MEGAN'S WISH
by Christine Morgan
https://christine-morgan.com/
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Copyright 2008 by Christine Morgan. All Rights Reserved.
Megan's Wish
"Ding-dong-bell, kitty's in the well!"
"Robbie, don't, stop it!"
"Don't stop it? Okay … here goes!"
"Stop it! Let her go!"
Tears blurred her eyes, but Megan could still see Robbie, and the squalling calico furball in his hands.
"You want me to let her go?"
Peaches yowled and spat.
"On the ground! Put her on the ground, Robbie!"
"Are you suuuure?" he asked, drawing out the final word into a taunt.
Peaches flailed with her forepaws, but those claws had been taken out by the vet. Her hind legs were gripped in Robbie's hand. His other hand was closed in the loose fur of her scruff.
Megan threw herself at Robbie as he backed around the curved stone wall of the well. Her fists and kicking feet struck out wildly. He dropped the cat. Peaches streaked across the yard without looking back.
"You're mean, Robbie, you're mean, I hate you!"
She smacked him in the face, almost by accident. He shoved her, and she tripped and fell in the grass. She banged her elbow on the well-stones, skinning it with sudden stinging pain.
"Quit hitting me, you brat," Robbie said. He snatched a big handful of her hair.
"Ow!" She lashed out and missed.
Robbie pulled Megan to her feet. His face was a furious red. His frown was horrible. He looked just like his daddy.
"Maybe I should throw you down the well. Huh? Is that what you want?"
He pushed her until her head and shoulders were bent over the drop. She could feel cool, damp air blowing up from the bottom. The water smelled moldy.
She struggled, but he was bigger, stronger. "I'll tell, Robbie, I really will, I'll tell!"
Terror had dried her tears. She could see better than she wanted to. The round hole was like a stony throat. The walls were slimy. The water at the bottom was black, with dead leaves floating on top. It was a long way down.
"Up and over!" Robbie, still holding her hair with one hand, grabbed the back of her pants with the other.
Her feet left the ground. Megan shrieked. She clutched at the sides. The top of her head hit the thick rope that held the bucket, setting it to swinging.
"Mommy!" Megan screamed, as loud as she could. "Mommy, somebody, help!"
Her voice bounced around in the damp dark. A startled frog leapt from a crevice and tumbled into the water.
"While you're down there, you can fish out all the money at the bottom," Robbie said. "Then you can give it to me and I'll leave your dumb cat alone."
"Please, Robbie, don't let me fall in!"
Megan caught hold of the rope. It was soggy, squishing in her fist. She thought it might come apart like wet paper, and first the bucket would plunge into the black, followed by her.
"You're lots bigger than a penny or even a quarter! Maybe I'll wish for a TV for my room, or that I won't have to go back to school again ever."
Robbie lifted, and Megan knew he was going to do it, really going to heave her headfirst into the well. Her scream hurt her throat and her ears.
"Jeez, what a baby." He set her down.
She collapsed to her knees, hair hanging in her face, sobbing.
"I was only kidding," Robbie said. "But if you tattle on me, my dad won't believe you anyway. And your mom does whatever he tells her to."
He laughed and walked away. Megan stayed huddled where she was.
The well was in a little park that nobody came to anymore. Not since they'd opened a new one nearer the school, a neat park with baseball diamonds and a tennis court and a playground with all sorts of fancy equipment. This one only had a weed-grown sandbox, a rusty one-swing swingset, and a crooked slide. The drinking fountain didn't work, and the bathroom was locked and covered with graffiti.
Still, this park was close to the house. Megan had always liked it before. She liked not having a bunch of other kids around, shouting and fighting. She even liked the well. At least, she had until today.
Like a picture of a wishing well from a book, with its wooden roof like a little pointy hat, and the winch on the side to raise and lower the bucket. Even the icky smell wafting up from it hadn't bothered her.
When they'd first moved in with Bob, Robbie's daddy, Megan's mother made her promise-cross-your-heart to be careful at the park. Look out for strangers, broken glass, and snakes. Most of all, be careful around the well. Mommy said it was dangerous, that the city should have taken it out or put a covering over it a long time ago.
Someone could fall in. Someone could get trapped down there, unable to climb out on the slippery rocks. Someone could drown, and die.
Megan got up, sniffling and wiping her eyes. Maybe Robbie had just been joking. Maybe he wouldn't really have dropped poor Peaches down it.
Then again, maybe he would have. He'd flushed Megan's goldfish even though it was still alive. He'd taped firecrackers to her dolls and blown them apart.
Once, when his daddy was cutting the lawn, Robbie had taken Panda-La-La and tossed it into the lawnmower's path. His daddy hadn't been able to stop in time – Megan wondered if he had even tried – and there'd been an awful munching sound and then Panda-La-La was sprayed out in a mess of black and white fluff.
If Robbie was mean enough to do that, maybe he was mean enough to hurt Peaches.
Megan leaned over and peered down the well. The bucket was still swaying. It had a few inches of nasty water in it, under a layer of leaves and dead bugs.
She put her hand in her pocket and found a nickel.
Maybe she should wish that Mommy had never met Bob. Or that her real father would come home, saying he'd made a big mistake and wanted them back.
It was only a nickel. For wishes like that, she'd need to put a hundred dollars in there. What kind of a wish could a person get for a nickel?
The black water rippled.
A face was looking up at her.
She gasped. The nickel squirted out of her grasp and landed in the grass.
The face was tinged green-black by the water. Shifting and rippling and weird, it seemed to float in the middle of a swampy cloud of hair. The eyes were large and bulgy and yellow. Like a frog's.
Megan blinked, shook her head, and rubbed her own eyes. All she could see now were dead leaves and a brighter patch of reflected sky, and herself as a wavery shadow-mirror shape against it.
She bent and rooted around until she found the nickel.
"I wish Robbie would stop bothering me," Megan said, flicking the coin off her thumbnail like she was flipping it heads-or-tails. "I wish Bob wasn't so mean, and Mommy didn't have to be married to him anymore."
The nickel spun and flashed, over and over. It plunked into the water with a faint splash. She could see it, a silvery receding glint, and then it was gone.
Nothing happened. She wasn't sure what, if anything, she had been expecting, but she realized she was holding her breath and released it in a sigh.
Her hair hurt where Robbie had yanked it. Her scraped elbow hurt, too. It was time to go home.
She trudged back to the house. It sat back behind hedges like it was hiding. The shades were all half-drawn, the windows like hooded eyes.
Mommy was in the kitchen, breading chicken to go in the oven. Megan might have gone to her and told her what Robbie had done, showed her the scrape and everything, but Bob was in the kitchen too. He sat on one of the stools at the counter, reading the newspaper.
Megan hunted around for Peaches instead, calling the
cat's name and rattling the bag of dry cat food in the laundry room off the garage. Peaches didn't come. Robbie had really scared her, this time.
As she climbed to the second floor, she saw her door standing open. She was sure she'd closed it. But maybe she hadn't shut it all the way, maybe Peaches had gone in there and was way back in the closet or something.
She got two steps inside and stopped short with her mouth hanging open.
Her room had been clean when she'd gone out to play. Now toys were everywhere, the books were pulled off the shelves, and the puzzle she'd been working on was all over the floor.
Robbie!
Panda-La-La's replacement, Floppy Dog, usually sat on her pillow. But Floppy Dog was nowhere to be found.
She rushed to the window, lifting the shade, and was just in time to see Robbie's baseball cap over the hedge. Headed for the park.
With a small, frustrated cry, she dashed back down the stairs.
"Quit that stomping around!"
Bob's bellow made her jump, but she couldn't stop to apologize. Not if she was going to save Floppy Dog. She ran outside.
It was almost dinnertime and the light was fading from the sky. The shadows grew long and creepy in the park.
"Robbie?" she called. "Give me back Floppy Dog. That's not funny."
He