One Wish Away (26 page)

“You wouldn't listen.”

“Why in heaven's name should we listen to you, Lyra?” Morgan huffs and places his hands above the doorframe, looking down at me with wide, fearful eyes.

Because I'm right
, doesn't seem like the answer he's going for. So I skirt the question.

“At least the weight of the decision isn't only on your shoulders anymore.” It comes out in a whisper.

Morgan's eyes close and his forehead falls against the doorframe. Without looking at me he says, “There's that I guess.” From under his forearm, his eyes find mine. “I can't protect you. The video has already leaked to major news channels. Five minutes ago I got off the phone with the president.”

I figure it doesn't pay to ask what he and the president talked about so I go for something a little safer. “What's going to happen to Bennett?” I ask.

Morgan shrugs and looks over his shoulder as an entourage of black vehicles enter the lot, and men and women in black suits emerge.

“FBI is here,” Morgan mumbles. He sighs and stands tall, straightening his suit so it rests perfectly. “Buckle up. No one in the world has any idea what will happen next.” With that he leaves my side and moves to introduce himself to one of the suits.

“Don't I get a lawyer or something?” I hear Darren yell over the commotion in the parking lot. I want to tell the cops to leave him alone. This was my idea. But before I can say anything, Secretary Morgan gestures for Officer Derek to stop the interrogation. The cop slams the door in Darren's face and proceeds to do the same with mine.

I rest my head on the back of the seat. Through the rearview mirror I see Secretary Morgan speaking with the FBI. My breath catches when Dad and Aunt Steph emerge from a group of cops. I sit a little straighter, straining my eyes to pick up every move of their lips.

Aunt Stephanie looks lost. She's brushing her frizzy hair out of her face every second and wrapping her sweater tighter around her shoulders. At first the FBI guy tries to force her away but she stands her ground, her lips clamped tight.

Dad turns to face the car I'm in and I duck. I guess I expected him to rush over and tell me everything would be okay, but he's not a good liar.

The worst part is he looks upset. Not confused, or sad, or lost. Mad.

There is a very real possibility that because of me, the Cricket Project will no longer exist. That in order to appease the world, the United States will claim it was an exploratory project that will no longer be used due to unforeseen complications.

And if that's the case, his own daughter destroyed his dream.

Just when I'm about to turn my brain off and pass out, Iris leaps out of her car and sprints to Dad's side. Relief floods through me. She's really alive. Though, of course she would be because we unwished the hotel bombings, but seeing her makes it real.

Immediately she's pointing her finger and talking with her hands. Each word that jumps between my father and her is more forceful than the last. Finally, my father flails an arm in my direction and Iris sprints over to the car, high heels and all. When she's a few feet away, Officer Derek steps in front of her, hand raised. Iris blows past him and rips open the car door. She throws herself in my arms, trembling right along with me.

“I saw the video,” she whispers in my hair. “You're crazy, you know that right?” She gives me another squeeze.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” I manage between my sharp intakes of breath.

“Of course I'm okay.” She gingerly brushes my hair off my face, and assesses my wounds. “I wish you would have talked to me about this before you did it.” Her lower lip tucks under her teeth, the first sign of nerves I've ever seen from her.

“You weren't here. I couldn't wait,” I whisper.

Iris takes a deep breath and grabs both of my shoulders. “Now that it's done, don't think about it. This is our reality now. One that
you
created.” She gives me a small shake so I look into her eyes. She doesn't say she agrees with my choice to reveal the project. She doesn't tell me everything will be all right.

But she's here.

Tears fall from my eyes. The moisture mixed with blood seeps onto Iris' shirt when she pulls me in for another hug, rocking me until Officer Derek pulls her away. While he's occupied with a fuming Iris, Aunt Steph takes her place, both hands resting on my knees. For a minute we search each other's eyes, all the commotion melting into the background. There's disappointment, confusion, loss, fear…love. With each passing second my throat tightens. She's always been there for me whether I wanted her or not, and how did I repay her?

“Dr. Altair, you're going to have to move. We're transporting the suspects to FBI headquarters,” a man in a black suit informs my aunt. With a nod she steps back. I should apologize, for hurting her. For not listening. But the words stay in my head.

As I watch her walk away, I catch a glimpse of Darren in the backseat of his car.

I swallow hard, wondering if this will be the last time I see him. Hoping—more than anything I hope, he will be allowed to return to his normal life. That he'll be there for his sisters and his parents.

Darren brushes his dark hair out of his eyes. He exhales onto the window and draws a heart in the condensation. I will myself not to cry so I can keep looking at it. I imprint the image in my mind, praying it will stay there no matter what happens over the next few hours, days, months. The vision of Darren's dark eyes, looking at me from within his heart on the window.

And as his begins to melt, so does mine.

I turn to face forward in my seat. I close my eyes and pretend to trace my finger over Darren's. In the rearview mirror I spot the squad cars, officers, FBI, and prominently in front of them are Morgan, Iris, Aunt Steph and my father, all watching my departure. I can't help but wonder if this is the last time I'll see my school. If it's the last time I'll see anything but a cold, dark cell. Maybe they'll put me next to Carl.

The car takes a left and the hairs on the back of my neck jump to attention. By the time we've made another two lefts and stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse, my panic has returned full force.

The cop gets out of the vehicle and walks around to my door. After its open, he takes two steps back and another man appears, looming over my shoulder.

“You've gotten yourself into quite a bind, haven't you, Lyra?”

I instantly recognize his voice. The man crosses his arms and rests against the open door, looking completely comfortable.

My eyes dart around the lot. My wrists are cuffed and the
cop
just invited this guy to talk to me. I swallow, try to breathe.

“You can calm down,” the man says. “Things have changed.”

Even though I couldn't see much last night, I
know
this is the guy who tried to kill me.

The man clears his throat. “We knew something was going on at SEAD. Didn't know all the details, but speculated most of it. Too bad everyone knows now.” He pulls his phone out and I catch a glimpse of my face on the screen. “Complicates things a bit.” His knees crack as he bends down so his face is level with mine. Dark eyes, short hair. A business man, prim and proper. Young. Like, just-out-of-college young.

“Good move, Ms. Altair,” he whispers. “Good move.” He leans in and a heavy scent of cologne fills my nose. “I can't wait to see what happens next.”

“Who are you?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking.

He leans back and a borderline-genuine smile makes him look almost kind.

“I can't tell you that.” He stands and taps the door twice. “But you'll know when the time's right.” He tilts his head to me and then steps away from the door.

“As you get deeper and deeper into this mess, keep something in mind.” His eyes hone in on mine. “The lens through which we see things is only so wide.”

He slams the door and walks around the car. The cop is gone. I try the handle, but I'm locked in.

I get on my knees and strain my neck to watch him stalk across the vacant lot, my mind reeling with his words.

Then the man stops next to his vehicle and gives me a final wave before getting inside.

With a turn of the key, the red Porsche's engine comes to life.

I have a confession to make.

One Wish Away is the most frustrating book I've written to date.

There are too many versions of this tale to possibly count them all. Lyra's mother wasn't even in the story until the fifth version. Our mysterious man, who leaves us with his warning, didn't really exist till the seventh version. Or was it the eighth?

Ah, heck.

But I have another confession to make.

I still love this story.

I love this story, and am so
excited
about it, because it took a village to get it right. And even though I'm probably going to leave some folks out, I'll try my best to thank everyone who made this book possible.

First, I have to thank two of my best friends, Katie and Jen. The idea for this story took hold when Jen and I visited Katie in Maine. When I wished for just
one more day
with them. Unfortunately, those sorts of wishes are only possible in fiction (unless you're willing to use another vacation day and pay a $200 exchange fee for the flight). Thank you both for being two of the best friends a girl could ask for.

There are so many wonderful people who read countless versions of this story, each one making it just that much better than the last. Special thanks to my Beta Book Peep Ladies. Your honest critiques are vital to my work and your friendship is vital to my sanity. To all the others who read early versions of One Wish Away, thank you. Hopefully you like all the changes. Sara Zarr, (yes,
the
Sara Zarr, author of
Story of a Girl
) you probably don't remember critiquing an early version of One Wish Away at the SCBWI Wisconsin Conference, but your excitement about my work gave me the courage to continue pursing my writing dreams. And kept Lyra's story from going in the Recycling Bin on my desktop.

Jamie Bodnar Drowley, thank you for finding One Wish Away the perfect home with Bloomsbury Spark. To my Sparkies and Inklings, thanks for welcoming me into your literary families. Meredith Rich, you molded the story brilliantly. You understood what I was trying to do with Lyra's tale from the start and helped me express it. All those at Bloomsbury Spark, thanks for the support. The cover is
amazing
!

Thanks to my family and friends. Special thanks to my roommates, Jenny (Sister) and Jess (Cousin) for putting up with the frequent updates on what's going on in Kelley Lynn's world and understanding that “I'll be working late” means I'm heading to the office (Starbucks) and will be there till closing.

Lastly, thank you reader. I hope Lyra's story made you think. Is the true victory in achieving your dream…or the journey to get there? I can honestly say I can't wait to hear what you have to say about this book.

The struggle it took to get it in your hands was worth every second.

Eventually the day came when the voices in Kelley Lynn's head were more insistent then her engineering professor's. So instead of turning to her Thermodynamics book, Kelley brought up a blank page on her computer screen and wrote. Somewhere along the way she became a Young Adult author.

Kelley was born and raised a midwestern girl. She fills her free time with softball, soccer and volleyball. (Though you probably don't want her on your volleyball team.) She occasionally makes guest appearances as a female vocalist for area bands.

ONE WISH AWAY is Kelley's third published book. ROAD TO SOMEWHERE, a YA contemporary was published in 2014 (Bloomsbury Spark), and FRACTION OF STONE, a YA Fantasy, was published in March 2013 (Sapphire Star Publishing). You can find Kelley hanging out at her blog, titled in her name, and her Facebook author page. She loves to receive reactions to her work,
[email protected]
. Kelley is a member of the Society of Children's Books Writers and Illustrators.

Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney

Copyright © 2014 by Kelley Lynn

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means, (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

First published in November 2014
by Bloomsbury Spark, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
www.bloomsbury.com