The Seventh Wish (17 page)

I wonder if Abby will think about lying to me and hurting Mom and Dad when she gets to that step. I hope so. Maybe that's mean, but I do.

The truth is, I don't feel serene about any of this. But I look down at the card again.

Courage to change the things I can change; and wisdom to know the difference.

I'm not sure this prayer was meant for kids. I can't think of a single thing I can change about this situation. I guess I can change my own stuff. I can keep working toward my dress. I can cheer for Drew when he's being the lake monster at basketball games, and I can help Dasha with her classes. But that doesn't do anything to fix the biggest problem of all.

I put the card in my desk drawer and get ready for bed.

I can't stop thinking about the fish.

I haven't been wishing or even trying to wish since Drew's and Dasha's wishes went kind of wrong. But this is different.

I didn't understand what was happening to Abby this winter. I didn't tell Mom and Dad about the bruises on her arm or the waxed paper bag that wasn't from the donut bakery.

I didn't know.

But now I do. Maybe, if I wish one more wish—a careful one—I can do something to help. Could it really do much harm?

The wishes haven't been perfect, but they haven't been total disasters either. Mom loves her new job. Drew's doing okay even though he has to be the lake monster mascot. I think he's starting to look forward to the first game. Dasha's learning English faster than ever, now that she's in regular classes and we do homework together. So her wish wasn't a total mess.

Even Bobby O'Sullivan's not so bad. He's been too busy helping me tutor Dasha in English and Social Studies to draw note-dragons and write love apps.

Maybe one more wish wouldn't be so dangerous.

And one more wish is all I need.

I fall asleep thinking about how to say it. I scribble ideas in my notebook every time I have a free minute in class on Monday and while I'm working on English with Dasha at lunch. I whisper the words to myself while I'm walking out to the lake with Drew and Mrs. McNeill after school.

The frozen surface is covered in slush now, and our boots leave a trail of dark puddles. Water splashes all over when we drill our holes in the ice, and I wonder how many fishing days we have left. It doesn't matter. I only need to catch the fish one more time.

I drop my line in the water, and when the tug comes, I'm ready. No mumbling or casually worded wishes this time. I'm getting this one right.

I wait for the raspy voice—
Release me, and I will grant your wish
—and I say it:

Let Mom and Dad's health insurance pay for Abby's full month of treatment at Forest Hills, and let her be healthy when she comes home.

I toss the fish back. It flicks its tail in the March sunlight and glimmers before it disappears.

Chapter 16

The Lake Monster Disco

The next day, Dasha, Catherine, and I stay after school so we can cheer for Drew at his basketball game. Catherine sits down on the bleachers and makes room for her flour baby beside her. It's kind of grungy and has a duct tape diaper holding it together since it fell off Catherine's mom's car.

“How's Meredith hanging in there?” I ask.

“She's lost some weight, but I think I'll still pass,” Catherine says. “She's tougher with the duct tape. She looks kind of rugged with her scars, don't you think? Like a biker baby.”

I laugh, then look around the bleachers to see who else is here. I know Drew's parents are working—I'm not sure how excited his dad would be about this anyway—but Mrs. McNeill is here with a big sign she made. There's a lake monster with “Go, Lakeside Champs!” in a speech bubble.
“Doing my part to support the team,” she calls when she sees me. “And its reluctant mascot too.”

“Charlie! Charlie!” I recognize Bobby's voice booming across the gym even before I see him, standing on his orange-sneaker tiptoes, searching the crowd.

Dasha waves to him, and his whole face lights up.

“Aw, did you have to do that?” I say. “I was hoping for one Bobby-free afternoon.”

“He is not so bad,” Dasha says. “In coding club, he's funny and helps people a lot. He only acts strange around you.”

When she says that, I have a flash of sympathy for Bobby. Things were probably better for him before I wish-fished him in love with me. So I wave too.

Bobby practically skips up the bleachers. Thankfully, Dasha and Catherine are on either side of me, so he sits by Dasha.

“I didn't know you liked basketball!” Bobby says, leaning across Dasha to talk to me. “Do you come to all the games? Because I can always come to the games, and we can sit together!”

“I came to cheer for Drew,” I tell him. “He's the lake monster mascot.”

Bobby nods seriously. “I'll cheer for him too. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

We don't actually see Drew until the first half is over and he leads the cheerleaders out of the locker room for the halftime performance. His costume is so big it looks like he
got swallowed by a giant stuffed animal. His skinny legs are sticking out the bottom with the green tights he hates, and he has huge lake monster flippers on over his shoes, so he has to walk funny or he'll step on his big, webbed toes.

Drew leads the cheerleaders to the center of the court and then turns to face the crowd in the bleachers. “Gimme a C!” he says, without much enthusiasm.

“C!” We all shout back. Bobby is even louder than I am. That guy is dedicated.

“Gimme an H!” Drew calls.

“H!” we holler.

We spell out CHAMPS, and then the cheerleaders do a routine with jumps and cartwheels and a whole lot of whooping. While they're tumbling, Drew is off to the side, dancing a little and giving little kids high fives. He actually looks like he's having some fun.

Then the music starts, and the cheerleaders start a dance routine they've been practicing. Drew looks like he doesn't know what to do, but then he starts dancing too.

“Well, look at that,” his nana whispers.

“He's good!” Catherine says.

He is. He tries to do the dance the cheerleaders are doing for a while, but then he breaks into his own routine, which looks like a mix of the electric slide, some pointy-arm disco moves, and swimming. No one's paying any attention to the cheerleaders anymore because Drew is so funny. The more people laugh and cheer, the more he hams
it up. When he starts moonwalking on his giant lake monster feet, everybody gives him a standing ovation.

“Great job, Charlie's friend!” Bobby hollers over the crowd, and grins at me.

The cheerleaders head for the sidelines, but Drew-Champ stays out on the court, even after the basketball players start to come back out. One of the players passes a ball to another player. Drew-Champ intercepts it, dribbling with his big green paw toward the basket.

He keeps catching the ball and traveling—I think that's what it's called when you move without dribbling, which is illegal—but nobody cares or realizes that Drew plays this way even when he's not wearing a big fluffy costume. They think it's part of the act, and it's so, so funny.

Finally, Drew-Champ shoots and misses and throws a little monster-tantrum out on the court. A ref comes up to him—probably hoping to finally get the second half of the game started again—and Drew-Champ pantomimes a big huge argument with the ref.

“Oh dear.” Mrs. McNeill is laughing so hard she can barely talk, but she manages to say, “I hope he doesn't get himself in too much trouble.”

The ref is laughing, but you can also tell he really wants the game to start again and doesn't know how to make that happen. What do you do when a great big monster in skinny green tights won't get off your basketball court?

You call for help, I guess. The ref waves at the
sidelines, and two more refs start to head out with the coaches. I have a moment of uh-oh panic in my stomach, but Drew-Champ apparently sees them coming and must know the party's over. He throws his green arms up in the air one more time, leaves the first ref, runs to center court, waves at the audience with both paws—we're all cheering like crazy, waving back at him—and runs out the door.

Then they go back to playing basketball.

“Well,” Mrs. McNeill says. “That sure was something.”

Dasha, Catherine, and I are still laughing when the game ends and we head out to the hallway. Bobby follows us like a stray puppy until his little brother finds him and tugs on his sleeve. “Come on! Mom's waiting outside.”

Bobby looks at me. “Can I call you later?”

“Not tonight, okay?” I say. “I've got a ton of homework.” I can't help thinking about how long high school is going to be if this wish doesn't wear off. What's this guy going to do when prom rolls around?

“There's Drew!” Catherine points down the hall. He's back in his regular clothes.

“Nice job, Champ,” I say when we catch up to him.

He grins. “Thanks. It was more fun than I thought it was gonna be.”

“I'd give a million dollars to have that on video,” I say.

Drew's whole face drops. “Aw, crud. I never thought of that. Do you think—”

“I think that you were spectacular,” his nana says. “And you should enjoy the moment. Your fans are waiting.” She points down the hall, where a group of seventh graders are lined up, chanting, “Champ! Champ! Champ! Wooooo!”

While Drew leaves to sign autographs—seriously, they all want his autograph—Dasha, Catherine, and I head for the door. We're halfway through the lobby when Catherine realizes she left Meredith back on the bleachers, so she goes running back to find her.

Dasha and I wait by the sports all-star display and practice some of our dance steps. At one point, we turn so we're dancing toward the trophies. I look into the glass case, and all of a sudden, I can't breathe.

I stop dancing.

Abby is staring out at me from her team photo behind the soccer state championship trophy. Seeing her there, so healthy and strong and happy, makes me feel like someone punched me. I forgot for a little while today. I really did. But now the awfulness is back. This weekend, we'll go to Forest Hills to see the other Abby. The drug addict. Hopefully, my wish will work, and she'll get the full treatment she needs to be better. But I'm starting wonder if life will ever feel the same again.

Chapter 17

Gratitude and Boogers

Mom's on the phone when I get home from Drew's game. She points to the Crock-Pot, so I get myself some soup and sit down at the table. Denver curls up on the floor and flops his head on my foot. He hates soup nights. Nobody drops soup on the floor like they do french fries.

My phone buzzes with a text, and when I look down, I see it's a short one:

Catherine:
Uh-oh.

Then there's a link to an online video-sharing site. When I click it, there's Drew, dancing across the gym with his lake monster disco moves. He's going to flip when he sees this. I look to see if I can tell who recorded and shared it because maybe we can get the person to take it down before
anybody else sees it. But then I notice it's already gotten two hundred twenty-nine views. In less than an hour.

Uh-oh is right.

“Charlie, do you have a pen?” Mom calls from the counter. I get her one from my backpack, and she writes something while she talks at the person on the phone. “Okay . . . so you need the policy number and then we should be all set?” Mom pauses, listening. “Great. Thank you.” She ends the call, puts her phone down, looks up at the ceiling, and whispers it again. “Thank you.”

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Insurance company. Dr. Porter was able to convince them to keep Abby in treatment for a full month.”

“That was fast,” I say. My fish was really on top of this one.

“Fast compared to what?”