by David Lubar
A dozen kids were lined up, waiting their turn. There was a gate right inside the entrance. Kids moved inside the gate after they gave the guy their ticket.
“You go ahead,” I told Buzzy.
“Okay. Hey, look!” He pointed over my head. As I turned, he stuck his foot in front of me and shoved me from behind.
I let out a shout as I tripped and fell into the only mud puddle in the whole carnival. A couple people came over to help me up, including the guy who ran the ride. He looked a lot like the guy who ran the sausage booth. Maybe they were brothers. After I got to my feet, I saw Buzzy at the front of the line. He’d hopped the gate.
The guy glanced at Buzzy, but didn’t say anything. He just let him on. Before the next kid could get in, the guy said, “One at a time.”
The ride started out slowly, then picked up speed. In a moment, it was really swooping around. It looked cool enough that I almost wished I was on it. Then again, I could always ride it after Buzzy got off.
“It’s not mild!” Buzzy shouted as he swooped past.
I noticed that the letters in the name shook. On his next swoop, Buzzy shouted, “You’re such a child!”
The letters shook again. But not all of them. I realized it was just the I, L, and D. That was weird. They bounced like someone had given the support post a hard kick.
As Buzzy shot past again, he yelled, “This is wild!”
The letters in WILD shook, then fell off the crossbar, one at a time. The W barely missed the head of a kid who was standing in the line.
Buzzy was now riding the BLUE YONDER.
“Me!” he shouted as he swooped by. “I’m riding.”
Next swoop, he pointed at me. “You’re not!”
The N and the O in BLUE YONDER shook. There wasn’t a T. I wondered whether letters would fall only if they matched the whole word. Not that it mattered—as long as nobody was standing underneath the sign, nobody would get hurt.
Buzzy ran through a half dozen rhymes for not, and then shouted, “You don’t have a clue!”
As the L, U, and E shook, my eyes locked on the sign. I’d always been good with word games. What I saw made my knees buckle. I could feel the blood drain from my face. I realized that Buzzy’s words might matter a lot. Don’t say it, I thought. But I knew it was coming. He was running out of other words.
“The ride’s not through!”
I wondered if there was any way I could get him to be quiet.
“You belong in a zoo!”
Just the O shook.
“Go buy a canoe!”
I glanced at the ride operator. Maybe the ride would end before Buzzy said the wrong thing. I hoped so. But the guy was standing there with his arms folded across his chest like he was willing to let BLUE YONDER run all day.
Buzzy pointed at me and screamed, “I’m better than you!”
Oh, no. He’d said it. You. I looked at the sign. The Y fell first, leaving BLUE ONDER. The U fell, leaving BL E ONDER. Finally, the O dropped. The sign now read BL E NDER. The crossbar was still shaking enough to make the letters slide together. Buzzy was no longer riding the BLUE YONDER. He was strapped into the BLENDER.
I hoped nothing else would change, but I sort of knew what was coming. The jet tilted so its nose pointed straight up. The wings folded down. The tail turned into a blade that pulled into the bottom of the jet.
I flinched as a whirring sound ripped through the air. I heard Buzzy scream, “Help!” His scream was followed by sounds I didn’t want to identify.
The whir slowed, and then stopped. The ride, still shaped like a blender, lowered itself to the ground and settled into the base. I heard a liquidy sort of slurping, like when water runs down a half-clogged drain.
I noticed a thick hose attached to the base. I followed it with my eyes, though I really didn’t have to. I was pretty sure I knew where it led. The hose, snaking its way among the dozens of cables and wires that cross a carnival ground, ran all the way to the rear of Sonny’s Super Sloppy Sausage Sandwich booth. I guess Buzzy was headed there himself.
I wasn’t in the mood for any more rides. And I really wasn’t in the mood for any food. I headed to the parking lot to wait for Mrs. Skantz. It was going to be kind of hard to explain about Buzzy. I guess I was sorry we’d come to the carnival. But I was pretty glad I didn’t eat the sausage.
YACKITY-YAK
Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to talk to someone. We’re both waiting for the bus anyhow, so I hope you won’t mind. I don’t think the next one’s coming for a half hour. Okay if we talk?
“Great. I’m Linda, by the way. I think we go to the same middle school. I’ve seen you in the halls. You might have seen me, but I’d understand if you didn’t notice me. Nobody notices me. That’s how my big problem started. I was getting all sad and depressed because it seemed I’d have to go through life just not being popular or anything. Then I found this book in the used-book store. It had fallen behind one of the shelves. I had the feeling it had been there for ages. It was a book of spells.
“I know that stuff can be dangerous, but I was sort of desperate. So I looked through it, and there was a whole section of social spells, like how to make a guy fall in love with you, and how to win a contest. But I really didn’t want any guy to fall in love with me at the time, and there wasn’t any contest I needed to win. I just wanted a better social life.
“I found a spell that promised to make me fascinating. I knew that would do the trick. Hey—I notice you keep looking at your watch. So I guess you already figured out that I’m not fascinating. I’m my usual old boring self.
“If you guessed that I messed up the spell, you’re right. The ingredients were pretty simple, except for the bat’s wing. I’m not even going to tell you how I got one of those. Anyhow, I mixed it all up in a copper bowl, just like the book says, then put it in a shallow pan in the oven. Luckily, it’s not something you have to drink. No way I’m drinking anything that’s got a bat’s wing in it. You just boil it up, and then wait for it to cool and dip your left hand in it.
“So I did all of that, and I’m all set to be popular. But the moment I dipped my hand in the mixture, I started talking. I guess you’ve noticed I’ve barely stopped to take a breath.
“What’s this about? I ask myself. I check the spell really carefully, and I notice that I was supposed to use a toadstool taken from a graveyard. But I guess what I used was a mushroom or something. I’m not even sure what the difference is. The point is, I didn’t cast the spell I wanted. So now I don’t know what to do.
“That’s a nice watch, by the way. I guess we’ve been here for a while. The bus should be coming pretty soon.
“Anyhow. I looked through the book, page by page, and I found another spell that was close to mine. This one was just like the one for popularity, except that it used a mushroom instead of a toadstool. As I said, I really don’t know the difference. But, obviously, I ended up making the wrong spell. Unfortunately, this one wasn’t in the social section. It was in the section for dealing with enemies.
“This spell lets you talk. Actually, it makes you talk. So here I am, forced to keep talking. I’ve been talking for three days, now. I can’t stop. Let me tell you, this is definitely not the way to become popular. I’m sure not messing with any more spells. Not ever.
“But the good thing is that the spell doesn’t last forever. It’s pretty easy to remove. Well, maybe not pretty easy, but it can be removed.
“Oh, look, the bus is coming.
“Anyhow, all I have to do to remove it is find someone who will listen to me for half an hour. Well, actually, it doesn’t get removed. It sort of gets transferred.
“I guess I don’t have anything else to say. Thanks for listening. What’s that? I’m sorry, I really don’t feel like hearing anyone else’s chatter. Gotta go. Bye.”
WISH AWAY
Alien or genie—it was hard to tell. All Michael knew at first was that the creature wasn’t human. It appeared at midn
ight in his room, with the sound of a handful of mud thrown against his window. It began as a shadow against the wall, cast through the curtains by the sliver of moon. The shadow grew thicker, gained grayness and hints of color, and took the form of a twisted man with the head of a venomous snake.
Michael screamed and scooted back until he was wedged deep into the corner of his room. But the creature caught the sound with his flickering tongue and swallowed it.
“Hush,” he said. “There is nothing to fear.”
“Who are you?”
“A wishmaster.”
“What?” Michael realized his fists were still clenched. He let his fingers uncurl.
“Call me Somna,” the creature said. His voice was deep, like the rumble of thunder, but quiet, like the whisper of cloth against cloth. “I’m here to admit you into the League of Wishers.”
“What’s that?” The only league Michael knew about was the one at the bowling alley.
“Special people with a special talent. There are those in the universe who can make their wishes become real.” Somna pointed a claw at Michael. “It is a rare talent, and one that requires training. It is my task to find those who possess this skill and teach them to master it. Are you ready?”
Michael nodded, though his mind was numb.
“You’ve already begun,” Somna said. “It was a wish that brought me here. You called me when you yelled about the unfairness of life. It was a powerful call.”
Michael remembered the tantrum. His joystick broke right after dinner. He’d asked his parents to take him to the store that night. It was a reasonable request, but they’d refused. He’d argued. They’d ignored his pleas. And then he’d shouted and thrown the joystick to the floor. That was why he’d been sent to bed early. And why his throat was sore. Before he fell asleep, his mind filled with wishes. Not all of them were nice.
Somna showed Michael how to speak a wish so it became a reality. As first, he had Michael wish for unimportant things—a pebble, a sheet of paper, a pencil, or a button.
Finally, Somna told Michael, “Wish for something of value.”
“Anything?” Michael shivered as the possibilities flooded his mind.
“Start small,” Somna said.
Michael wished for a joystick. It appeared on the bed. Then he wished for money. His hands filled with coins. Some were from Earth. Others bore strange markings. Many seemed to be made of gold.
“This is awesome.” As Michael counted his wealth, Somna drifted back into the shadows.
“Enjoy your harvest,” the shadows whispered.
For a month, Michael worked on mastering his wishing skills. He learned to get exactly what he wanted. A wish for money, as he had seen, could bring all sorts of things. A wish for a crisp, new hundred-dollar bill brought exactly that. Not that he needed money, since he could just as easily wish for anything money could buy.
At midnight, a month later, on the next sliver beyond the new moon, Somna returned. “You have passed the trial period,” he said. “Do you wish to become a full member of the League?”
“Of course,” Michael said.
“Then your wish is granted.” Somna brushed Michael’s forehead with a claw. “You are one of us.”
Michael felt as if a thread had been pulled from his mind and stretched across the universe. He tested his powers to make sure nothing had changed. The clink of coins filled the room as seventy-seven silver dollars fell on his blanket. That was exactly what he had wished for. He didn’t need coins, but he liked owning them.
“Where does it come from?” Michael asked.
“The money?” Somna asked.
“Yeah.”
“From others among the League. It is a closed universe. Nothing new is created. Objects move from place to place. Coins, cars, camels—it doesn’t matter. It all has to come from somewhere.”
“Okay.” That was fine with Michael. He didn’t mind wishing things away from other members. He didn’t know them. And they didn’t know him. It seemed like a perfect arrangement.
Somna turned to leave.
“Wait,” Michael said as another thought cast a shadow across his joy. He scooped up a handful of the coins from the bed and clutched them in his fist. “Does that mean someone can take money from me?”
“They could,” Somna said, “if any of them wanted something as useless as money. Most League members have other needs.”
“Like what?” As Michael spoke, his shirt fell open. He glanced down and saw that all his buttons were missing.
“whatever they want,” Somna said.
“That’s not fair. That’s—” Michael’s sentence ended with a yelp as he fell to the floor. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out why he was no longer standing. When he tried to get back up, he saw the reason he’d lost his balance and toppled over. His left leg was missing.
“It looks like someone made a wish,” Somna said.
Michael tried to scream, but his tongue and vocal cords were gone. He tried to wish them back, but part of his brain vanished, taking away his ability to think.
Other parts of Michael lasted a bit longer, but the League was large and had many needs. Soon, there was nothing left of Michael. Not even a wish.
THE DEPARTMENT STORE
So, we’re thinking, maybe you’re cool enough to hang out with us,” Nicky said.
“Yeah.” I was afraid to say much more. I didn’t want to act too excited. But Nicky and his friends were awesome. They called themselves the Wolves because our school mascot was a mountain goat, and wolves could totally tear up any goat. They always took over the best basketball court at recess, and they had the coolest table at lunch. I couldn’t believe they were actually giving me a chance to hang out with them.
“Of course, there’s a little test,” Nicky said.
“No problem.” It didn’t matter. I could handle anything.
“Let’s see….” Nicky turned toward the rest of the Wolves, who stood in a half circle near us at the edge of the ball field. “Any ideas?”
“Climb the old bell tower?” Stinky Miller suggested.
Nicky shook his head. “Nah, we don’t want to lose this one. He’ll probably make a good Wolf. Let’s give him a break.”
He paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I know—all you have to do is spend the night in Brazzleberg’s.”
“You want me to spend the night in a store?” Brazzleberg’s was an old department store downtown—four floors of stuff people used to buy before the mall came along. I’d heard that it was close to going out of business.
“Yeah, just hide when they lock up and spend the night there. That’s all. Can you handle it?”
“No problem.” It almost seemed too easy. Nobody shopped there anymore, and the people who still worked there didn’t really care what happened.
“We’ll need proof,” Nicky said.
I thought for a second. I’m pretty smart, even if people don’t treat me that way, so it was easy to think up something. “Come to the front entrance a half hour before they open. I’ll be standing there waving at you.”
Nicky grinned. “Cool. See you then.” He punched me on the shoulder—his way of saying good-bye—and walked off. I waited for him to go back inside, then rubbed the spot where he’d hit me.
This was awesome. In less than a day I’d be the newest member of the Wolves. I went home and made up a couple sandwiches to take with me. I couldn’t find any plastic bags, so I wrapped the sandwiches in newspaper and put them in my jacket pocket. Nobody asked what I was up to or when I’d be back. That was no surprise. As long as I didn’t blow the place up or burn it down, they didn’t really care what I did.
I walked to Brazzleberg’s about a half hour before they closed. It was already growing dark by the time I got there. It wasn’t that late, but a bunch of heavy clouds were coming in. I smiled at the thought of rain. It would be pretty funny if I was standing inside all warm and dry, waving to a bunch of wet Wolves getting soaked in a do
wnpour. I’d have to be careful not to be too smug about it.
Nobody paid any attention to me when I walked inside the store. It was near closing time, so everybody was probably thinking about getting out of there and heading home. I took the elevator up to furniture department on the third floor. I found a bed that was covered with a long quilt. Perfect. I made sure no one was watching, then dropped down and rolled under the bed. Just like that, I was in. As I waited for the store to close, I listened to the sound of people walking by and the rumble of thunder in the distance.
Once, some little kid bounced on the bed. I thought about grabbing his ankle when he got off and giving him the scare of his life. It was almost too tempting to resist, but I managed to control myself. Still, it would have been fun to scare the little brat.
After a long, dark wait, I heard them announce that the store was closing. A while later, I peeked out to check. Most of the lights were off, except for some dim night-lights. I was alone. I rolled out from underneath the bed. This was going to be no trouble at all. I looked around for something to do. Across the aisle on one side I saw all kinds of pots and pans and other boring stuff. There was nothing except clothing on the other side.
I sat and ate a sandwich, then wandered over toward the clothes. There was one of those stupid mannequins near the aisle, wearing a fancy dress. “Pleased to meet you,” I said. I reached out and shook her plaster hand.
A crash of thunder startled me. For an instant, the lights flickered off. For an instant I felt—no, it was too crazy. It couldn’t have been. For that tiny fraction of a second when the light was out, the plaster hand I held seemed to become warm flesh. It was like when you put your hand on the ground and suddenly discover there’s a worm underneath it.
I yanked my hand away. I reached to touch the mannequin again, just to make sure it was only plaster, then changed my mind and backed off. No use spooking myself.
