My Wishful Thinking (15 page)

I glance at the mirror and there’s a bright light in it. It’s reflecting something from the parking lot. Suddenly, outside the front window, I see the pulse and cover my mouth.

Our wish is about to be granted.

CHAPTER 35

“WHAT?” EM ASKS. She hasn’t seen it yet.

I point the second it hits the front window and passes through. It makes a beeline for the mirror, spreading its gel-like energy over the surface.

“He’s alive,” I whisper. It’s an antidote to my fear. “He’s still granting our wishes.”

Em only nods and watches with me as the entrance of Mysterical Nights appears in the mirror.

“I knew it!” I shout.

“Yeah. Richard has him.”

It’s like we’re watching a movie in the reflection and we’re following the camera past rides and shops and food kiosks. Sound accompanies the movie. There are snatches of conversation from other park visitors and music blaring from one of the rides. The camera hugs a wall past an attraction with a gypsy-dressed fortune teller. We take a hard right just as she says, “Sometimes you must take the plunge. Sometimes you must let others take the plunge.”

Did I hear that right? “What a lousy effing fortune! Someone actually paid for that crap.”

Em giggles, partially from nerves and I hope partially because things can be fixed with us.

Back on our makeshift movie screen the camera winds and weaves its way past other rides. At one point it looks like it will smack into a red-haired woman with a double stroller, but it jogs right and we fly past her on the way to the amphitheater at the end of the cobblestone path.

There’s an archway over the theater, with a painting of Richard’s sneering face plastered across it. It hasn’t changed since we came here after fifth grade. I can even see the orchestra section where Em and I sat six very long years ago. We don’t go in, instead skirting the edge of the theater and ending up in back, where a beat-up trailer is braced by concrete blocks.

The camera view, like the pulse, passes through the door and we’re inside. Eugene is tied to a chair, his head lolled to the side. My heart skips several beats. I’m so happy to see him and so upset that Richard has tied him up.

Someone seeing Eugene would swear he’s sleeping. I know better. He never sleeps. He’s wearing his board shorts and flip flops, no shirt, exactly what he had on when he left me at Neptune’s. I want to give him a hoodie or a T-shirt so that he can bundle up. I want to give him a clean pair of jeans and take him out for a meal. But mostly, I just want to set him free.

Richard, who now has white streaks at his temples, is applying makeup to conceal his age spots in front of a lighted Hollywood-style mirror.

I flinch. If we can see him in the mirror, he might glimpse us behind him in the reflection.

“You’re going to assist me tonight,” the magician says without looking away from the mirror.

Eugene slowly opens his eyes not lifting his head. He looks weary but his voice is defiant when he says, “I can’t grant you anything. You are no longer my master.”

“Wrong, my genie friend. I am your master. They never sold the bag. You still belong to me.”

This confuses me. In a way, he’s right. He never was paid for the bag.

“Go ahead. Make another wish then,” Eugene taunts.

Richard’s face contorts in anger, and suddenly I’m terrified for Eugene. The magician picks up a pitcher of ice water from the table and stands with it over Eugene’s head.

“No,” I whisper. My throat tightens and I can barely swallow.

“It’s all right, Lo. It’ll be fine.” She puts an arm around my shoulders.

Can’t Em see how angry Richard is? He’s basically threatening to kill him. I know Em is more hopeful than me, more trusting that everything always works out for the best, but I don’t want to watch this. What if something happens to him and I can’t stop it?

Richard tips the pitcher and booms, “I wish to be young again.”

Eugene close his eyes and opens his palms, like he does for every granting, and then‌—‌

Nothing.

He screws up his face, like he’s trying to lift a heavy weight, but there’s still not a shimmer or wave. Is it a delay? Like ours? I don’t think so. Eugene’s granting for us traveled through time and space. There’s no distance between him and the magician. He granted our wish‌—‌mine and Em’s‌—‌a rare case of dual masters. But he can’t have three, can he?

Richard steps away and slams the pitcher on the table. Water sloshes over the rim. Eugene breathes a sigh of relief, and I exhale in unison with him.

“We have to go get him,” I say to Em.

She doesn’t answer, gripping her purse so tightly her knuckles stand out white in the dim lighting.

“We have to,” I repeat.

She nods, and with a hoarse voice, says, “I know.”

Richard finishes applying his makeup. He fastens a black cape lined in red silk under his chin. “You’ve changed, Eugene. You’re playing games with me now. Just like those other genies who have given your kind a bad rap. I’ll be back between shows and we’ll try again. Mark my words: you are still mine and we’ll keep trying until you get it right.” He laughs that crazy-assed laugh. The same one that gave me chills when he signed the contract to sell the bag with Eugene in it.

Eugene shrugs as if immune and‌—‌I can hardly believe it‌—‌rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

I grin. Yeah, Eugene has changed. He’s better. And I plan to keep him around a while.

CHAPTER 36

AFTER I PULL THE CONTRACT FROM MY PURSE, Em looks it over. She reads it slowly or a couple of times, I can’t really tell which, but it took her a lot effing longer to get through it than it should’ve.

I tick off a list of our obstacles. “We can’t just wish Richard away. The past master rule.”

“Right.”

“We can’t send Eugene somewhere else without his bag. I mean, there needs to be that hand-off to someone else, right?”

“Yes. From the way he explained it. We would need to hand him over to a new master or he would need to be discovered and released from the bag if we abandoned him.”

This all begs the question, how did we get Eugene? Was it a hand-over or abandonment?

Em refolds the contract and hands it back to me. “How much money do you have? Cash?”

“About thirty,” I say.

Em rifles through her wallet. “Good. That should work. We’d better go.”

I’m not sure why Em is worried about cash. I’m sure they accept credit cards at Mysterical Nights. But beyond that, I feel like we’re forgetting something important. Actually, that’s not too surprising for me. But it is for Em.

As I grab my keys, it hits me. “He knows what we look like.”

“I don’t see how we can avoid that. Should we wish for a disguise?”

After Em’s boob wish, I really don’t want to wish for anything to do with appearances, even if it involved making me beautiful. I just want to be me. “What if we take the girls for backup?” I suggest.

Em furrows her brows confused. “Which girls?”

I nod at Betsy, who’s wearing a tennis dress, and Trudy in khaki shorts and a camo top. A canteen is slung over her shoulder. Even Monnique who is dressed evening apparel, with stilettos could at least be a diversion.

For the first time a slow, devious grin spreads across my best friend’s face. “Now that’s a wish!”

We make the wish and wait impatiently for the pulse to arrive. It seems to take freakin’ forever to get to the shop, but finally it’s speeding across the parking lot, all glowing and bright. When it hits the store window, it splits into three branches one bound for Trudy, one for Monnique and one for Betsy. Each plaster girl is slammed in the chest and the glow spreads across their stiff forms.

Then, the miracle happens.

The mannequins stretch and yawn, like they’ve been awoken from a very long sleep. Trudy rolls her neck, Monnique points a high-heeled foot, and Betsy interlocks her fingers and raises her hands and arms high overhead.

“It’s about damn time,” Monnique says. That coming out of our elegantly dressed one isn’t at all what I would have expected. To me, it sounds more like Betsy.

“Um, hi. I’m Logan and this is Emily and we‌—‌”

“Is she the one who dresses us?” Trudy asks, completely ignoring me.

“She is and she always picks better clothes for you,” Betsy replies.

“Hold on a sec.” I put up my hand, palm out. “I definitely really think about the outfits I pick for you. All of you. And I try to match it to your personality.”

Monnique snorts, and they all crack up.

“This is too weird,” Em says.

I’m worried that I’m losing them, that they might walk out the door and never come back. “Listen. You have to listen. You can move because we have a genie who granted our wish to animate you. We made the wish because we need your help.”

“Is that the cutie who came out of the bag?” Trudy asks.

“You know it, girl,” Monnique answers, waving her index finger back and forth. “He’s fine, fine, fine, fine. Fine!”

It makes me wonder if the mannequins saw the hottie version of Eugene or the one I know best. “Yes, right, Eugene. He’s been kidnapped by an evil magician who’s trying to make him grant wishes and we’re afraid he‌—‌the magician‌—‌might hurt Eugene, and so we’re going to rescue him‌—‌Eugene‌—‌but the magician knows us, and he doesn’t know you, and there’s strength in numbers, and we really, really need your help.” I take a breath. “We’re leaving now. Are you coming with us, or are we going to have to wish to turn you back into statues?”

“Oh, we’re coming,” Monnique says.

“Definitely,” Trudy agrees.

“Is there time for me to change?” Betsy asks. “This doesn’t feel like rescue attire.”

“No!” The other two yell in unison.

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to get all hostile. I was just asking.”

“Actually,” I say, “that could come in handy.” I point to Betsy’s tennis racquet. “Better bring it with you.”

Betsy swings the racquet; comprehension seems to dawn in her eyes. A sly grin spreads across her face. I like it.

Better watch out, Dickie. We’re coming for you and we’ve got reinforcements.

CHAPTER 37

ONCE WE’RE INSIDE MYSTERICAL NIGHTS and on the way to rescue Eugene, we book past the fortune teller. She repeats the plunge fortune we heard in the mirror earlier. Lame. How often does she say the same thing?

“Do you think people realize that a lot of them get the same deal?” I ask Em.

But her lips are as thin as a paper cut. “Lo,” she says. “That’s not a repeat fortune. It’s the
same
one.”

Huh?

“Her expression. The way she moved her hands.”

Is Em losing it? It’s hard to know what’s real any more. “Are you sure?”

We round the corner and are almost run over by the lady with red hair pushing a navy double stroller. A breeze rushes across my forearm and raises huge goose bumps.

“Okay. So you were right. Again. Smartypants. But what does that mean?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but it might mean Richard is still in the trailer.”

My hear thumps like crazy, and we dart between tourists and rides with the girls keeping up behind us. It’s amazing how fast Monnique can run in stilettos. We round the corner and there it is‌—‌the trailer. Eugene is inside.

Peeking through the window, I see he’s tied to the chair. Richard has the pitcher positioned over his head. It’s way scarier than watching it in the mirror.

“Make the wish,” I beg Em.

“What wish?”

“To make him younger so he’ll leave Eugene alone.”

“We can’t,” she says with real sadness in her voice. “The past master rule.”

Eugene tries to grant it, but no magic comes from his palms. Richard smashes the pitcher onto the table, like in our vision. Eugene shoulders drop in relief and I cringe at what Richard could do. We need to get Eugene out of there when he leaves for the show.

The magician fastens a cape at his neck, getting ready. “You’ve changed, Eugene. You’re playing games with me now. Just like those other genies who have given your kind a bad rap. Mark my words: you are still mine and we’ll keep trying until you get it right.” He howls with maniacal laughter. “Now get dressed. You’re coming to the show with me.”

Noooo!
That’s not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to leave Eugene alone so we could rescue him.

“We have to go in,” Em says.

“Are you sure?” My stomach twists at the thought of confrontation. The revenge wish has made me wimpy squeamish.

“She’s right.” Betsy lifts her racquet.

Richard begins to loosen the ropes that bind Eugene.

“It’s now,” Monnique says. “On three. One…Two…Three‌—‌“

We burst through the door of the trailer, and Betsy clobbers Richard over the head with her sports equipment. Em throws fifty dollars on the table next to the pitcher and screams, “Paid in full!”

Monnique grabs Eugene by the wrist, “Hi there, fine boy.”

Hey! He’s mine
.

“Lo! I knew you’d come. I knew you wished.” Eugene grabs my hand and plants a kiss on my cheek. He turns to Emily and says. “Thank you.”

Trudy swings her canteen, bashing Richard’s head again, and then we’re all running. Probably for our lives.

CHAPTER 38

OUR MAD DASH has no rhyme or reason to it. I’m holding Eugene’s hand when Monnique makes a sharp right turn at the emblem for Mysterical Nights, a giant cartoon rabbit with a wand.

Wait! Isn’t the parking lot in the other direction?

But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is Monnique’s speed and that all the tourists move quickly out of the way of a deranged woman in formal attire. They probably think it’s part of a show. Eugene and I are right behind her.

Trudy is right on my heels, yelling, “Go, go, go!”

We go past the ride that’s a knockoff of the teacups, with spinning magician top hats. Around the Haunted Witch’s House that spits a dry ice fog from all its windows.

I look back and see Richard’s cape billowing behind him. The fortune telling crone is running right next to him. Why is she
with
him? How can she run like
that
? She looks so old.