worse than you.
“I took the consequence and learned that my dad could erase his old consequences by opening the jar of the Undiscovered Genie,” said Jathon. “Long ago, the original Wishmakers locked his jar into a secret cave. So I made another wish to know how I could get inside that cave.”
“We know about the tasks,” I said. “And we know that anyone who accomplishes the tasks will be granted a key to enter the Cave of the Undiscovered Genie.” I gave a victorious smirk. “We found your notebook.”
“Why would you write down something so valuable?” Tina asked.
“I couldn’t speak at the time,” Jathon answered. “It was a consequence for . . . well, it’s a long story. But my dad was too impatient to get the information that I’d learned about the tasks, so I wrote it down so he could read it.” He scrunched his face in confusion. “How did you guys find out what I wrote? We ripped out the pages and burned them.”
“The Universe told us,” I said. “And I paid an arm and a leg to figure it out. Actually, not a leg. Just an arm . . . but still.”
“What was your consequence for learning about the tasks?” Ridge asked.
“I got this jacket,” Jathon answered, looking down at his black leather apparel.
“That’s a pretty cool-looking consequence, if you ask me,” I said. How come mine never turned out that nice?
Jathon shook his head. He looked down bitterly at the leather he was wearing. “It’s not as cool as it looks. I can’t take it off for the rest of the week.”
“So you have to wear a black jacket,” I replied. “It’s not that bad.”
“The inside is lined with sandpaper.”
Ouch. That had to hurt.
I glared at the boy. “Go
on,” I demanded.
“There is only one more thing I know,” said the boy. But he was trembling, trying uselessly to hold it back.
“Spill it, Jathon!” I shouted. “All of it.”
“The Undiscovered Genie can grant any wish. Any wish. And once you open his jar and tether yourself to him, you get the first wish”—Jathon held his breath, as if trying not to say the next part—“consequence free.”
“Consequence free?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. I wouldn’t have believed him if he weren’t obligated to speak the truth.
“That’s all I’m forced to say,” Jathon said, slowly bowing his bearded face into the shadows of the boxcar.
The rest of us were silent, contemplating the idea of a wish with no consequence. What would you wish for? What’s that one thing that you desire more than anything else? You know what mine is, and thanks to the consequence I had just accepted, now everyone else in the boxcar knew it, too.
I could find out my past.
“My father is out there,” Jathon said, his voice barely audible. “And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants most.”
“The Undiscovered Genie,” I muttered.
A wish without a consequence.
Chapter 22
I couldn’t help it. I wished for a mattress. Have you ever ridden in an empty boxcar for fifteen hours straight? Let me say—not comfy. In exchange for the luxurious mattress to sleep on, my left shoelace would come untied anytime someone clapped their hands. But it would only last the rest of the week, so it was totally worth it.
I awoke around dawn, suddenly remembering where I was. I leaped from my cozy mattress, my shifting weight causing Ridge to roll off the other side and land with a thump on the floor.
I blinked a few times, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the lighting. Ridge was pulling himself up off the floor. Tina was sitting in the corner, and Vale was standing beside her.
Jathon Anderthon was gone.
“Where is he?” I shouted, crossing the boxcar to face Tina.
She remained seated, her face turned upward to the jagged hole in the roof, a bit of early morning light illuminating her flat expression.
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