Page 13

*hat*

E XCUSE ME, J ACKSON , but I think you might’ve accidentally taken my magical wishes.

No, that sounded absolutely unhinged.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as he zipped up his backpack.

I’m going to need your help reversing the magical spell that’s given you the body of a god, Senator Matthews.

Okay—I definitely wasn’t going to say that .

But it was early—only the second week of the wish-granting—and it seemed like he’d only received my first two wishes so far, so there was still time to try and fix things before he stole the wish that mattered the most.

Because after poring over Nana Marie’s journals for the past few months like a fortune hunter looking for the sunken treasure map, I’d come to learn a lot of random information about the magic. Little one-sentence fragments she’d scrawled out that might mean nothing, but I suspected meant some thing.

And the same one kept popping up in the back of my brain like graffiti ever since I’d noticed the similarities between Jackson’s new appearance and my wishes.

(A. T. made wish to marry architect but fell in love with X during four-month gap. Transferred wish to me on the third day of the fourth month, just in the nick of time.)

It seemed like a random note about a random someone named A. T., and there was no other information in the notebooks about that person, but it gave me hope that maybe there was a way to transfer a wish.

It wasn’t much to go on, information-wise, but this entry gave me a tiny, last-resort notion that it might be possible to reverse this.

But I was going to need his help.

And I wasn’t sure how to make that happen.

He always seemed to smile a big fat bratty grin when I was unhappy, so it was impossible to imagine a scenario that would end in him happily assisting me.

Also, why would he want to reverse the wishes and go back to being a normal version of cute when he was now, like, man-among-boys handsome?

The bell rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin because I needed to talk to him.

Like now .

I turned toward him as he stood and pushed in his stool.

“How’d you quiz?” I blurted out loudly. I fake-laughed and said, “I mean, how did you do on the quiz?”

His eyes narrowed to a squint, like he knew I was up to something. “Fine…?”

“Good,” I said a little too loudly, nodding and smiling, even though there was nothing to smile about. Quit being so awkward! I said, “That’s great.”

“You okay?” he asked, putting his backpack over his shoulder. “You look weird.”

“Your mom looks weird,” I said around a giggle, then shook my head and added, “I mean, she doesn’t. Your mom looks fine. Very normal. I was making a ‘your mom’ joke, not bashing your actual mother.”

Get a grip, Emma Rockford!

“I’m going to go,” he said slowly, pointing in the direction of the door as he smirked like I was a funny little weirdo. “Because I’m not sure what’s going on with you, and I feel like I’m in danger.”

“In danger?” I repeated, feeling confused and embarrassed and so freaking anxious because I needed to fix everything immediately.

“Yeah, you’ve got a whole ticking-time-bomb look on your face, and I don’t want to be here when you blow. Later, Rockford.”

He turned and left the room, and I was torn between wanting to throw my book at the back of his head (because hahaha I’m in danger —you’re so funny, Jackson) and wanting to beg him to shut up and do what I asked.

Instead, I wandered out of the classroom and into the hallway, practicing in my head what I was going to say.

I think there’s been a mix-up, and I need your help.

It was earnest and to the point, so that was probably the best way to frame it.

But I was very worried I was going to sound like a tinfoil-hat-wearing kook once I started explaining the exactitudes of the “mix-up.”

Your pecs should’ve been my pecs, bro. You’re accidentally rocking my chest.

As I walked into the seventh-grade locker area, focused on how I was going to convince him to help me, I accidentally ran into (over) someone crouched in front of their locker.

“Oof,” I grunted, tripping over the person and stumbling, murmuring “sorry” over my shoulder as I struggled to stay upright.

The guy stood to his full height, and when my eyes rose all the way up to his face, I stopped moving and wanted to curse my bad luck.

“It’s you,” I said, thinking of course I ran over Jackson.

Why wouldn’t I?

He smirked, where he wasn’t smiling but his eyes were squinted like he was grinning on the inside. “As if I believe you weren’t coming for me. You were trying to run me over—admit it.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Swear.”

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty torked in Shields’s class.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, not sure where to start with him, how to broach magical subjects.

“Why were you mad at me, by the way? Was it because of the senator thing? Because we can trade. I don’t want it.”

I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to rage at the unfairness of that statement, of him casually saying I don’t want it about something I wanted more than almost anything else in the world.

“See?” he said, pointing at my face. “You keep growling at me.”

Do I? I didn’t think I had, but I felt growly when I looked at him, so it was entirely possible. I said, “I don’t growl.”

“You do, too. What I want to know is why I seem to bring out the growl in you.”

“Well,” I said, nervous to bring up what was sure to make me sound like a loon, “I’m sorry. It’s just, um, something unusual has happened.”

“Unusual, huh?” He looked intrigued. “Tell me all about it.”

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening, but the halls were emptying, so no one was close to us. I inhaled through my nose, trying to remember the first line I’d practiced. Was it I think you accidentally —

“Today, Rockford.”

“Give me a sec,” I snapped, needing to word it exactly right.

“See? You growled again.”

“No, I didn’t!” I replied, even though I totally had.

“Spit it out, will you?” he prodded.

“Fine,” I said, blurting out, “I think there was an accident, and now you’re getting my magical wishes!”

It was like the entire world went quiet as soon as that little unhinged morsel left my mouth.

His dark eyebrows went up. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

Gahhhhhhh, why didn’t I stick to the plan?

I sighed and stepped a little closer, because I didn’t relish sounding like a delusional child, and whispered, “I know Noah told you about the lore of four.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “So…?”

“So last year, at the field trip, when Snurk busted us…? Do you remember that?”

“Of course,” he said, watching me while he grabbed a book out of his locker. “I still have nightmares about that neon storm trooper running at us.”

“Well,” I said, positive he was about to laugh at me, “I was in the middle of making my wishes when you threw a rock that crashed into my wish packet. Do you remember that , by chance? That you threw a rock that hit my rock?”

He stared at me like there was a lot going on in his head, like he was working through some complex scenarios, and then he only said, “Yes.”

“Okay, good.” I was glad he wasn’t looking at me like I’d lost my marbles, but I was pretty sure it was coming. “I know this sounds a little strange, but I think when your rock hit my rock, it screwed up the magic and now you are getting my wishes.”

“No offense, but you sound like a kook right now,” he replied as the bell rang. “Like you’ve totally lost your marbles. You’re saying that you think I got your ‘magical wishes.’”

And he did air quotes, the jerk.

News alert: Jilted seventh grader destroys classmate for egregious use of air quotes. More to follow at six.

“I don’t think it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I know it.”

“You just growled again.”

“I did not !”

“You did,” he said with a smirk. “You should really work on your rage.”

“I don’t have rage.”

“You do , but we can discuss that later,” he said. “For now, enlighten me on whatever this ridiculousness is that you’re all hopped up on.”

“Okay. So. I wished for the seventh grade senator appointment, and you got it. Apparently without even applying.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

So I kept going.

“I wished to grow six inches taller, and you grew six inches overnight .”

“How do you know that ?” he asked, his dark eyebrows scrunching together like he was confused.

“Eavesdropped at lunch,” I admitted. “And your pecs.”

I gestured to his chest with my hand, unsure of exactly how to explain.

He stared at me blankly for a second, like he was waiting for an explanation, and then his mouth slid into a huge grin. “Are you telling me you wished for boobs?”

“Shut up ,” I said through my teeth, hating myself for being foolish enough to admit to that wish.

He started laughing at me, and I was in the process of dying of mortification when he held up a hand and said, “Sorry.”

Only he was still grinning like he thought it was hilarious.

So I said, “Let’s talk about your stupid hat.”

“Um, thank you…?” he replied, putting his hand down. “And for the record, I think I might like the growling better than the straight-up insults.”

He said it with his typical sarcasm, but something on his face changed.

He looked guilty.

“No.” I shook my head and knew it. I knew I was right. That hat was covering another one of my wishes. I pointed my index finger at his skull and said, “I bet your hair is blond under there.”

His smile disappeared completely, and Jackson’s jaw clenched as he watched me without saying a word. A streak of red appeared out of nowhere on his cheekbones, and I saw his throat move around a swallow.

“I wished to be a blonde,” I said, going up on my tiptoes, “so let’s see.”

I pulled off the beanie, and even though I expected it, I gasped as the hat fell to the hallway floor.

Because Jackson Matthews’s thick head of dark hair was now bleached blond.