Robo Rex finally rounded the corner and Ridge got his first glimpse of our enemy. He squealed and turned to run, but I grabbed his arm.
“We run, Ace!” Ridge said. “That’s what sensible people do when robot dinosaurs are chasing them.”
“We fight,” I rebutted. “That’s what a Wishmaker does. This thing’s purpose is to destroy. If we don’t shut it down, there’s no telling how much of this town it’ll ruin.”
A laser blast went over our heads. “Okay,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my hands together and shutting my eyes in concentration. “Wish smart.”
My obvious first thought was to wish that Robo Rex would deactivate or fall apart. But that was a direct wish—one that wouldn’t require much work from me. During my last quest, I had learned that those direct wishes gave me more intense consequences. Easier consequences came from wishes that still required me to do something.
“He’s charging up his bazooka tail!” Ridge shouted.
I cracked my eyes open in time to see the dinosaur’s metal tail swing sideways to scatter an aisle display. “He doesn’t have a bazooka tail,” I replied.
“You don’t know that!”
True. I didn’t. Maybe Robo Rex was saving the best for last. No matter the case, I didn’t want to find out.
“I wish I had metal boxing gloves strong enough to knock this guy out!”
It was my first time wishing in nearly two weeks. The words felt good as they rolled off my tongue. I heard a click and glanced down at my wrist. A magical hourglass had emerged from the face of my watch, standing tall, familiar white sand showing me exactly how much time I had to consider and accept the accompanying consequence.
“It’s good to be back!” Ridge shouted, clapping his hands. “If you want metal boxing gloves”—he glanced warily at the slowly approaching dinosaur—“then you’ll have to tiptoe everywhere you go for the rest of the day.”
“That’s not so bad,” I said.
“Might even be helpful,” Ridge said. “Maybe the T. rex won’t hear you coming.”
I had plenty of time left in my hourglass watch but significantly less time before Robo Rex reached us. Boxing a T. rex couldn’t be too bad. His lasers were still recharging, and it wasn’t like he could punch back with those tiny arms.
“I’ll take it!” I shouted. But the Universe required me to say the magic word before my wish would be granted. “Bazang!”
The peanut butter jar slipped from my grasp as two large metal boxing gloves formed around my fists. Oh, man, this was going to be awesome. I was going to leap off the shelves and come soaring down with a jaw-shattering superhero punch. . . .
I instantly fell to the floor, pulled down by the incredible weights around my hands.
“Get up!” Ridge shouted, holding his own jar and cowering against the cornmeal. “Get up and punch!”
“I can’t!” I had risen to a crouch on my tiptoes. Both my fists were against the floor as I strained against my new mitts. “The gloves are too heavy! Give me a hand!”
Ridge moaned in fear, coming to my side and grabbing my forearm. We heaved together and my right boxing glove lifted about an inch off the floor.
“Maybe you should wish for more muscles,” Ridge said.
“Maybe we should run!” How fast could I move on my tiptoes?
Robo Rex was upon us. I slipped my hands out of the metal gloves and jumped back. At the same moment, I saw the dinosaur’s lights flicker. The mechanical whirr of its moving parts seemed to slow. Its massive head drooped, and its tiny laser arms powered down.
Then Robo Rex fell uselessly sideways, crashing through a shelf in a tremendous puff of dust and baking flour.
“Woohoo!” Ridge cried, turning to give me a high five. “We did it!”
I stared in confusion at the fallen destruction machine. “We didn’t do anything.”
“I think we scared it to death,” Ridge said. “You know how T. rexes are. Challenge them to a boxing match and they fall right over. Big scaredy-cats . . .”
“There’s someone over there,” I muttered, peering through the white cloud of flour and dust. A figure was standing atop the crumpled form of the dinosaur. As I watched, he slid down the metal sheeting of the T. rex’s side and landed in the aisle in front of Ridge and me.
Now that I could see him clearly, my eyes went wide.
“Jathon?”
Chapter 3
It was indeed Jathon Anderthon, my sworn enemy and the son of Thackary Anderthon (who was my even bigger enemy). His blond hair was dusty, and the kid no longer had a beard. That consequence must have worn off. Clenched tightly in his right hand was an empty glass pickle jar. I recognized it from my first quest.
“That’s Jathon,” Ridge whispered.
“I see that,” I said. “Why does he have a pickle jar? Do you think he’s a Wishmaker again?”
“That would be highly unlikely,” Ridge said. “I’m guessing he carries it around for sentimental reasons.”
“Or because he likes pickles,” I said.
“I stopped the dinosaur bot,” Jathon announced. “You can thank me later.”
“You?” I cried. “What could you possibly do against a giant robot Tyrannosaurus rex?”
“It was easy,” he said. “I flipped the Off switch on its back.”
“THERE WAS AN OFF SWITCH?” I shrieked in frustration.
“Well,” Jathon continued, “I had to wish for it, of course.”
“So, you are a Wishmaker again,” I said, pointing at his jar.
Ridge stepped forward, fists clenched. “You monster! Let that genie out of her jar!”
Last time, Jathon had kept his genie bottled up for most of the week. I didn’t know what it was like inside a jar. Ridge said it was like a peaceful deep sleep between quests. But putting your genie inside a jar while they were assigned to a Wishmaker was apparently some kind of itchy, unpleasant experience.
“My genie isn’t in her jar.” Jathon gestured behind him as his genie stepped out from behind the rubble of the T. rex’s tail.
“Hey, guys.”
“Vale?” Ridge and I cried in unison.
The redheaded genie girl stood with both hands in the pockets of her hoodie, somehow managing to look slightly bored while surrounded by the wreckage.
“But that’s . . .” I stammered. “She’s not . . .”
“Vale is Tina’s genie!” Ridge finally managed.
“You know that’s not how it works,” Vale said. “The Universe assigns us wherever we’re needed.”
“I have so many questions right now.” I put a hand to my head. “What are you two even doing here?”
“I’m wondering the same about you,” said Jathon.
We glared at each other for a moment. “You go first,” I said.
“You go first,” Jathon replied.
“No. You go first.”
“Rock, paper, scissors?” Ridge suggested.
I shot him a dirty glare. Tina had tricked me before with that game. I wasn’t going to risk playing it ever again.
“Fine. I’ll explain.” I took a deep breath. “Tina wished for her mom’s necklace to be a trinket that would reunite me with Ridge once I broke it.”
“What’s with the dinosaur?” Vale asked.
“I’ve actually been wondering the same thing,” Ridge whispered.
“The Robo Rex was a side effect,” I explained. “Apparently, Ms. Gomez’s necklace was already a trinket. Breaking the chain made two wishes come true. It brought me Ridge’s jar, but it also summoned that destructo robot.”
“Hmm,” Jathon mused. “So you tricked the Universe? You two aren’t really supposed to be back together?”
“Yes, we are,” I spat. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “This was Tina’s idea, anyway. We have to help her get away from Chasm.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jathon replied. “The Universe sent me this genie jar yesterday. I was going to have some pickles with my gri
lled cheese sandwich. I got Vale instead.”
“Equally sour,” Ridge muttered.
I turned to Vale. “Don’t you live inside a little jar of lip balm?”
“That was just how Tina found me,” she answered. “The Universe disguises our jars to look like something the Wishmaker would want to open. Apparently, Jathon eats a lot of pickles.”
“They’re delicious, okay?” the boy defended.
“Calm down,” said Ridge. “What’s the big dill?”
“Is it common for the Universe to send another genie to someone who has already been a Wishmaker?” I asked.
“No,” answered Vale. “I’ve never heard of it happening. But with Chasm on the loose, the Universe must be desperate enough to try something new.”
“I have to free Tina from Chasm,” Jathon said. “And I only have six more days to do it.”
“That sounds like a quest,” I said.
“It is,” Jathon answered. “My quest is to separate a genie from a Wishmaker. The Universe needs me to save Tina.”
“What happens if you fail?”
“If I don’t free Tina by the end of the week, then the air is going to turn into chocolate sauce.”
“Delicious!” Ridge cried.
“What about breathing?” I asked.
“I think that’s sort of the point,” Jathon said.
“Another quest with a world-ending consequence,” Vale said. “The Universe knows it can count on Jathon Anderthon.”
“What about me?” I turned to Ridge. “Do I have a new quest?”
“Yes, you do!” He snapped his fingers. “And I’m so glad you mentioned it. That totally slipped my mind.”
“What is it?” I asked, shuffling my feet nervously in the littered aisle. “Am I supposed to find Tina, too? What does the Universe need me to do?”
“You must make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and feed it to a person named Samuel Sylvester Stansworth,” Ridge answered.
“What is it with the Universe and peanut butter?” I cried. “That sounds like the easiest quest ever!”
“Unless the guy hates sandwiches,” Ridge pointed out. “Or what if he’s allergic to peanuts?”
“What does it matter?” I asked. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with saving Tina.”
This quest wasn’t any stranger than my first, when I’d been told to find Thackary Anderthon and stop him from opening Chasm’s jar.
“Neither do I,” Ridge admitted. “But that’s the quest that the Universe assigned you.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I shouted, feeling my cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “How’s that supposed to help Tina? Make a peanut butter sandwich for some random guy. . . .”
“Samuel Sylvester Stansworth,” Ridge reminded me.
I took a deep breath. The quest wasn’t what I’d been hoping for, but the Universe had to give me this assignment for a good reason, right? “What happens if I don’t succeed?” I asked. “Will the whole world burn up? Will it rain deadly shards of metal?”
Ridge wrinkled his forehead as though trying to figure out a difficult math problem. “If you don’t succeed . . .” He paused. “Then all the red roses in the world will lose their smell.”
I stared, speechless. But Vale and Jathon both chuckled.
“All the red roses will lose their smell?” I repeated.
“Yup.” Ridge nodded. “Really not too bad, considering last time.”
“No!” I cleared my throat. “That’s dumb. I got you back so I could free Tina. That’s what we’re going to do.”
“What about the consequence?” Ridge asked.
“Who cares?” I threw my hands up. “Unscented roses aren’t going to hurt anyone.” Insulted by the Universe’s lack of trust in me, I turned to Jathon and Vale.
“I assume you’re here because you have a lead on how to save Tina?” I asked.
Jathon nodded. “I made a wish to find out if anyone knew how to separate a genie from a Wishmaker.”
“Just wait until the week runs out,” Ridge said. “The Universe separates us when the quest ends.”
Vale shook her head. “Chasm’s different. Tina doesn’t have a quest while she’s tethered to him. And he said that the two of them would be together until Tina died.”
“Is there a way?” I asked. “Some way to cut Tina free and send Chasm back into his jar?”
“We don’t know how,” Vale admitted. “But the Universe told us about someone who does.”
“We’re looking for a person called the Trinketer,” said Jathon.
“And you thought you’d check the grocery store?” I asked.
“I wished to know where the Trinketer would be at noon today,” Jathon said. “The answer led me here.”
“How is the Trinketer supposed to help?” Ridge asked.
“Going by her title, she might know about some trinkets capable of freeing a Wishmaker from a genie,” answered Vale. “Just what Tina needs.”
“Then we’d better find her,” I said. “There were a lot of people in the store. Any idea what this Trinketer looks like?”
“I guess we should figure that out,” said Jathon, turning to Vale. “I wish to know what the Trinketer looks like.”
I saw his watch turn into an hourglass as Vale spelled things out. “If you want to know what the Trinketer looks like,” she said, “then every time you look in a mirror, it will break.”
“Whoa,” Ridge said. “Doesn’t that bring you bad luck?”
“How long will it last?” Jathon asked, ignoring Ridge.
“One month,” answered Vale.
“I’ll take it,” he said. “Bazang.” His hourglass disappeared and he suddenly had the answer. “The Trinketer is a woman,” Jathon said. “About this tall.” He held up his hand. “Black hair, dark complexion. She wears a thin gold necklace.”
I sighed heavily. “Used to,” I corrected.
“Huh?”
“She used to wear a thin gold necklace,” I explained. “The Trinketer is Maria Gomez. Tina’s mom.”
Chapter 4
I felt pretty bad about the condition of the grocery store. One of the exterior walls had crumbled, and there were only two aisles still standing.
We left the broken heap of robotic dinosaur lying where Jathon had deactivated it. There were bystanders waiting in the parking lot, but we managed to slip past them without attracting too much suspicion. Guess I should thank the Universe for that. We did, however, manage to overhear a snippet of conversation that explained what all the ordinary people had seen.
“Runaway wrecking ball! Must’ve rolled down from that construction site. Smashed clean through the store. Lucky nobody got crushed!”
I didn’t know what they’d make of the lasers. And we weren’t going to stick around to find out.
I tiptoed to the street corner and tried to remember which was the way to the Gomez household. I have to admit, I was feeling much more confident with Ridge walking beside me, and that familiar jar of peanut butter in my old backpack.
“We take a left here,” I said, gesturing down the street.
“Ace!” Ridge replied with such shock in his voice that I swiveled to see what was wrong. But the genie was grinning. “You knew it was left!”
“Of course I knew. . . .” I trailed off, realizing that I wasn’t supposed to know my directions. “Left,” I muttered, pointing left. “And right.” I pointed right, a smile breaking on my face now.
“Good for you,” Jathon said sarcastically. “You know your lefts and rights.”
“This is actually a pretty big deal,” I said. “I have a consequence. I’m not supposed to know that for a year.”
Ridge seemed to get really excited. “Stick out your tongue!”
I raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You’re my friend. That’s rude.”
“You’re right,” Ridge said. “Stick out your tongue at Jathon. You never liked him much.”
I shrugged and stuck out my tongu
e.
“It’s not green anymore!” Ridge shouted loud enough that I thought the neighbors might peek out the windows.
“Seriously?” I went cross-eyed trying to look down at my own tongue.
“Your old consequences . . .” Ridge stammered. “They’re . . .”
“Gone,” Vale finished. I looked at her for an explanation. As a more experienced genie, she always seemed to have better information than Ridge did.
Vale gestured with her thumb toward Jathon. “Same thing happened to him when he opened my jar.”
Now that it had been pointed out to me, I realized that Jathon no longer showed the long-lasting consequences that he’d taken on his last quest. His right eyeball was no longer yellow, and his tongue had also returned to a healthy shade of pink. We were supposed to carry those forever. Now they were gone?
“No more consequences?” I cried. But that couldn’t be. My wish against the Robo Rex hadn’t been free, and I was tiptoeing to prove it.
“As far as I can tell, the Universe has given you both a blank slate,” Vale continued. “It must be an exception that the Universe is willing to make for someone who becomes a Wishmaker twice.”
“Makes sense,” Ridge supported. “It wouldn’t be very fair to make you tackle another quest while you’re still suffering consequences from the last one. Tethering yourself to a genie must automatically wipe away all lingering consequences.”
I let out a big breath of relief. New quest. New consequences. The Universe was giving me a chance to start over!
“We think that’s why my dad was so desperate to find the Undiscovered Genie,” Jathon said. “The one free wish actually had nothing to do with removing his old consequences. Since my dad is an adult, Chasm’s jar was the only one he could open. We didn’t know at the time, but the simple act of opening the jar and tethering himself to Chasm would have deleted his old consequences. He would have still had a free wish after that.”
I shuddered, wondering what Thackary Anderthon would have done with a free wish. “Where is your awful dad, anyway?” I asked, tiptoeing down the road to the left.
Jathon shuffled a few steps to keep up, peering anxiously over his shoulder. “My dad . . . I’m not exactly sure where he is.”
The Wishbreaker Page 2
