The Wishbreaker Page 13

  We waited impatiently in the shade. My eye patch switched from the left to the right. Every so often, the Universe forced me to leap to my feet and perform some jumping jacks as a passing car honked.

  “Don’t wear yourself out,” Vale said to me after a near collision caused two drivers to have an angry conversation with their car horns. “I’d hate for you to slow us down any more than you already are.”

  “Hey!” Ridge cut in. “That’s not nice.”

  “She’s right.” I sighed as my jumping jacks ended. “You’d think I’d be better at this since it’s my second time around.”

  “Still,” said Ridge, “Vale shouldn’t be so hard on you. She’s had a lot more experience.”

  “That’s true.” I turned to her. “It must be really frustrating for you to watch Wishmaker after Wishmaker stumble around trying to complete quests.”

  “It can be,” she admitted. “They don’t always do things the way I would.”

  “With all your experience, I bet you’d be a great Wishmaker,” I said.

  She simply scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “I’m serious,” I followed up.

  “That’s a ridiculous idea,” Vale said. “Genies don’t make wishes. We aren’t in charge of making the decisions, just carrying them out.”

  “Do you guys like being genies?” I asked them.

  Ridge shrugged. “We don’t know anything else.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’re missing out,” I said. “All the pressure is on Jathon and me.”

  “So is all the freedom,” said Vale. “We’re just pulled along because we have to be here.”

  Although she didn’t say it, I thought Vale looked a little bit sad in that moment. I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t love being a Wishmaker, but talking to Ridge and Vale made me realize that they actually had it worse. Like Ridge had said on the ski lift, they were really just observers along for the ride, stuck with some inexperienced kid in charge of making all the decisions.

  At last, Ms. Gomez arrived in a rental van. I was kind of disappointed to see that Thackary was in the passenger’s seat. They acted so relieved to have finally found us, completely unaware that it was a fulfillment of my wish.

  The fast food that they brought was a nice bonus, though. Soon, the six of us were chowing down, anxious to make a plan now that we were all reunited with the dagger.

  Ms. Gomez turned the weathered weapon over in her hands and finally slipped it out of the dirty metal sheath. The blade was rusted and corroded, the once-sharp edge dull and rough.

  “Are you going to reactivate it?” I asked.

  Ms. Gomez nodded grimly. She held the dagger lightly across both open palms, the sheath in the grass beside her. “Bazang,” she said.

  Like the string had done in her living room, the dagger twinkled magically for just a moment, before returning to look like the rusty blade we had dug up on the beach.

  “This dagger now has the power to cut through anything,” said Ms. Gomez. “Including a visible tether between genie and Wishmaker.”

  “What happens to you when we use it?” Jathon asked. “You know the consequence?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Every time the dagger is used to cut something, I will shrink.”

  “But you’ll get big again, right?” Ridge asked, dipping his fries in ketchup.

  Ms. Gomez shook her head. “This consequence is permanent.”

  “How tiny will you get?” I had shrunk down to three inches once. It wasn’t too bad, but I wouldn’t want to stay that way.

  “I’ll get one inch smaller for every item that the dagger cuts through,” she said.

  “That’s not so bad,” I said with a relieved sigh.

  “Maybe not so bad for a tall person,” she said. “I’m only five foot four inches.”

  “Luckily, we only need to cut through one little piece of string,” said Jathon.

  “How does five foot three sound?” Ridge asked her.

  “Worth it,” said Ms. Gomez, “if it means setting my daughter free from Chasm and sending him back into his jar.” She picked up the protective sheath and slipped the old blade safely inside.

  “But the dagger isn’t going to help us at all unless we get that spool of string back from Chasm,” I said.

  “Unless he already used it for whatever evil plan he’s cooking up,” said Ridge, sipping his soda through a straw.

  “I don’t know what he’s planning,” said Ms. Gomez, “but Chasm definitely hasn’t used the string to tie onto Tina.”

  “How can you be sure?” Ridge asked.

  “Consequences,” she said. “If he had used the string, my ankles would be tied together.”

  “Yarr!” exclaimed Thackary. “Ye be our very own alarm system.”

  “We’re running out of time,” said Jathon, who looked terribly uncomfortable eating a hamburger on horseback. “I’ve got less than twenty-four hours to complete this quest. Tomorrow makes a week from the time I opened Vale’s pickle jar.”

  “Really?” Ridge said. “Man, this week really flew by.”

  “That’s what happens when you spend three days in a vault,” said Vale.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Ridge. “That consequence really bombed us.”

  “Consequence?” Jathon wadded his hamburger wrapper into a ball. “What consequence?”

  “Nothing!” I snapped. “Nothing at all.”

  “Umm . . .” said Ridge. “I meant to say fonsequence.”

  “Fonsequence isn’t a word!” Jathon said.

  Vale squinted suspiciously at me. “Something happened when you wished to slow down the conveyor belt.”

  At the mention of the word, Jathon somehow managed to spin in a circle while seated in the saddle.

  I could tell that my secret was about to come out. “It would have been fine if the spool of string hadn’t gone into the back room.”

  “What happened?” Jathon asked.

  “Time outside the vault sped up,” I finally confessed.

  “Blackberry cherry!” cursed Ms. Gomez. “It makes so much sense now.”

  “I was going to tell you guys,” I said. “I was just waiting for the right time.”

  Jathon had a hand to his forehead. “I’m going to fail my quest,” he muttered. “The air is going to turn into chocolate sauce and everyone is going to choke because you made a stupid wish.”

  “To be fair, my wish was pretty smart,” I said. “It was the consequence that was stupid.”

  “We need more time!” said Jathon. “We don’t even know where to start looking for Tina and Chasm.”

  “Actually, I might be able to help with that.” I dug my hand into my pocket for Tina’s note. A rat crawled out, startling everyone. It grabbed one of Ridge’s fries and ran off.

  I held out the crumpled note that Tina had passed me in the Library of Wight and Wong. “This is the address to Chasm’s hideout.”

  Ms. Gomez snatched the little paper out of my hand, studying her daughter’s strained handwriting. “A miniature golf course outside of Nashville,” she said. “We can get there by morning if we drive through the night.”

  “I see a problem with that plan,” Jathon said. We all turned to him and he patted his horse on the neck. “I’m stuck in the saddle until morning.”

  “What be the problem?” asked the boy’s dad. “If ye don’t fit in the car, we sail away without ye.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “It’s Jathon’s quest. He has to be the one to save Tina.”

  I hiccuped when Jathon laughed at the sound of his name.

  “There be no harm in getting there before the boy,” continued Thackary. “Give me a chance to look things over.”

  “That sounds awfully suspicious,” said Ridge. “I still can’t believe we trust this guy.”

  “We don’t,” I said. “He almost ruined our quests last time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to ruin them again.”

  Thackary burst into
laughter, causing me to hiccup. “Ruin yer pitiful quest?” he said. “Ye aren’t even serious about completing it!”

  “I wasn’t,” I admitted. “But I learned something that changed my mind.” I glanced at Ms. Gomez. “The Universe wouldn’t give me a useless quest. Sure, I might not be saving the world, so it probably doesn’t matter to any of you guys. But I know that my quest matters to one person.”

  “You?” Jathon asked.

  “Samuel Sylvester Stansworth,” I answered. So, yeah. Me.

  “Did you find this Samuel?” Ms. Gomez asked.

  “Mr. Wong was this close to telling us his family’s address.” I held my fingers an inch apart.

  “But then he turned into a statue,” added Ridge.

  “I told you not to say meanwhile,” she said.

  “It was an accidental compound word,” said Ridge. “Besides, turning into stone probably saved his life when Chasm burned the place.”

  “Unless turning into stone killed him,” I pointed out.

  “Mr. Wong will be fine,” said Ms. Gomez. “He only stays that way for twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ll have almost a full day after Jathon’s quest ends,” I said. Jathon laughed and I hiccuped. “Hopefully that’s enough time to complete mine.”

  “It’s not going to be easy to feed a sandwich to Samuel . . . whatever-his-name-is, if you don’t know where he lives,” Vale said.

  “You’re right,” I said, looking at Ridge. “Guess it’s time to find out, so I’ll be ready. I wish to know where Samuel Sylvester Stansworth’s parents live.” I glanced down at my wrist as my hourglass came into play.

  “If you want to know their address,” said Ridge, “then anytime you meet a new adult, you’ll only be able to see their feet.”

  Ah. I see what the Universe did there. I was wishing to find my parents, but I wouldn’t be able to see their faces. Still, they’d be able to recognize me.

  “How long will it last?” I asked.

  “For the rest of the year,” answered Ridge.

  Find my parents, but only be able to study their feet? Totally worth it.

  “Bazang.”

  It was silent for a moment as the Universe filled my mind with new information. The Stansworths’ address came into my mind as though I’d known it for years. Probably because I had.

  “Well?” Ms. Gomez asked.

  “Atlanta,” I said. “Georgia.” I even knew the street name and house number.

  “Hey,” said Ms. Gomez. “We have to drive right through Atlanta on our way to Nashville.”

  “Maybe we could stop along the way,” I suggested.

  “We don’t have time for Ace to make a social call,” Jathon said. “My quest is far more important.”

  “But wait,” I said, an exciting idea dawning on me. “Maybe you can drop me off and I can catch up before you reach the mini golf park.”

  “How would you do that?” Vale asked. “Chasm stopped you from magical travel.”

  “One Thousand and One Nights,” I said. “If Ms. Gomez leaves me with the book, I can find the Stansworths, complete my quest, and use the book to teleport to the library, and then to you.”

  “Arrr!” cried Thackary. “Multitasking.”

  “It’s a good idea, muchacho,” Ms. Gomez said. “I think your plan might work.”

  Chapter 16

  “Sure you don’t want me to drop you at the house?” Ms. Gomez asked as the rental van pulled to a stop in the grocery store parking lot. My eye patch was finally gone, and I squinted against the bright sun.

  “This will be fine,” I said. “The Stansworths are just down the street.” I felt like I needed to make the approach on my own. Besides, I needed a few supplies in order to complete my little quest.

  Ridge yanked open the sliding door and jumped out into the hot mid-afternoon. We’d been driving for hours, after spending the night in a decent hotel. The hotel’s free breakfast had been pretty good, and we‘d taken leftovers to cover our lunch in the car.

  I glanced at Jathon as I climbed out of the minivan. He and Vale were fast asleep in the backseat. It was incredible that they hadn’t awakened with Ms. Gomez singing off-tune opera at every stoplight. But those two were totally wiped out, having spent last night in the parking lot because the hotel had a strict “no horses allowed” policy.

  As I slid the door shut, Thackary leaned out the passenger window. “’Bout time we be getting rid of ye meddling boys.”

  “Yeah, we’ll miss you, too,” I said sarcastically.

  “Ye always be hindering me plans.”

  “Plans?” I said. “What plans?”

  Thackary quickly rolled up his window just as Ms. Gomez came around the front of the minivan.

  “I’m worried about Thackary,” I said to her. “I’m afraid he’s planning something. Something that could cause the rest of you trouble.”

  “I’m sure he is,” said Ms. Gomez. She glanced at the backseat of the minivan where Jathon and Vale were sleeping. “Thackary’s angry. He’s mean, and he can’t do anything good.”

  “That’s what we’ve been saying,” I said.

  “You need to dump that guy on the roadside,” said Ridge.

  “I can’t,” said Ms. Gomez. “Thackary Anderthon was one of the nicest boys I ever knew.”

  Ridge and I stared at her as though she’d just said the moon was made of cheese.

  “Him?” Ridge pointed through the car window at the man in the passenger seat. “Nice?”

  “I have to believe that he can be kind again,” she whispered.

  “What aren’t you telling us?” I asked. Ms. Gomez clearly knew something about Thackary that the rest of us didn’t.

  “I can’t say,” she answered.

  Thackary knocked on the passenger window, his sneering face an inch away from the glass as he gestured for Ms. Gomez to hurry up.

  “I should go,” she said. “Tina is lucky to have you as a friend. And I believe that you can complete your quest and still be there to help us take down Chasm.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Ms. Gomez reached out to press something into my hand. It was a twenty-dollar bill.

  “What’s this for?” I asked.

  “Buy yourself a nice loaf of bread,” she answered. “Samuel deserves the best sandwich you can make.”

  The minivan peeled away from the parking lot, and Ridge and I headed into the grocery store. I had a little freak-out as I stepped through the entrance. Sputtering, I slapped at my own face frantically.

  “Are you okay?” Ridge asked.

  “Just walked through a cobweb,” I answered, regaining composure. “It didn’t get you?”

  He shrugged. “Nope. Wasn’t my consequence.”

  We wandered around the store for a moment before finding the bread aisle. “Do you think Samuel likes white or wheat?” Ridge asked.

  “Let me ask him.” I paused. “He said white.” I grabbed a loaf of soft-looking bread.

  “You’re sure about this?” Ridge asked.

  “About white bread?” I replied.

  “About you being Samuel Sylvester Stansworth.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, stopping in front of a shelf lined with jars of peanut butter. There were chunky and smooth. So many brands. I knew which one I liked best, so I grabbed it off the shelf. Grape jelly would be tasty, too, so I picked some that came in a convenient squeeze bottle.

  “You heard Mr. Wong’s story,” I said as we headed for the checkout line. “The dates line up perfectly with my memory loss. And I’ve decided that magic is the only thing that could wipe my mind like this. It must have had something to do with the Unknown Consequence.”

  I handed my sandwich supplies to the cashier. She must have been only seventeen years old, since I could look her in the face. She scanned the items and halfheartedly announced my total. I handed her Ms. Gomez’s twenty-dollar bill, and she gave me change.

  “You know, you might have already completed your quest,”
Ridge said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked as the cashier bagged my purchased items.

  “Well, we ate a ton of peanut butter sandwiches on your last quest.”

  We exited the store, cobwebs assaulting my face as I danced my way across the sidewalk.

  “I thought about that, too,” I said, once I got control again. “But those sandwiches wouldn’t have counted. First, I hadn’t been given this quest yet. And second, none of those sandwiches would’ve counted because, technically, the Universe made all of them. In order to complete the quest, I have to put the sandwich together myself.”

  I stopped in the parking lot and placed my supplies on the hood of a random white car. Opening the plastic bread bag, I pulled out two slices, laying them on the hot metal hood.

  “What are you doing?” Ridge asked.

  “I’m making a peanut butter sandwich,” I said.

  “Here?”

  “The Stansworths’ house is just down the block. I want to be prepared.” I grinned at him. “We’re going to meet my family, Ridge. I’ve always wanted to have lunch with my mom and dad.”

  I opened the ordinary jar and swiped my index finger through the sticky peanut butter, smearing the glob onto one of the bread slices.

  “That is not how you make a sandwich,” Ridge said, looking away with disgust. “That’s called finger painting. Besides, that’s too much peanut butter. It’s going to be so dry!”

  “Since when did you become the PB and J expert?” I squeezed some of the purple jelly on top of the peanut butter. Then I picked up the other slice of bread, nicely warmed from sitting on the hot car, and set it in place, finishing the sandwich.

  “I’m disappointed in your peanut-butter-to-jelly ratio, Ace,” Ridge said.

  “Would you relax?” I placed the finished sandwich back in the plastic bread bag and tied it closed. “I’m the one who has to eat it.” I zipped all the supplies into my backpack, and dusted a few crumbs off the car I had used as a table.

  “Good thing you didn’t make extra sandwiches for the Stansworths,” Ridge muttered. “They’d never accept you as their son if they tasted your creations.”