The Wishmakers

  “I let him go,” she said.

  “You did what?” Ridge and I shouted together.

  “I gave him back his genie jar and let him go,” Tina said, finally rising to her feet. “You’re not the only one with a quest, Ace.”

  “So you thought you could save Jathon’s life by letting him go?” I asked. “He’s not even the right person!”

  “But his dad is,” said Tina. “And Thackary has a better chance of surviving with his Wishmaker son. I can’t let him die out there.”

  “And I can’t let him succeed!” I shouted. We all had our quests. And it seemed none of us could succeed without the other two destroying the world. “So now what? You’re on Thackary’s side?”

  “Maybe I should be,” she answered.

  Tina and I glared at each other, and I was thinking about having that epic shark-versus-wolf throwdown to prove my point.

  Ridge stepped up, patting me on the shoulder. “On a positive note,” the genie said, “your left arm grew back!”

  I looked down at my newly regrown appendage. That was good news. In the adrenaline of waking up to find Jathon escaped, I hadn’t even noticed that I was whole again.

  “Are you trying to destroy the world?” I shouted, grateful I had two arms to gesture at Tina.

  “I’m trying to save it!” she yelled back. “I’m trying to do what the Universe told me. I thought you’d understand!”

  “How are we supposed to be a team if you do things behind my back?”

  “Maybe we’re not supposed to be a team, Ace,” said Tina. “Maybe I should have left with Jathon.”

  “Maybe it’s not too late,” I spat.

  We stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. Then Tina moved abruptly. Vale boosted her and she leaped up, catching the edge of the hole in the roof and climbing out of the railway car.

  “Come on, Tina,” I said. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

  On the roof, Tina produced her genie jar and ordered Vale into it, only to remove her a second later so they were both successfully on top of the car.

  “You’re really leaving us?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “You helped me realize something,” Tina answered. “I can’t save Thackary’s life if I’m not with him.”

  I felt the sting of betrayal. “Tina!” I shouted, but the girl and her genie were gone.

  I stood in rigid disbelief. I couldn’t believe Tina would just leave us like that.

  “I can’t believe Tina would just leave us like that,” Ridge said, falling onto the mattress like he was ready to give up entirely.

  “It’s all right,” I said, though my insides were starting to panic at the thought of being on our own. “We’ll get along fine without those two.”

  And we did. But it wasn’t easy.

  It took Ridge and me almost an hour just to get out of the boxcar. I was too stubborn to make a wish after I had watched Tina escape with such ease.

  First, Ridge boosted me up and I tried to pull him out. When that didn’t work, I boosted him up and he tried to pull me out. Neither was strong enough to lift the other, so I had him transform into a shark and dangle his tail through the hole for me to grab on to. Problem was, once he became a shark, I had to lie on my stomach on the floor of the boxcar, so I couldn’t even come close to reaching his tail.

  Then we finally realized that the boxcar had a door.

  By the time we figured out how to unlatch the door, the train was conveniently slowing down as it passed through a town.

  Ridge and I jumped off at the same time, tumbling side by side so we wouldn’t snap our tether. The landing was much more painful than we thought it would be and both of us sat on the ground, rubbing our bruised elbows and knees for about a half hour.

  We wandered down a small street and saw a woman on the sidewalk. Since I had no idea where we were or which direction we needed to go, I decided to talk to the stranger.

  “Hello,” I said, stopping in her path. As soon as I said the word, I felt my rolled-up sleeves grow an inch longer. My baggy sleeves and discolored eye, together with my backward pants, made me wonder if the woman was nervous to be stopped by me. I decided to put her at ease by asking a very basic question. “Can you tell me what state we are in?”

  The woman looked at us like we were crazy, but the sincere looks on our faces must have persuaded her to answer. “California.”

  Ridge and I gave a quick high five to celebrate the fact that the train had taken us so far in the right direction. At the sound of our hands clapping, my left shoelace came untied.

  “And could you point us the way to Super-Fun-Happy Place?” Ridge asked. “We need to eat some green cotton candy.”

  The woman gave us some useful directions to a bus station where we could catch a ride to the amusement park. By the time we arrived there, the bus we needed was ten minutes from departing.

  “Can you think of any way to get on that bus without wishing?” I asked, dreading the thought of another consequence.

  Ridge glanced left and right. “Sneak on,” he whispered, tiptoeing backward toward the bus. In the process, he bumped into a metal garbage can and sent it clattering to the concrete. In trying to recover, he staggered sideways, knocking over a display rack of newspapers.

  “You are the least sneaky person in the world,” I said, realizing that the only way to get on that vehicle was to wish it. But I was going to be smart about it. The more indirect my wish, the gentler the consequence would be.

  Ridge was picking up the newspapers when I noticed a middle-aged couple, clearly bound for Super-Fun-Happy Place with their fanny packs and visors, taking a selfie in front of the bus. I grinned, turning so Ridge would be sure to hear me clearly.

  “I wish that couple thought we were their kids,” I said. To avoid a misinterpretation from the Universe, I pointed to the couple beside the bus.

  “Good plan,” Ridge said, as my hourglass watch extended. “If you want them to think we are their sons, then you’ll have to wear a helmet for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “What kind of helmet?” I asked.

  “A medieval knight’s helmet.”

  “Seriously? Cool!” I was going to look fearsome! This was the easiest consequence so far. “Bazang,” I said without hesitation.

  No sooner had my watch closed than I felt the power of the Universe slipping a knight’s helmet into place, causing my neck to wobble suddenly.

  “Whoa!” I shouted, my voice echoing within the metal mask. “This thing is superheavy!”

  “Eight pounds,” Ridge answered. “That’s like wearing a gallon of milk on your head.”

  “How do you know how heavy the helmet is?” I asked. He hadn’t even touched it.

  “The Universe told me when you wished for it,” he answered.

  “Why didn’t you mention it?” I said. “I can barely keep my head up!”

  “You didn’t ask,” Ridge said. “You usually ask a bunch of questions to clarify the consequence, but you just accepted this one right away.”

  “That’s because I thought it would look cool,” I said, grunting. “I can’t see a thing through these tiny little eyeholes.”

  Suddenly, the woman who had been taking a selfie came racing across the station. “Ace!” she cried. “Ridge!” I was surprised that the Universe had given her our names. But then, what kind of mother would she be if she didn’t know what to call her own kids?

  “Hi, Mom,” I said. I knew it was only pretend, but saying those words caused a little stir in my chest. I wondered if I would ever say that phrase to the person it was meant for.

  “What are you two doing?” she asked. By now, her husband had arrived on the scene, a bit of unsmeared sunscreen on his earlobe. Clearly, they were ready for the hot California sun, despite the fact that Super-Fun-Happy Place was still a bus ride away.

  “Where are your tickets, boys?” Dad asked. Neither of them seemed bothered by the fact that I was wearing a helmet from the Dark Ages. r />
  I glanced at Ridge through the narrow eyeholes. “Tickets?” Then I shrugged in what I hoped was an endearing way. My new dad was not impressed. Mom shot him a look and he jogged back to the booth to purchase two more tickets.

  “Look at you both!” said Mom, her tone disapproving. I thought she might comment on my knight’s helmet, but instead, she said, “How did you get so filthy?” The woman licked her thumb and used it to wipe some of the coal dust off Ridge’s face. “You can’t go wandering off like that. This vacation is for your father. He’s been under a lot of stress at work, and I expect my boys not to add to it.”

  “Yes, Mommy dear,” Ridge said. She turned around to check her husband’s progress with the tickets.

  “Mommy dear?” I whispered. “You’re like the embarrassing little brother that I don’t know if I have.”

  “Actually, they probably think we’re twins,” Ridge said.

  “How is that possible?” I rolled up my extralong sleeve and put my arm next to his, pointing out the color difference of our skin.

  Ridge shrugged. “Clearly, you were adopted,” he muttered as Dad returned. The excitement I had seen in the selfie had faded to weariness as he handed us our bus tickets. I’ll admit, I felt a little bad about taking his money and burdening his vacation. But this was about saving the world.

  And eating cotton candy.

  Chapter 23

  Having fake parents was working out even better than I had hoped. After the bus ride, they bought us lunch at a little café outside the park. Conversation was a bit awkward, since we were practically strangers. But the magic of the Universe had made us a family. And being in a family meant getting a lunch that wasn’t a smashed peanut butter sandwich.

  On the downside, my new helmet made it terribly difficult to eat. With a full metal face mask, it was difficult to slide the food into my mouth. Believe me, I had tried to take it off, but the Universe had fused the helmet to the top of my head and no amount of prying could work it loose.

  When we were done eating, it was time to head into the park. Apparently, passes to Super-Fun-Happy Place are rather expensive. I’m going by what Ridge told me, since I couldn’t read any of the signs near the entrance. But as it was, I was once again grateful to have a stressed-out dad to pay for me.

  I had seen Super-Fun-Happy Place in movies, so I thought I knew what to expect. But the bright spread of adventure seemed so much bigger as I saw it with my own discolored eye.

  There were roller coasters and spinning rides, splash pads and arcade games. Vendors passed by with dripping Popsicles and candied nuts. The whole place smelled like sugar . . . with just a hint of dried vomit.

  I looked at Ridge, pleased to see that I wasn’t the only one gawking at this awesome place. “We’ve got to find the cotton candy guy,” I said, remembering the real reason we had come. “And keep an eye out for Thackary and Jathon.”

  Before Ridge could answer, someone stepped between us, taking us both by an arm. It was our dad. Now that we had arrived, I’d forgotten all about our pseudoparents.

  “Thanks for everything . . . Dad,” I said. I looked at Ridge, slightly puzzled by the man’s persistence at parenting. “When does my wish end?” I asked the genie.

  Ridge’s eyes went wide. “Umm. You didn’t specify,” he said.

  “What are you saying?” I cried. But I was afraid I knew exactly what he was saying. “They’re going to be our parents forever?”

  It was Dad who answered. “That’s generally how it works, son.” He bent low, his face between mine and Ridge’s. “Now, there are a lot of people here. I need you to stay close. You know how your mother is with crowds.”

  This couldn’t be happening! My wish for parents was supposed to be temporary. It was intended to get us into the park, not tie us down once we arrived. How were we going to find the cotton candy man and capture Thackary Anderthon if Mom and Dad were holding our hands?

  This had to end now.

  I stepped away from my dad’s reach, turning to face both parents with Ridge by my side. “Mom, Dad . . .” I began. “You’ve always been wonderful parents. The last two and a half hours have been, well, inexpensive for Ridge and me. For that, we are very grateful. But I’m afraid it’s time to part ways.”

  “Excuse me?” Dad shouted. “You two aren’t going anywhere. . . .”

  I turned to Ridge. “I wish they’d forget we were here.” It was a simple solution, and didn’t contradict the first wish I’d made.

  My fake mom stepped forward, her face wrinkled with concern. “How could you wish that, Ace? We are your parents. . . .”

  “If you want them to forget that we’re here,” Ridge whispered, “then your socks will get wet every time you laugh.”

  “Soaking wet?” I asked. “Or just damp?”

  “Depends on how hard you laugh,” Ridge answered. “A little chuckle will dampen them. But a full laugh will soak them. Like you dunked them in a bathtub.”

  “How long will this last?” I asked.

  “The rest of the week,” he answered.

  I grumbled, not wanting wet socks, but knowing that we needed to ditch our false parents. “I guess I’ll accept it. Bazang.”

  My hourglass watch clicked away as a dazed expression came over them. Then Mom pointed in the opposite direction, seized her husband by the hand, and they ran off toward some attraction.

  “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” Ridge muttered too quietly for them to hear. He sighed. “Just when we were starting to get along.”

  “Come on,” I said. “You know I was their favorite.”

  We wandered the park for quite a while. Ridge and I managed to spot three different vendors spinning cotton candy, but they didn’t match the details we’d learned from the second page of the Anderthons’ notebook. We were looking for a man with a pink mustache selling green cotton candy.

  So we decided to do what any reasonable kids would do at an amusement park. We jumped in line for the nearest ride. It was one that lifted you straight into the sky and then dropped you in a free fall toward the ground.

  By the time we got seated, the red padded security bars folding down over our heads, Ridge was having major second thoughts. “What if we hit the ground?” He was rubbing his sweaty hands together. “What if the safety bar comes up while we’re falling?”

  It was a little late for him to worry now. The seats were slowly rising to the top of the tower, giving us an aerial view of the amusement park. I saw the throngs of people growing smaller and smaller as we rose higher.

  “What if a giant bird flies by and plucks me out of this chair?” Ridge was rambling now, but I wasn’t paying him any attention. Through the narrow slits of my medieval helmet, I had seen something below. Tucked off in a corner where not many people passed by, there stood a man, hunched over a machine spinning sugar. I couldn’t see if he had a mustache from up so high, let alone if it was pink. But I could see the color of the cotton candy as it spiraled around a paper cone in his hand.

  It was green.

  “There!” I cut Ridge off in the middle of describing a scenario that included a high-speed windstorm and us falling to our death. “See that guy down there?” I was pointing at the cotton candy man I had spied.

  “Is that him?” Ridge squinted against the glaring midday sun.

  “Hard to tell from up here,” I replied.

  “We need to remember where he is,” said Ridge. “We can head over there as soon as we—AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

  The ride dropped and Ridge started screaming like a baby. I felt my stomach heave as we plummeted. But that’s what made it fun, right? You’ve probably been on a ride like that. But I bet you didn’t scream half as loud as Ridge.

  The ride was over before we knew it, and both of us climbed out of our seats and headed quickly in the direction of the green cotton candy stand.

  “That was horrible,” Ridge said. “It felt just like when Thackary pushed me off that cliff. Except, there was no chair at Mount Rushmore.
”

  We had entered a walkway of carnival-style games. Hoops for basketballs, water pistols to shoot down targets, giant foam hammers to test your strength. The teenagers running the booths called to us, beckoning us to play.

  Most of the prizes were stuffed bears. There must have been hundreds of them, ranging in size from mere inches to over five feet tall. Those seemed excessive. I mean, what would you do if you won something so huge? Carry it around and get extrasweaty for the rest of the day?

  The cotton candy booth was at the end of the carnival walkway. Ridge and I moved with purpose toward it, watching the man, head bowed, spinning off another fluff of green sugar threads.

  The man wore a red-and-white pin-striped suit with a stiff-brimmed straw hat to shield his face from the hot sun. Ridge and I stopped just feet from his little booth, causing him finally to look up. Across his upper lip, the man had a bushy mustache. And it was bright pink.

  “Hello, there,” I said, once again extending my sleeves to the point that I could barely keep them rolled up. It was almost like knowing that I shouldn’t say that word made me say it more often. “We’d like two, please.”

  My heart was racing. Ridge and I were about to complete the second task! This had gone so much better than Mount Rushmore. Eating cotton candy at the most joyful place on earth? It almost seemed too easy.

  The cotton candy man looked at me, then at Ridge, then back to me. “I know what you are,” he said, his voice sounding forced, and tinted with an accent I didn’t recognize. All at once, he jumped backward, kicking over his cart and scooping up all his premade cotton candy. Then he was off, sprinting past us down the walkway of carnival games.

  “Did I forget to say please?” I muttered, wondering how things had suddenly gone awry.

  “No, you definitely said please,” Ridge answered. “This guy must not get many customers.”

  We darted after him, but we only made it a few steps before we realized what was happening.

  Remember those huge, useless stuffed bears? Well, now they were coming alive.

  Chapter 24

  The teenage booth attendants ran off as the array of stuffed animals moved to charge us. They were Super-Fun-Happy Bears, the iconic mascot of the amusement park. When I’d seen them earlier, they looked snuggly and soft. Now that they were attacking, they didn’t look superfun, or superhappy.