Careful What You Wish For (14 page)

Why did this guy care how often I had to pee? “Maybe I have a small bladder, okay?” They were
so
going to air that on the reality show. I was going to be the smelly girl who had to use the toilet every three minutes.

But who cared? Nothing mattered anymore. I lost my dad, my best friend, and my boyfriend all in one week. And to top it off, my attempts to do good in the world were all failing.

When I finally got inside the bathroom, I sat down with my back up against the door. I thought the silence and getting away from everyone would be comforting, help me relax. But it was the opposite. I just kept picturing Cole reaching out for Gabi's hand. It was like one of those sappy perfume commercials where the guy helps the woman up from a puddle and then they go on to live happily ever after. While me, I was probably doomed to shoveling coal in the underworld. And then I'd be depressed forever. Shoveling
coal
would just remind me of
Cole.
My Cole. The Cole that ditched me for Gabi.

How could I get him to notice me? I crossed my arms around my chest. My nonexistent one. And then it occurred to me. Maybe if I had boobs Cole would look at me. They'd give me an edge over Gabi. She didn't have any, either.

But it wasn't like they were going to grow overnight—if ever. Unless . . .

No. I couldn't. Could I?

I looked down at my shirt. Yeah, my powers had messed up before. But this was worth the risk. Instead of Double-A, I could be Double-D. That was pretty good motivation. And since the bathroom was quiet, I could focus, really concentrate on making them grow. Lou always said concentration and powers went hand in hand. Although, he'd probably flip out if he knew what I had in mind. Even more incentive!

Big boobs here I come
. I was going for it.

I slapped my hands over my chest and closed my eyes and chanted, “Grow, grow, grow, grow, grow.”

Nothing was happening. I was still flat as an ironing board. “Come on,” I groaned. Why wasn't this working? I even made up a rhyme. “Come on chest, be the best, be bigger than all the rest.”

Still nothing.

I needed to clear my mind. No Gabi, no Cole. Just my boobs getting bigger. I envisioned it, saw myself actually needing a bra—not just wearing one to wear one—and all of a sudden, my hands pushed outward. My boobs were growing.

And growing.

And growing!!!

They wouldn't stop. They were getting massive. Like all of my teachers' boobs combined. And then some.
Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!

Finally, after what seemed like two and a half lifetimes, they did. I looked in the mirror and let out a slight gasp. My powers worked all right. Too well. My shirt was completely stretched to the limit. Barney looked like he'd gained two hundred pounds, his face was so stretched. And the boobs hiked my shirt up putting my belly on display for the world to see. How was I going to explain this?

This wasn't what I had in mind. I
had
wanted big boobs. But not bowling balls.

“Go back to your normal size,” I said. I tried pushing them, hoping they'd flatten back down, but they wouldn't. This was bad. I kept trying. Then I heard a couple of voices nearing the bathroom. No one could see me like this. I needed to hide in one of the stalls. But I hadn't moved quickly enough. The door to the bathroom was opening.

I used my powers to hold it shut. “All full in here. Use the one down the hall,” I said.

But the person on the other side wasn't giving up.

“Come on. Open up. I just want to use the mirror.”

“Busy,” I answered.

“What are you doing? I'm getting a teacher,” the voice on the other side said.

I didn't need to draw more attention to myself. I had to make a break for it. So I opened the door and bolted.

I was definitely getting in my exercise for the day. The cameraman, too. He was right behind me as I made my way through the halls. Running with boobs was weird. They felt like two bean bags strapped to my chest. I held up my arms to cover them, to keep them still. But there was no stopping. Not with the cameraman on my tail.

He couldn't film me with these things. I could just imagine what people would think when they saw them. That I balled up toilet paper—seven rolls worth—in my bra, or put balloons or melons in there. It was disastrous. Being Double-A was bad, but being a bra stuffer was even worse. People would be flinging dirty tissues at me for the rest of my existence.

We neared the corner. I was about twenty feet ahead of him. It was my only shot. I had to duck into a room before he made the turn and saw where I went. The second one on the right looked empty. I made my move.

I held my breath and waited, but no one followed me in. I took a look around. There was a couch, a coffee machine, a TV. The teachers' lounge—where they went to get away from all of us. I had never been inside before. It was pretty cool.

The closet drew my attention. There had to be something in there to cover up my chest. The selection wasn't big. I saw a man's suit jacket, a fleece hoodie, and a trench coat. I grabbed the trench coat. It was way too old-looking for me, but I didn't care. It would do the trick.

I put it on, closed the belt, and shoved my hands in the pockets. There was a pair of sunglasses inside. I threw them on, too. Anything to help keep that cameraman from recognizing me.

Just then the door to the lounge creaked open. As casually as I could, I moved to the coffee machine, keeping my back to the door. Whoever it was just needed to think I was a teacher.

“Can I help you?”

It was the principal, Mr. Stanton. His low, no-nonsense voice couldn't be mistaken.

I shook my head no.

“What are you doing in here, Miss Garrett?”

How'd he know it was me? I didn't even say anything. Guess I was the only person in Goode Middle School with fire-engine-red hair. I took off the sunglasses and gave him a tiny smile. He didn't look amused. “I'm going to repeat myself,” he said. “What are you doing in here?”

There was no way I was getting in trouble. I needed an excuse. Something he'd go for. “Max!” I said. “Max wanted a cup of coffee and asked me to come in here and get it for him.”

“Oh,” Mr. Stanton said. “Why didn't you say so? He's a fine young man. What that boy wants he should get.” Stanton was under the Max spell like almost everyone else.

And since helping Max got me in this mess, it was only fitting that I used him to get me out of it—at least part of it. “Exactly.”

The bell sounded, and I grabbed a cup of coffee. “I'd better go.”

I needed to make my escape while the halls were busy. It was easier to get lost in a crowd. And I needed to get to Gabi—without being followed. It was time to put an end to this giant mess.

I rushed to my locker with my head down. Gabi's was a few feet away from mine, and she tended to stop there after science class. The plan was to grab her, lock us in a classroom, and keep her trapped until she agreed to undo the wishes. That's right, I was going to star-nap her. It was my only choice. My powers weren't working, and I needed an alternative.

I glanced up. She was there all right. And Cole was with her!

They were laughing about something. Probably me. And that was without even seeing my new boobs. I took a step closer. “So can we grab that movie on Friday?” he asked her.

“I already told you,” she said, dropping her head slightly. A piece of hair fell in front of her face. Cole pushed it away and his hand just stayed there on her cheek. And he wouldn't stop looking at her. Then he leaned in.

HE WAS GOING TO KISS HER!

I was holding one of those old-school Styrofoam cups of coffee in my hand and without even realizing it, I crushed it, sending hot liquid all over myself. I let out a shriek of pain. Everyone turned to look at me.

“Angel,” Gabi said. “It's not what it looks like.”

“Don't bother.” I didn't need to hear her phony explanations. She already made Cole like her, told the whole class about it, and danced with him in front of me. A kiss was the obvious next step. Why would I give her the benefit of the doubt?

My whole body was shaking. I needed to calm down before my powers went off on their own. But I couldn't get my heartbeat under control. It was on turbo speed. Not even deep breaths were helping. Each one just made it worse.
Relax,
I thought as I exhaled
. Relax . . . Relax . . .
But I couldn't calm down. A nightmare was coming to life in front of my very eyes. I hated Gabi. It didn't matter that we were best friends. She was destroying me. I didn't owe her anything.

Only revenge.

Suddenly, an awful smell filled the air. Like a tuna fish sandwich someone left in the back of a car for a week.

“Double-A, you did it again. Control yourself!” Max said, waving his hand in front of his face.

Oh no. Did I accidentally turn myself into a stink bomb again? Was it the big boobs? Had I accidentally filled them with toxic waste? I took a whiff. It wasn't me. What was going on? What did I do?

Then I saw it turn the corner. A mutant guy with hollow, sunken eyes, ripped clothes, sagging skin, and a wide-open mouth, showing off his razor-sharp teeth. It was a zombie. . . .

My
nightmare
coming to life.

If I didn't do something quick, everyone was going to be zombie food. Why did I have to think of a
nightmare
? I guess it was fresh in my mind from the one I had the night before. A zombie chased me down, wanting me to grant his wish. Which was having me for lunch. But at least in the dream no one else was around. Here, the creature could have a feeding fest. And it would be all my fault. I really was a bad luck charm.

A few people shouted “What is that?” and “It's coming right for us.”

I concentrated on making the monster disappear. But just like my boobs—it wouldn't go away. And I didn't have much more time. It was fast approaching.

“Gabi,” I shrieked, “wish the zombie away.”

“It's not working. I've been trying,” she yelled back.

She couldn't undo my powers, either. “Then wish that no one was in the hallway right now, except me and that
thing
. DO IT. NOW!”

For once today, she didn't argue. In a flash everyone was gone. It was just me and the zombie. Face to face. I wasn't a fool. I ran. All those horror movies that make you think zombies are slow and can't move are wrong. This one was fast. Maybe because I dreamed him that way.

What did I know about zombies? Obviously they were fast. But they were also supposed to be dumb. It was time to find out.
Please let me have created a stupid zombie
.

Instead of trapping Gabi, I needed to trap the monster. I opened the door to an empty classroom. “Angel's in there!” I said, pointing wildly inside.

It worked. The zombie went inside looking for Angel. I slammed the door shut, locking him inside, away from me and everyone. Yes! I did it! Finally something good. The hallways were safe again. Or so I thought.

“Angel?”

“Lou!” What was he doing here? I steered him away from the zombie classroom. I didn't want him looking in and seeing what I'd been up to. I was putting a whole school in harm's way with my monster. Even Lou wouldn't do that.

“You need to go.”

“Are you all right? You seem nervous and out of breath.”

“Well. Yeah, um, wouldn't you be nervous? Talking to the devil himself?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What's really going on?”

“Nothing. I just want you gone.”

The zombie let out a roar and banged on the door. “Drama class,” I said. “They scream a lot. Gets out tension, lets them find their inner voice or something. Now will you please go? I don't want anyone in school to see you.”

“Angel . . .”

“I mean it. Go.”

He shook his head at me. “Fine, but we're going to talk later. I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, bracing myself against a locker. “Just get out of here.”

Lou studied me for a minute and his face sort of fell. He looked hurt. Then he just disappeared.

I let out a breath. One problem down. But then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. The cameraman who had been following me earlier was inside the classroom across the hall. He had his camera up to the window in the door. And he was filming!

Everything that just happened was caught on tape.

Lou disappearing. A zombie chasing me. My giant boobs. And it was all on-camera.

I needed to get it. I waved at the cameraman and walked toward him. He was going to fork over the film or I'd steal it. One way or another it was going to be mine.

When I got up to the door, he wouldn't open it. But he did keep shooting.

“Let me in!”

He shook his head no frantically and pointed like a madman with his free hand.

“I just want the tape.” I turned the knob, but it wouldn't budge. “Come on.”

“Run,” he yelled.

“Huh?”

The sound of snapping teeth made me turn around. The zombie had gotten out and was headed straight for me. With a flick of my arm I sent him sailing down the hallway. Then I took the camera guy's advice and ran.

What was I going to do? The list of problems I'd created kept growing.