The Wishbreaker

by Tyler Whitesides

  Dedication

  To all my nieces and nephews

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  But Wait, There’s More. . . .

  About the Author

  Books by Tyler Whitesides

  Back Ad

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  There was a giant robot dinosaur smashing its way toward me.

  You might be wondering how I got here, sitting in a pile of peanut butter jars in the grocery store while people ran screaming in every direction.

  I’ll tell you.

  It had been ten terribly lonely days since I lost my genie, Ridge, who disappeared back into his jar once our quest was over. Chasm, the newly freed all-powerful genie bent on world domination, escaped his cave prison—and I got left behind. Luckily, the hole he had blasted to get out of the cave led to the street right outside the Museum of Cans, Crates, Cartons, and Containers, and that strange curator guy was still around. Apparently, he no longer needed to guard the museum, since the undiscovered cave had been, well . . . discovered.

  He took pity on me and asked where he could drop me off. I told him Nebraska, assuming Tina’s mom would still be there and that she had the magic trinket I needed to set everything right.

  The curator drove me the whole way in the museum van, which was actually a very frightening experience, since he didn’t really know how to drive. It shouldn’t have taken us so many days, but I was terrible at giving directions since I still couldn’t tell left from right.

  I went to St. Mercy’s Hospital first, made some inquiries, and eventually found the rural town that Tina and her mom called home. From there it was pretty easy to locate the correct house. There really weren’t that many to choose from. I thanked the curator and told him that I needed to do this next part on my own. The strange man wiggled his unibrow and drove off into the sunset.

  Right as I was about to knock on the door, Ms. Gomez pulled out of the garage. Lucky for me, she wasn’t going far. I chased her a few blocks to the neighborhood grocery store and followed her inside.

  But how was I supposed to start this conversation?

  “Hi, Ms. Gomez. You must be Tina’s mom. I know, because I spied on you in the hospital when you were terminally ill. My name’s Ace. I’m friends with your daughter. Or at least I was before she got enslaved by an evil genie called Chasm. Anyway, I’m here to break your favorite necklace. . . .”

  No. It would be easier to avoid such a conversation altogether. It would be easier to corner Maria Gomez, take her by surprise, break the chain, and run for it. Tina could explain everything to her mom after I saved her. But first, I needed to get my genie back before Chasm did anything crazy.

  I hadn’t seen any major catastrophes on the news, so Chasm seemed to be biding his time. I knew the evil genie was somewhere out there. But where? I was sure Chasm had hundreds of nefarious plans cooked up from his millennia of entrapment inside his jar. So, what was he waiting for?

  I watched Ms. Gomez pick out a shopping cart, tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind her upside-down ear. As an ex-Wishmaker, she still carried consequences like that from her youth. I could relate. I, too, had a few unfortunate consequences that would be sticking with me forever.

  As I looked at her now, it was hard to believe she’d ever been sick. Tina had cured her mom’s illness with a wish, and she looked perfectly healthy. Ms. Gomez wasn’t very tall, and pleasantly plump, but seemed plenty strong as she yanked apart two shopping carts that had been stuck together.

  I crept up behind her as she stopped to pick out a loaf of bread. Tina’s note said she had made a wish to turn her mother’s necklace into the trinket that would reunite me with my genie. I saw the thin chain glinting around Ms. Gomez’s neck. A sharp tug should easily snap it. Of course, Tina would suffer some kind of nasty consequence in the same moment, but she’d known the risks when she wished for the trinket.

  I glanced from side to side to make sure no one was watching. Only then did I realize which aisle we were in. Where fate (or the Universe) had brought me.

  The peanut butter aisle.

  I moved in as Ms. Gomez stooped to set the bread into her cart. She turned as I leaped toward her, but I was too fast. My fingers brushed her neck as I snatched the chain. My momentum kept me going down the aisle. I heard her gasp, felt the necklace go tight in my grasp.

  The chain snapped.

  I thought for sure I was safe, but Ms. Gomez whirled with surprising speed, the shopping cart rolling away as she caught me by the arm. I was jerked around, barely getting my feet under me as we came face-to-face.

  I probably looked really sick to her. Old consequences meant that my ragged breath smelled like fish, my right eye was yellow, my tongue was green, and my face was smudged with a bit of dried peanut butter.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Ms. Gomez whispered, her voice carrying a definite Spanish accent.

  “Do you like toast?” I said. Not because I wanted to sound like a smart aleck. The Universe forced me to answer any question with another question. I still had the rest of the year until that consequence let up.

  My mismatched eyes fixed on the necklace dangling from my fist. Good. I could see where the chain had broken. Ridge’s jar should be on its way.

  “You can have it back,” I said, opening my fingers and letting it fall from my sweaty hand. Behind me, there was a thump as something fell to the hard floor of the grocery aisle. Craning my neck against Ms. Gomez’s iron grip, I saw what had made the sound.

  It was a solitary peanut butter jar that had seemingly leaped from the shelf like an anxious volunteer.

  A grin spread across my face as the jar wobbled upright. I could see the bright warning label from where I stood. No other peanut butter jar came with a warning. That was it. Ridge! All I had to do was twist off that lid and my genie would be back!

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m a Wishmaker. Or, I was one. And I’m about to be again.”

  “That necklace was a trinket,” Ms. Gomez cut me off, still holding my arm.

  “I know,” I answered. “That’s why I had to break it. That was the only way to find my genie again.”

  “That’s not what it does!” Her face twisted in confusion, but her grip finally relaxed enough for me to pull free.

  “What?” I replied, crossing to pick up Ridge’s jar. “The trinket worked perfectly.” It felt right to hold the jar again. But my grip also brought back the dreaded responsibility of being a Wishmaker. The power of the Universe at my fingertips . . . in exchange for consequences.

  “But the necklace,” Ms. Gomez said, pointing at the broken chain on the floor. “I took that trinket from a very bad Wishmaker nearly eight years ago.”

  What was she talking about? I picked nervously at the edge of the jar’s warning label, feeling the edge of the sticker begin to peel up.

  Ms. Gomez’s eyes suddenly grew wide. “Fudge ripple!” she shouted, stooping to lift the chain from the floor. “It’s
a double trinket!”

  “Double trinket?”

  “You wished for this necklace to become a trinket,” she said.

  “Not me,” I replied. Should I tell her about Tina? “It was—”

  “What does it do?” Ms. Gomez interrupted me.

  “Didn’t I already say?” I answered with a mandatory question. “Breaking the chain reunited me with my genie.” As proof, I held up the jar of peanut butter, the half-peeled warning label curling up like a scroll.

  “Then you better open that quickly,” Ms. Gomez stated. “We’re going to need a genie to get away from the trinket’s original purpose.”

  “What was its original purpose?”

  “The Wishmaker I took this from loved chaos.” Ms. Gomez gave a worried glance down the grocery store aisle. “When the chain breaks, the trinket releases a creature capable of mass destruction.”

  I swallowed hard. “What kind of creature?”

  And that’s how the giant robot dinosaur got there.

  The shelves behind Ms. Gomez erupted. She crumpled to the floor as bagged loaves of bread flew like shrapnel. The force of the impact tossed me backward and I slammed into the rack behind me.

  Plastic jars of peanut butter cascaded upon my stunned form, burying me nearly to the neck. I shook my head against the blow and lifted my hands, only then realizing that I had dropped Ridge’s jar. No worries. I just needed to find the jar with the warning label on the lid.

  Oh, right. The label was stuck to my thumb.

  There was another loud crack, and a nearby shelf exploded, sending deadly canned goods flying in every direction. That’s when people started running from the store, screaming. I don’t know what they thought was going on. The Universe always shielded ordinary people, making magical things seem somehow explainable. But I was no ordinary person. I was an ex-Wishmaker.

  So, I think that catches you up on my current situation. Now, any ideas on how to get away from a robot dinosaur?

  Chapter 2

  You probably think dinosaurs are cool. I do too. But I prefer the ones that aren’t trying to crush me.

  The one in front of me looked kind of like a T. rex, except totally made of metal. Its head scraped the high ceiling of the grocery store as mechanical feet slammed down with enough force to crack the smooth floor.

  Robo Rex paused, tilted its head, and let out a roar that sounded like nails in a blender. A row of multicolored LED lights flickered across its razor teeth, and both eyes flashed red and yellow. On a TV show, it would have looked ridiculously cheesy. But in real life it was really quite terrifying.

  If it didn’t bite me in half, it would stomp me with those iron feet. At least it had tiny, useless arms.

  Lasers suddenly shot from Robo Rex’s arms, blasting another shelf to bits. Okay, not so useless after all.

  It was time to find Ridge and take this punk down.

  I grabbed one of the peanut butter jars from the pile around me and twisted off the lid. This time, there was no puff of smoke. But what if Ridge was trapped beneath that papery protective seal? I jabbed my index finger through, feeling it sink in creamy peanut butter up to the second knuckle.

  I dropped the jar and grabbed another, repeating the process. The second one was not a genie, either. It was chunky.

  A short distance away, I saw a bit of rubble rousing. Ms. Gomez! She pushed aside a broken shelf and painstakingly rose to her knees. Her black hair looked gray with dust, and her movements were slow but determined.

  Ms. Gomez looked up at Robo Rex defiantly. Its animatronic eyes fixed on her and I thought I saw the tiny laser arms recharging.

  “Hey!” I shouted, leaping to my feet and hurling the ordinary jar of peanut butter at the robot dinosaur. It pinged harmlessly off one of the metal legs. “Pick on someone your own size!”

  In response, Robo Rex turned its gaze on me, pointing the lasers in my direction.

  “Not me!” I shouted, backing up. “I’m way smaller than you!”

  Ms. Gomez looked at me as I tripped on the array of peanut butter jars and fell hard on my backside. “Adios, muchacho!” she said, sprinting toward the store’s exit.

  “You’re not going to help me?” I screamed.

  “I didn’t break the necklace!” I heard her shout as she ducked out of sight.

  I managed to stick my fingers into three more jars of peanut butter before the dino’s lasers powered up again. It fired and the floor in front of me broke apart, debris flying with a cloud of smoke and the smell of toasted bread. Well, at least Robo Rex had terrible aim.

  With the sound of grinding gears, it came toward me. I scrambled away from the pile of peanut butter jars, grabbing two on my way out. I was counting on one of them to house Ridge, because the mechanical dinosaur’s foot promptly pulverized the rest of the pile.

  That giant stomper came down right where I’d been sitting. I heard the plastic jars popping like grapes under its metal foot. Peanut butter spattered everywhere. I felt a big gob of it hit me square in the back as I staggered away.

  Cleanup on aisle twelve!

  I sprinted around the end of the shelf and ran down two more aisles before making a brief stop next to the spices.

  Okay, jar number one. Please have a genie inside.

  Tucking one jar under my arm, I quickly twisted the lid off the other. I stabbed my finger through the quality seal and came up with nothing but sticky spread.

  Grunting in anger, I tossed the useless jar aside. Behind me, I heard the giant robot dinosaur smashing through shelves, coming my way. . . .

  Okay, jar number two. It had better be you.

  I slipped it out from under my arm, grabbed the lid, and gave it a sharp twist.

  Nothing but peanut butter. Organic.

  I hurled it down the aisle. Now my only hope was to circle back around to the scene of the peanut butter massacre and try to find Ridge’s jar in the mess. I might have stomped my feet in frustration if Robo Rex’s head hadn’t suddenly appeared over the spice shelf.

  As I dove forward, the light-up teeth snapped at the spot where I had been standing. I ran aimlessly, painfully aware that I was moving away from the peanut butter squish and any hope of finding Ridge.

  Hmmm . . . How to stop a robot dinosaur without some magical assistance?

  One time, a kid in my class ruined his remote-control car when he dropped it in the toilet. Not sure why he had it in the bathroom, but it was clear that electronics and water didn’t mix.

  A laser blast went over my shoulder, striking the refrigerated dairy section and melting twenty pounds of butter.

  That’s it! Milk!

  Maybe I could short-circuit Robo Rex with a couple gallons of milk. At least that might slow it down so I could get back to the peanut butter aisle.

  I grabbed two jugs of skim milk and turned to face the dinosaur. I really hoped this guy was lactose intolerant.

  I threw the first jug, hoping it would break open when it hit, but I missed altogether. Turned out I was just as bad at aiming as the T. rex. And I had full-sized arms!

  My second jug got him right under the chin, breaking open and showering the robot. But instead of throwing sparks and slowing him down, the milk bath just seemed to enrage him. Robo Rex’s foot came up for a mighty stomp, higher than any one before. And then I saw it.

  Ridge’s genie jar.

  The peanut butter container was lodged in the bottom of the dinosaur’s foot like a thorn. The metal was ripped and folded back, and I could just see the plastic lid sticking out.

  Any other container would have been smashed to bits, but a genie jar was unbreakable.

  I acted out of sheer impulse, leaping forward as the foot started to come down. Dropping to my knees, I slid across the wet, milky floor. My hands came up, scraping the cold metal and groping blindly. I caught the lid and felt the jar fall into my grasp, clearing the foot just as it came down to crack the floor.

  I was on my feet, sprinting down the nearest aisle that stil
l had shelves intact. Behind me, the dinosaur’s metal tail swiped around, utterly crushing the dairy section.

  Gasping for breath, I came to a halt. My fingers were still messy with peanut butter, and I slipped twice while trying to twist off the lid. At last, I felt it turn in my hand.

  There was a loud bang and a puff of smoke, and I felt the lid disintegrate in my grasp. I let out a victorious laugh, peering through the smoke to see my long-awaited genie friend.

  Across the aisle, I thought I saw his silhouette, but his back was to me. And his voice . . .

  “Behold, mere mortal!” cried a gravelly voice. “I stand between you and the power of the Universe. Your wish is my command. But beware the costly consequences that come with . . .”

  The smoke cleared and the genie turned around.

  “Oh, hey, Ace! It’s you!” It was indeed Ridge, and now his voice had returned to the squeaky timbre I was familiar with. “You’re my Wishmaker? What are the odds that the Universe would put us together again?”

  “The Universe didn’t,” I said. “It was a trinket. And what happened to your voice a second ago?”

  “Oh, that.” Ridge scratched self-consciously at his curly hair. “I was trying something new. You see, when I appeared to you the first time, I didn’t do a really great job of explaining anything. I figured I should lay down some of the basics for my new Wishmaker. Maybe try out a more intense voice to get some respect.”

  “It sounded like you had a cold,” I pointed out.

  “I was going for ominous.”

  There was a bright flash of lasers and the shelf behind Ridge exploded. He screamed good and loud, but I was past that by now.

  “What was that?”

  “That’s the robot T. rex,” I explained. “He’s got laser arms.”

  “Why is there a robot T. rex in the grocery store?”

  “Um . . . I blame Tina’s mom.” I could tell the dinosaur was making its way toward us, demolishing anything in its path. It was wishing time. I held out my arm, waggling my wrist at him. “Don’t you have something for me?”

  “Right!” Ridge fumbled for a moment before slapping a familiar wristwatch onto my arm. I glanced down at the leather band and smooth face. Hello, old friend.