The Wishmakers

by Tyler Whitesides

  “What question?” Tina asked.

  “‘When is a door not a door?’” I said.

  Tina, Ridge, and Vale exchanged puzzled glances. “That’s the question we have to ask,” I explained. “If we’ve correctly completed the tasks, then we’ll be given a key and allowed to enter the cave.” I sat down on the edge of the bed. “That’s all I got.”

  “Hmm,” Tina mused. “Texas is a long way from here.” I jumped again. “If we hope to get there tomorrow, we’ll need a faster way to travel than the truck.”

  “What about an airplane?” Ridge asked. “We could wish to catch a flight and be there in a couple of hours.”

  The thought of making another wish and accepting a new consequence made my head spin. I hoped I’d feel a little more optimistic about things in the morning. I lay back on the bed, stretching out just below Vale’s feet, and closed my eyes. For a moment, I tried to forget my quest to save the world from zombie pets, and enjoy the softness of the motel bed.

  “Hey, Tina,” Ridge said, the sound of her name causing the girl to clap, which made my shoelaces untie. “Didn’t you have a secret you were supposed to tell Ace?”

  My eyes snapped open and I sat up sharply. I’d almost forgotten about that.

  She waved us off and slouched into the couch cushions. “It was nothing. Nothing important.”

  “You said it would even things out between us,” I added, remembering the words she’d seemed to regret. “What was it?”

  “You’re not going to like it,” she answered. “It’s just something I did to make the week pass a little smoother.”

  “Actually, I’m very interested,” I said. “I could use a little tip to help me out.”

  “It won’t help you,” she muttered. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  “Would you just tell me the secret already?” I cried. Vale sighed and lay back on the fluffy pillows, like she knew what her Wishmaker was about to reveal.

  Tina swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on a jellybean-shaped stain on the motel carpet. “I’m not really that good at rock, paper, scissors,” she finally said.

  “That’s your secret?” I was thoroughly disappointed.

  “I mean . . .” Tina stammered. “I win every time.” Was she gloating now?

  “Not every time,” I corrected. “I beat you the first time, just before we changed Thackary Anderthon’s spare tire.”

  “I know,” Tina said. “But I made sure you never won again.” She took a deep breath. “I made a wish so that I would always win rock, paper, scissors.”

  I went numb, a feeling of gullibility spreading up from my toes. “You did . . . what?”

  “I wished to win that stupid game,” Tina said. “That’s why I kept challenging you. I knew I couldn’t lose, so you would have to bear all the consequences.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Tina stood up, sat down, screamed, and then stood up again. Ridge had returned to the binder of amenities, pretending to read in order to remove himself from the awkward situation.

  Tina had tricked me! I didn’t care what consequence she had accepted to win rock, paper, scissors. I was sure it was something minuscule in comparison to what I had been dealing with.

  “Wow,” I muttered. “I’m having a hard time knowing who the bad guy is anymore.” She didn’t say anything, but slowly moved toward the door.

  Tina pulled open the door and stepped out into the cool night, forcefully muttering “alley-oop” as she passed through the doorway. Vale jumped off the bed and hurried after her Wishmaker, mumbling something about needing to take a walk.

  As the door swung shut, I fell back into the big pillows of the Big Pillow Motel. Now that Tina had explained the truth, I felt every bit a loser.

  And not just at rock, paper, scissors.

  Chapter 31

  I felt someone flop down on the bed next to me. Peering out from the pillows, I saw it was Ridge. Of course it was Ridge. He was the only one left in the room.

  “You know, I don’t think most Wishmakers take on as many consequences as you,” he said.

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Ridge,” I said. “That just makes me regret my wishes even more.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . hang in there, Ace. You’re doing really well considering all the stuff you’re dealing with.”

  “Consequences! Ahh! I don’t want to think about them!” I scrunched my eyes shut and plugged my ears to block out all sound other than my own breathing. After a peaceful moment of ignoring everything, I opened my eyes. But when I went to remove my fingers from my ears, they wouldn’t budge.

  “Hey!” I said, sitting up, slightly panicked. “What’s going on?”

  Ridge reached up and tugged at my hand, but it was like my index fingers were fused into my ears. Then I remembered. Another consequence. In exchange for my wish to listen through Tina’s door at the hospital, my fingers would be stuck in my ears for the next half hour.

  “Can you hear me?” Ridge asked. His voice was muffled, but I had no problem understanding him in the quiet motel room.

  “I can’t take this anymore!” I said. “I’ve lost track of how many consequences I’ve had to put up with.” I was feeling angry at the Universe for piling everything on my shoulders. “Let’s see.” I began to list them. In no particular order.

  “I have a smudge of peanut butter on my cheek that I can’t wipe off. I’ll never be able to find the house of my foster parents. I ripped a door off its hinges, and got plastered in bird poop. I bounced across the couch to land in Tina’s lap, and I haven’t been able to read for nearly a week. I had to tell everyone my greatest desire, and each time I say ‘hello’ my sleeves grow an inch.” As proof, my sleeves came unfolded as I said the word, the fabric spilling past my wrists and around my plugged ears.

  “I know it’s a lot to deal with. . . .” Ridge began.

  “A lot?” I cried. “I’m just getting started! My fingers are stuck in my ears. I have to salute every white car that passes. My left shoelace comes untied whenever someone claps. I sang ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ for a half hour straight. I’ve got a stupid piece of toilet paper stuck to my foot, and my pants are on backward. Every time you turn into a shark, I’m left belly crawling. My right eye is the color of pee, and my toothpaste tastes like cauliflower. I had to wear a heavy knight’s helmet for a day. My socks get wet whenever I laugh, and I have to jump whenever I hear the name of a state. My tongue is green, and my breath smells like fish. I can’t tell left from right. Every time I walk under a lightbulb, it explodes. If I see a yellow flower, I get a mosquito bite. I have to answer every question with another question. I sneeze green grapes, for crying out loud!”

  “And your left arm fell off for a day,” Ridge reminded me.

  “Exactly!” I shouted. The fact that I didn’t even remember to mention that my arm fell off shows you how crazy I was going. Don’t you think it should be memorable if your arm falls off?

  “It’s been rough on you,” Ridge said. “And you’re probably counting the minutes until this week ends and I go away. But think of all the wishes, Ace. Think of all the things you’ve been able to do.” He punched the mattress. “We’re going to catch Thackary Anderthon. We’re going to stop him from opening the Undiscovered Genie jar. You’re going to save the world, Ace. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  “Does it?” I answered him with a question. “I didn’t want a genie,” I muttered. “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

  Ridge tilted his head. “I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that. You chose to open my jar five days ago. Having me here is the consequence.”

  “I thought you were peanut butter!” I reminded him. “I probably wouldn’t have opened the peanut butter jar if I’d seen the warning label.” It didn’t seem fair. “Sometimes I feel like this whole quest was rigged. Like the Universe already knows what’s going to happen and it just wants to watch me s
uffer.”

  “I’m not sure if the Universe knows how everything will end,” said Ridge. “But the Universe doesn’t own you. It can’t make you do anything. You push on to save the world because it’s what you choose to do.”

  “Then why do I bother?” I asked. “All my choices just slow me down. We’re always one step behind Thackary Anderthon, and I can’t seem to do anything right. And if we succeed, it still means the end of the world because Jathon will fail. I wish . . .” I wasn’t sure exactly how to phrase this one. But if I got it right, this single wish could save me from a lot of heartache.

  “Easy now, Ace,” Ridge said, looking a bit apprehensive. “Never wish angry.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to make any more wishes,” I said. “No more choices, no more wishes, no more consequences.”

  My white hourglass clicked out of my leather wristband.

  Ridge exhaled long and slow, running a hand through his mess of black hair. “That’s a . . . hmmm.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

  “What’s the consequence?” I asked.

  Ridge shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I mean the Universe is silent on this one.”

  “So there’s not a consequence?” I asked. Had I struck the jackpot? By giving up my wishes, could I accept this for free?

  “No,” said Ridge. “There’s definitely a consequence, I just don’t know what it is.”

  “Has this ever happened before?” I asked.

  Ridge shrugged. How would he know? I was his first assignment. “I thought I was always supposed to know the Wishmaker’s consequence.” He scratched his cheek. “So . . . do you accept?”

  “Accept what?” I asked. How could I agree to something that I didn’t even know?

  “I guess that’s what the Universe wants you to commit to,” Ridge said. “If you want to give up your wishes badly enough, you’ll take the unknown consequence.”

  I shook my head. The whole situation felt like a trap, like the Universe was trying to manipulate me.

  “I may not be the best Wishmaker,” I said, “but I’m not stupid. I won’t accept a consequence I don’t know. I mean, it could cause a giant meteor to hit the earth and kill everyone on the planet.”

  My hourglass snapped back into place and I slumped back down into the pillows, my fingers still jammed in my ears.

  “That was strange,” Ridge said.

  “Stranger than sneezing grapes?” I asked.

  “A wish with an unknown consequence,” said Ridge. “I’ll have to ask Vale if she’s ever come across that. She seems to know everything.”

  “Her and Tina both,” I said. I suddenly couldn’t help but let out a laugh at how pathetic we seemed. “We’re not very good at this,” I pointed out, my socks wet from my laugh.

  “We don’t have to be perfect,” said Ridge. “We just have to save the world.”

  Chapter 32

  The sixth day of my quest to save the world went like this.

  I slept late and woke up with a stiff neck, because the big pillows at the Big Pillow Motel were too big. There’d been no sign of Tina or Vale since they walked out of the room the night before, so Ridge and I wandered over to the lobby for the free breakfast. We ate stale muffins and tangy orange juice, but anything was better than those smashed peanut butter sandwiches in my backpack.

  I was going back for thirds when the lobby door opened and in walked Tina and Vale. I pretended like I didn’t see them, draping a couple strips of flaccid, transparent bacon on my plate and returning to the small table where Ridge sat.

  “You guys ready to go?” Tina asked, as though everything were normal between us.

  “What makes you think we’re going anywhere together?” I answered with a question. “I think Ridge and I will do just fine on our own.” I refused to look up at her.

  “Then I guess Vale and I will take the jet by ourselves,” said Tina.

  I finally glanced up. “Jet?”

  “Yeah,” answered Tina. “I was trying to think of the fastest way to get the four of us to San Antonio, so I wished for a private jet.”

  I had to admit that sounded pretty cool, but with Tina’s track record, I wondered if it was just another trick. My defenses were up now. I wasn’t going to fall for any yellow-eyed, green-tongued Wishmaker with a private jet.

  Vale cleared her throat conspicuously. “Hey, Ridge. Why don’t we go get some oatmeal?”

  “I’m not really an oatmeal guy,” Ridge answered.

  “Then how about some yogurt?” Vale pressed.

  “They don’t have the flavors I like,” he said.

  “Ridge.” Vale was growing impatient. “Why don’t you come help me with the waffle maker?”

  “It’s pretty simple,” he said. “Just put the batter in and close the lid—”

  “Ridge!” Vale grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him to his feet. “We’re going over there for a few minutes.”

  I watched Vale pull my genie over to the buffet table as Tina sat down in Ridge’s vacant chair.

  “I’m sorry, Ace,” she began. “I really am.” I glanced across the table at her, but she was looking down. “I’m not proud of what I did. I shouldn’t have tricked you like that. You’re a brave Wishmaker. Braver than me.”

  I liked where this was going, but it didn’t mean I was going to forgive her.

  “I’ve been thinking about that consequence that Jathon accepted,” Tina went on. “How he can’t spend time with friends for the rest of his life. But I think I have it worse.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Jathon has no friends because the Universe won’t let him,” Tina said. “But I don’t have any friends because of who I am all by myself.” She sniffed. “I’m a liar, Ace. My whole life I’ve struggled with it. Keeping secrets from the ones I should trust. Maybe I am the bad guy.”

  “Hey,” I said, setting down my bacon and turning to her. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. I understand why you rigged rock, paper, scissors. I might have even done the same thing, if I’d been smart enough to think of it.” I thought about putting my hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think you’re the bad guy, Tina.”

  At the sound of her name, she clapped her hands and my shoelaces untied. “I want to finish this together,” she said, staring straight at me. “We have to finish this together. I thought about wishing to make you forgive me, but that seemed like another trick. Another lie.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Forgiveness wouldn’t mean much if the Universe forced me into it.”

  “I know,” Tina said. “It has to be something you choose.”

  I was sick of making choices. Choices that brought awful consequences. But maybe this one could actually bring a good consequence.

  “You really have a private jet?” I asked. She nodded. “What consequence did you take for that?”

  “Oh, several, actually,” said Tina. “In order to get the jet, the Universe destroyed my three most favorite possessions.” She paused, then decided to list them. “My guitar, a bracelet from Peru, and a blanket my abuela made for me.”

  I grimaced. I only had one real possession. And I’d be pretty upset if the Universe had destroyed my ace card.

  “Of course, after I got the jet, I needed a pilot,” Tina said. “As a consequence for that wish, I’ll pee my pants anytime someone hugs me today.”

  I snickered, wetting my socks, and she shook her head, unamused.

  “Lastly, I agreed to have my left elbow itch for the rest of the week.”

  “What was that consequence for?”

  “That was for wishing that the jet would be able to take off from the motel parking lot,” Tina said.

  I stood up, grinning. “Seriously?”

  She nodded, scratching her elbow. “We’re all ready to fly to the cave. I just need to know if you and Ridge are coming with us.”

  It was hard to stay mad at Tina
when I could see how sincere her apology was. And the fact that she’d taken on these consequences proved that she was trying to atone for the way she’d played me.

  “Let’s go stop Thackary Anderthon,” I said. “Or save his life.”

  I moved around the table, waving the genies over. Ridge was just pulling a fresh waffle out of the iron, but he left it abandoned on the countertop.

  “Thanks, Ace,” Tina said. “Thanks for giving me a second chance.”

  “Just promise that you won’t trick me again,” I said.

  Tina paused, and then opened her mouth to say something. Vale cut her off, gesturing toward the lobby exit. “This way to the jet, boys.”

  My gaze lingered on Tina for a moment longer, but she turned and strode after Vale, leaving Ridge and me to follow. I didn’t know what to think. I could tell Tina felt bad about what she’d done. But she also seemed to think that lies and trickery were part of who she was.

  I had forgiven her. And on a scale of one to ten, my trust in her was sitting somewhere around a seven. We were teammates, but I’d need to keep my eye on Tina.

  The pilot greeted us as we boarded the private jet. Captain Steve. He was a cheerful fellow, but the Universe had really worked him over. To fulfill Tina’s wish, he had suddenly appeared in the cockpit, with no need for an explanation of why he was departing from a motel parking lot and flying four kids across the country.

  We settled into the big comfortable seats for takeoff. Once we were in the sky, I noticed Tina hunched over a tray table. Leaning forward, I saw that she was writing something on a pale blue sheet of paper.

  “Catching up on your journal?” I asked, causing Tina to swipe a protective hand over the page.

  “None of your business,” she snapped.

  I might have pressed the issue if Ridge hadn’t suddenly arrived with a few sodas and a bag of pretzels.

  “They’ve got a ton of snacks in the back in case you get hungry.” He handed me a drink and seated himself beside me. Tina finished her scrawling and hastily folded the blue paper, tucking it into her pocket.

  We talked. We napped. We ate.