The Wish Stealers (3 page)

Griffin stood in shock.
A Wish Stealer
. She pulled a penny from its slot. “STOP” was written on its label.
Stop what?
she wondered. Her head pounded. Mariah Weatherby Schmidt had tricked her! Furiously she stuffed the box of pennies into the side pocket of her guitar case, and clenched Mariah’s letter in her hands.

Griffin’s mom clunked into the basement. “The tornado is getting closer. Are you okay?”

“I …,” said Griffin, staring at her mom and her big belly.

“Griff, what’s in your hand?”

Mariah’s letter flopped like a limp fish in her palm. “Uhh, a letter I was writing to …” She gulped. “Grandma.” Just as she said the word “grandma,” a bolt of lightning struck the house.

Penny for your thoughts,
nickel for your dreams.

T
he next morning rain dribbled outside the Penshines’ kitchen. Dr. Penshine set three hot blueberry pancakes on Griffin’s plate and three on Griffin’s dad’s plate. “Pancakes to celebrate the first day of school,” said Dr. Penshine.

“You can say that again!” said Griffin’s dad, reading the morning paper before heading to Eastern Kansas University, where he taught law. “It says here that Dadesville hasn’t experienced such erratic weather in the last hundred years. One minute it’s a summer day; the next minute a tornado nearly destroys the town.”

“I can’t believe our house was struck by lightning! Thank goodness you weren’t near water or on the phone, Griff!” said Dr. Penshine.

Griffin chewed the mountain of pancakes and nodded with her mouth full. Last night, when the announcer on the portable radio had said the tornado had diverted its course and she was allowed upstairs, she hid the box of pennies under her bed. Would none of her good wishes come true? Could she really ruin other people’s wishes if she told them about the pennies? she wondered. She knew her dad wished for wars to end and to get tenure. Griffin shook her head. She believed in wishes, but not in Wish Stealers. Mariah had to be totally bonkers, a senile old lady,
ancient
, like her mom had said. Griffin refused to believe in curses. There was no way a box of Indian Head pennies could hurt her.

She decided to just enjoy her mom’s blueberry pancakes.

“Griff, I forgot to tell you. When you were upstairs getting dressed, the dentist called. It turns out that she is going to have to pull your back molars for braces. There’s an opening next week.”

The pancakes morphed into a lumpy ball in her throat. Wasn’t that one of her wishes?
I wish the dentist will not have to pull my two back molars for braces.

If you are a Wish Stealer, none of your good wishes will come true
blasted through her head.

Probably just a coincidence,
Griffin reassured herself, but she lost her appetite anyway.

Coincidence … or …
COIN-incidence?

G
riffin slid into the car. Charlemagne had acted strangely all morning, afraid to come out of his shell. Griffin thought it had to be the weather. She refused to think about Mariah or the curse. After all, it was the first day of school. She and her best friend, Libby, had planned their outfits a week before and had promised to wear their gold heart best-friends-forever necklaces today.

She wore her new canvas Converse sneakers that she’d spent all summer decorating with permanent colored pens. One side of each sneaker was blue, and the other side sported purple paisleys. “Go Green” was written on the white rubber rim. A peace sign swirled on the tops. She’d even sat on
her bedroom floor coloring her shoelaces in tiny multicolored stripes. That had left little marks like an outlined centipede on her hardwood floor that she thought looked supercool (a feeling her mom didn’t share).

Dr. Penshine parked the car in front of Griffin’s new school and read, “George Washington LeGrange Middle School. You’re growing up so fast, Griff.” Her mom’s eyes moistened.

“I love you, Mom,” said Griffin, hugging her. Lately her mom cried over Hallmark card commercials, a dead goldfish, and every time someone mentioned that the planet Pluto had gotten demoted.

“Pregnancy hormones,” explained Griffin’s dad each week. He also stocked the freezer with Häagen-Dazs mint chip and butter pecan ice cream for Dr. Penshine’s cravings, which made Griffin love it even more that her mom was pregnant.

“Have a great day!” called her mom.

Griffin dashed toward the school lobby, where she planned to meet Libby. Giddy in her raincoat, with her hood flying off, she splashed through the puddles, forgetting all about stolen wishes. Looking up at the rain, she hoped each and every drop would either turn to chocolate or grant a year of good luck for the person it fell on.

Griffin did not notice Mariah across the street, drenched in her long black raincoat, staring at her like a waiting crow. An evil smile curled on Mariah’s cracked lips. Through the cold, misty rain Mariah crept closer to the school.

Beware the person with
the Buddha smile and snake’s heart.

—Chinese proverb

M
ariah pounced across the flooding street. Her shoes slapped over the sidewalk, and her cold palm pushed open the school doors. Inside the school lobby she smoothed her hair and opened her black bag. After pulling out a delicate flowered scarf, she tied it over her hair, removed her black coat, and pinned a bright red flower, a lily, the same color as Griffin’s hair, onto her dress. Mariah chanted under her breath, “Stars, hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.” She cackled in the hallway and slithered toward the front office.

Locker doors slammed, and the buzz of students swarmed
through the polished halls. So many kids jammed the corridors that it was hard to walk and not get smacked by a giant backpack or an oncoming slew of kids. Griffin and Libby tried to push their way toward room 13, first period English class. Middle school was nothing like fifth grade, where students stayed in one classroom.

“Come on, Libbs,” said Griffin.

“I’m trying!” said Libby when some towering eighth graders cut in front of her.

Libby had a cute upturned nose, warm brown eyes, and shoulder-length blond curls that bobbed as she walked. Today she wore a superbright pink, yellow, and green striped sweater that looked like it spent its free time keeping ships from crashing into the shore.

“Room 13,” said Griffin, reading her schedule and leading Libby toward the opposite side of the school building. Libby had no sense of direction, loved garlic mashed potatoes, and dreamed of being a famous artist like Frida Kahlo one day. She loved to tape pictures from magazines all over her bedroom wall and make origami out of silver bubble gum wrappers. Most of all she loved hanging around Griffin’s grandma, who was a painter and gave them lessons on the weekends when she felt well enough.

Griffin, on the other hand, wanted to be a rocket scien
tist or a rock star. She was also very proud of her sneakers. They entered the classroom and grabbed two desks toward the front. Both of their BFF heart necklaces glowed from the raindrops that had fallen on them.

Just as Griffin sat in the seat, “Griffin Penshine, Griffin Penshine, please come downstairs to the front office” blasted over the loudspeaker.

“Huh?” said Griffin. “That’s weird. Did I forget something? Be right back. Can you save my seat?” For a moment a strange feeling crept over Griffin.
Could this have anything to do with Mariah?
she thought. But she shook her head and told herself she was being silly.

“Sure,” said Libby.

Griffin powered through the emptying halls to the front office.

The strong scent of lilies wafted through the stairwell. Like cloying perfume or a dying bouquet in a funeral home, the smell shot up Griffin’s nose and gave her a headache. Griffin walked into the office.

Sitting behind the administrator’s desk stacked with unopened mail, a jolly woman with a ruddy face and a booming voice said, “You must be Griffin Penshine.”

“Yes,” said Griffin.

“I’m Mrs. Davis, and you have the nicest, sweetest grandma in the whole world,” she said.

“How do you know?” Griffin asked.

“She just came in from that nasty rain to give you something she forgot—a first-day-of-school gift! Said she’d been waiting
years
to give it to you. Isn’t that so sweet?” said Mrs. Davis, leaning her weight over her desk and handing a small box to Griffin.