I Wish That Boy Hadn’t Seen Me Crying
Shue was running on the sidewalk. Her arms were filled with books. She was making a strange sound; it took me a second to figure it out—she was crying. Something about this seemed familiar. I looked behind me, and in the far distance I saw a figure walking away. Was it Ashley? Wasn’t this the street where the girls always passed each other? I ran to catch up with Shue. All of a sudden she tripped and fell. Her books flew off in all directions. She lay in a heap in the middle of the sidewalk, not moving, and then groaned and sat up.
“Are you okay?” asked a voice.
It was a boy. I didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t one of Ashley’s brothers. Shue nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll help you,” said the boy. He bent down and started to pick up the books. “I go to your school,” he said.
Shue nodded again. She wasn’t talking, but she had stopped crying. Together they picked up Shue’s things, and when she had her arms full again, the boy turned to leave.
“Thanks,” said Shue. Her hair was in front of her face, hiding her eyes. Did the boy know she’d been crying? He walked down the street ahead of her, then turned and shouted, “I’ll see you later.”
She half waved back, and I slowly faded away. This time was not like last time—there was no great pain, just a slow, uncomfortable tingle, like the last drizzle of something unpleasant. I sat in the chair and waited—for what, I don’t know. It was hard to believe this was the end. It was disappointing. It hadn’t been the wish to end all wishes. I still didn’t know about Ashley, and now I’d never know. I thought back to the wish and went over it. It had no relevance. I’d forgotten to say the test words, but that didn’t matter now. Everything was over. Suddenly Claire was calling down to me. I shoved the wish into my pocket and went up; the yard sale was starting.
From the minute it opened, the sale was a success, and I had the feeling that Mom had found a whole new thing to love—yard sales. She couldn’t believe how much money she was making, but more than that, she was excited that her junk was making other people happy. My job was easy: help sell stuff and keep an eye on Claire.
I was pretty easy to bargain with. If someone said, I’ll give you twenty cents for that, even if the price was a dollar, I’d say okay.
“How much is this?” Claire shoved something yellow in my face.
It was too close to see. I pushed her hand away. I was right in the middle of helping two other people, one with books and the other with cups. We were busy, and there were too many people asking questions. I caught Claire’s eye and held up my hand.
“I’m helping this lady. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“Can she have it for ten cents?” asked Claire.
I almost nodded but changed my mind and looked over to see what she was holding.
“It’s ugly,” said Claire.
She was talking to the little girl standing next to her.
“Are you sure you don’t want something else?”
I gasped. It couldn’t be. But there it was, right in Claire’s hand—a duck statue, just like the one in the wishes. The one that Ashley and Shue hid in each other’s rooms.
“Where did you get that?” I was almost yelling.
The little girl took two steps back and looked around. I was scaring her.
I snatched it away from Claire. “I’m sorry—this isn’t for sale.” I held it tight, as if they would try to pry it away from me.
Claire looked surprised and then she scowled. She took the little girl by the hand and led her away.
“Come on, let’s find you something even better, and you can have it for free.”
Where did she get this? I looked around, but it could have come from anywhere. Suddenly Mom was standing next to me.
She pointed to the statue. “What are you doing with that?”
Maybe she knew? Maybe she could point me to the right box. Maybe it would be a box with clues. Maybe even clues about Ashley.
I held it up. “A little girl had this. Do you know where she got it? Which box?”
Mom shook her head.
“It’s not from a box.” She took it from me and smiled. “It used to be mine, but I don’t need it anymore.”
I wanted to say something, but suddenly I was numb. I couldn’t talk. It belonged to Mom? THIS WAS MOM’S DUCK? Another coincidence? Mom put the duck down on the table and looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
It wasn’t easy, but I made myself move my head up and down. She smiled, turned, and walked over to help some people looking at a set of dishes. As soon as she was gone, I grabbed the duck and ripped its head off. I gasped again. There was a slip of paper inside. This was the duck! The duck from the wishes. I pulled the paper out and read it. IT WAS ASHLEY’S HANDWRITING! My legs felt wobbly. I held on to the table for support. The note had eight words on it. And they were the perfect words for Shue. “I am sorry for being a bad friend.” Wait, the right words for Shue? Did that mean the right words for Mom?
Was Mom Shue? Then who was Ashley? Was that who I was named after? The maybe-dead girl? I felt sick, and dizzy, and suddenly the world seemed distant and quiet, and then I was gone.
The first face I saw was Mom’s. She was calling my name and touching my head. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she had Shue’s voice. Not exactly the same, but now that I knew what to listen for, I could hear it. After what seemed like twenty questions about what hurt and what didn’t, she finally let me sit up. She was really worried. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick? Does your head hurt?”
I shook my head and smiled. She was Shue. Mom was Shue! I was grinning like crazy, I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t lost Shue; she was right here standing over me.
Mom looked at me and frowned. “Are you sure you feel okay? Why are you smiling?”
Suddenly I heard another familiar voice—Sam. I tried to jump up, but Mom made me get up slowly. I let her hold my arm. Seconds later Claire was introducing everyone. I couldn’t stop looking at Mom. It was like seeing her for the first time. She was the same Mom, but now things were different—completely different.
Mom pointed to Sam’s hand. “Did you bring that for the sale?” Sam put his hand behind his back.
He looked embarrassed. “No, it’s sort of for Ash.”
He was having trouble talking in front of Mom. Mom noticed too, because she suddenly pointed to the far side of the driveway and said she had to get over there and help out. That was nice of her. When Mom was gone, Sam held up what was in his hand. It was the clown tray from the thrift store. I was shocked. I didn’t know what to say.
Suddenly Claire noticed it too. “Hey, you found another one!”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not another one. It’s the same one from the thrift store.” He looked at me, and back at Claire. “Ash forgot it the day she was there.” He handed it to me. “But it’s probably too late to send it to Lucy.”
I took it and smiled. He’d bought it for me. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never have thought I’d be happy to hold the clown tray, but I was. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Thanks—I can still send it. We’ll do it today.”
It was true. Claire and I had one last trip to the VS Depot later today, to say good-bye. The tray could be my last present for Lucy. And it was strangely perfect, because it was the start of the story. And I was going to tell her everything. I’d decided this morning. It was too much to keep to myself.
Sam hung around the yard sale for most of the afternoon. He didn’t buy anything, but we had fun selling things together. Before he left, he gave me his address, and I promised to send him at least three postcards. He seemed happy, and that made me happy too.
When the sale was over, I found a Sharpie and wrote a note to Lucy on the back of the tray. I wanted to write something intriguing, but I couldn’t think of anything. All I could come up with was “I have a story to tell you.” When I was done, I decided that creepy clown on the other side m
ade it seem mysterious—not in the way I’d envisioned it, but it was better than nothing.
The day was moving faster than I’d planned. I had a million questions for Mom, but I couldn’t just ask them. I had to do it right. Why was her name Shue? What happened to Ashley? Was I named after Ashley? I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to the last question. Who wants to find out you’re named after someone you don’t like?
chapter thirty-nine
Good-bye
Claire and I were rushing to maneuver the bike past all the remnants of the yard sale. Mostly it was empty boxes, but still it was kind of like an obstacle course. The VS Depot closed at five, and it was already after four. Just before we left, Claire leaned over and handed me something. It was the yellow duck. “You dropped it when you fell,” she said.
She pointed to the head. “I put it back on.”
I took it, pulled off the head, and looked inside; the paper was gone. For a moment I was disappointed.
“Did I do it wrong?” Claire looked worried.
I smiled, pushed the head back on, and put it in my pocket. “No, it’s good. And thank you for saving it for me.” I was glad to have it.
We got on the bike and were off. The tray was too big for my backpack, so I had to use Dad’s belt again. This time Claire wasn’t happy about the eyes looking at her while we were riding. Clown eyes weren’t as friendly as owl eyes. Halfway there I had to stop and turn the tray around so the clown face was next to my shirt. I couldn’t blame her. It was creepy. When we got to the VS Depot, she jumped off the bike, but this time she didn’t run in; she waited for me. I was surprised, but I didn’t say anything. Maybe she was like me—recognizing that this was the last time we’d do this together. As we walked into the store, she took my hand and held it. At first we didn’t see Peter. There were two men in the store, and they were behind the counter working on something. When we got closer, I could see that they were taking the ramp apart. All of a sudden I shivered, but it wasn’t cold—it was sadness.
“Hi, girls!” It was Peter. He caught us by surprise; he was standing off to the side of the front door. I wasn’t used to him not being on the ramp, so seeing him short felt a little strange. I was used to looking at his face, not at the top of his head. But I tried to act like I didn’t notice anything different. I smiled and held up the tray. Peter walked over to the counter, and we followed. He said something to the guys working on the ramp, and they left. I was glad. I wasn’t used to having other people around, and I wanted our last time together to be the same as it always was—just us. I didn’t notice it at first, but Claire hadn’t said a word since we’d walked in. I looked at her but couldn’t tell anything.
I put the tray on the counter, clown side up. Peter took one look at it and jumped back. Claire laughed.
Peter scowled. “I don’t like clowns.”
I thought he might be joking, but he was serious. I turned the tray over. He shook his head and pushed it onto the scale. He didn’t say anything else until it was stamped and in the mailing bin behind him. Claire and I were quiet too, like there was some clown curse on all of us to be silent. When Peter turned back to the counter, he was his old self again.
He winked at us and said, “I have things for you.” He bent down under the counter.
Suddenly I was feeling bad; I was going to make him a card but I’d totally forgotten. Claire didn’t have anything for him either. We looked at each other, not saying anything but probably feeling the exact same way—guilty. When Peter popped up again, he had three packages for Claire and two for me.
Claire was excited about her presents. She got the giant goldfish poster from the wall, a book of blank postcards, and a secret thing that was in an envelope that she said she’d show me later. She seemed extra excited about the secret thing, but I didn’t have time to wonder about it, because Peter had just handed me something amazing that I was not at all expecting. It was a book, but not a regular book—it was an advance reader’s copy of a book. I’d seen that kind of book before; the librarian at school sometimes got them. I read the name on the cover and screamed. It was Willow’s Wondrous World, by PJ Walker. It was the new PJ Walker book, and I was holding it before it was even in the stores.
“This is amazing!” Now I was like Claire, full of questions. But Peter held up his hand and opened the book to the title page. There was an inscription: “For Ash, Believe, Trust, and Hope, PJ Walker.” At first it was exciting, but a second later I recognized the handwriting. Now it was unbelievable. It was the same handwriting that was all over the store. Could it be? My friend was PJ Walker? I looked up at Peter, and he nodded. I wanted to say thank you, but instead tears were suddenly streaming down my face, and I couldn’t control them. Peter patted my hand and pushed a box of tissues toward me. After a few seconds he and Claire started talking again—that helped, hearing their voices. When I was finally calmed down, and after I had used up most of the tissues, Peter handed me the second package. I opened it. It was a notebook with lined paper, some writing paper, and a bunch of stamped envelopes. I don’t know why, but we didn’t say anything more about the book. Somehow I knew we weren’t supposed to talk about it. We both knew the truth, but to anyone else it was a mystery. I smiled; I was good at secrets now.
Peter pointed to the notebook. “Claire told me you like to write stories.” He patted the envelopes and the writing paper and winked at Claire. “And if you ever want to write to anyone, here are the supplies.”
“They’re for writing to me!” shouted Claire. I nodded.
Suddenly the two guys were back, and it was time to go. Peter walked us to the door. Claire gave him a hug, but I felt strange about that. Peter offered me his hand, and I shook it—that felt better. He watched us get on the bike.
It felt weird, this good-bye forever. Was this it? Were we never going to see him again?
Claire must have been thinking the same thing, because she said, “Can we do this again next summer?”
Peter thought for a minute and nodded. “And until then, if you want to, you can write to me at the shop.” He pointed to his store.
Claire looked at me.
“Do you promise?”
It was a big promise to make—three weeks next summer—but I only had to think about it for a second.
I put my hand over my heart, looked her straight in the eye, and said, “I promise.” I made another promise too, but this one was not for Claire; it was to myself. And even though it was silent, I knew I would keep it. I had to. No more lying.
We waved at Peter one last time, and we were gone, pedaling home.
As soon as we got home, we showed Mom our presents. She was impressed, but not as excited as me—PJ Walker wasn’t her favorite author.
Dad took Claire out for dinner so Mom could help me pack. It was a good idea, and I was glad to have some time alone with her. I pulled the duck out of my pocket and put it on my dresser. It was going to be my prop—the way to ask Mom questions without her getting suspicious. When she brought my suitcase down from the attic, I was ready.
I pointed to the duck. “That used to be yours, right? Where did you get it?”
For a second Mom didn’t say anything, then she smiled. “You’re not going to want to keep it when I tell you.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s okay. Just tell me.”
Mom looked at me one more time and shook her head. “I found it in a Dumpster, with my friend Ashley.”
She was expecting me to be shocked, but I wasn’t, and I couldn’t fake it. I had to smile. It was so cool. I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Is it the Ashley I’m named after?” I crossed my fingers. Would she tell me what I wanted to know? Did Ashley live? Or did she die?
Mom nodded and looked sad. I covered my mouth. Oh, no, Ashley had died! I wasn’t expecting that. Suddenly it all came back to me—the way I’d felt at the accident. I turned away from Mom, picked up a shirt, and tried to fold it. I couldn’t let her see my face.
Mom reached over and put her hand on the shirt. I stopped folding.
“I should have told you this before, but my friend Ashley was Claire’s mother.”
What? My body froze as my brain tried to understand what she was saying, and then I was relieved.
“She didn’t die!” I blurted it out without thinking. If Ashley was Claire’s mom, that meant the car didn’t kill her.
Mom shook her head. “No, she died.”
Suddenly I realized my mistake, but it was too late to take it back. We sat there for a minute in silence, Mom waiting for me to look up, and me getting more confused. It didn’t make sense. Claire’s mom was the Ashley from the wishes? Claire hadn’t said her mom’s name was Ashley, and I knew Claire—that was something she definitely would have mentioned.
Finally Mom sighed and said, “When Ashley was fourteen, she changed her name to Alex. She was in a car accident.” Mom paused for a moment. “We had some problems. We weren’t as close after that.”
Mom didn’t say anything more. I nodded like I understood, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Even though I’d watched it happen, I didn’t know how she felt. I’d never lost a friend like that. Lucy was leaving, but it was different—I wasn’t losing her; she was just going to live somewhere different. It wasn’t the same; we were still going to be friends. Distance wasn’t going to pull us apart.
Dreamer, Wisher, Liar Page 20
