Page 14

*final wish*

I RANG J ACKSON’S DOORBELL and waited, nervous.

I hadn’t seen him since I pulled off his hat in the hallway, because he’d immediately snatched it back and put it on his head. Two seconds after that, Mr. Shields showed up to yell at us for not being in class.

So I had no idea how Jackson was feeling about any of it—my news, its implications, or the fact that I’d seen his blond hair.

But we needed to work together to fix this, and I might’ve found a way.

When my mom dropped us off after school a few minutes ago, I had run straight up to Nana Marie’s room and pulled her address book out of the nightstand. I went right to the T section of the alphabetized notebook, searching for anyone with the initials A. T.

And the very first person on the page?

Archie Todd.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and when I pulled it out, I saw a text from Kennedy.

Kennedy

Is that you on Jackson Matthews’s porch??

Dang it. I turned around, waved toward Kennedy’s house, then replied: Group science assignment. AKA kill me now.

It felt weird lying to Kennedy, but I didn’t know how else to make this make sense to her.

I knew she’d be mad that I was talking about the magic and trying to change it. Allie would be, too, if she found out, because I’d told them a hundred times what Nana had told me a hundred times—don’t talk about the magic, don’t mess with the magic.

Behave as if you’ve never heard of the lore, because one wrong word can ruin everything.

But surely I was allowed to try to right one tiny little wrong.

Surely the powers that be would want the mistake corrected.

I convinced myself of that as I adjusted my backpack (I’d been so distracted by my mission that I’d forgotten to take it off) and waited.

I heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

It was Jackson, but his hat was a little sideways, like he’d rushed to pull it on when he heard the bell.

“Oh, look. It’s my I-believe-in-magic neighbor.”

“Oh, look,” I replied, “it’s the neighbor who stole my wishes. You can take off the hat, by the way—there’s no point in hiding it.”

His eyes narrowed, like he wanted to make a snarky comment, but instead he said, “Go around to the backyard and I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised he was willing to talk to me. I nodded and said, “Okay.”

I walked around the side of his house, taking deep breaths of fresh-cut grass while reminding myself to stay calm. I needed to convince him to help me, so getting mad at his annoying Jackson-ness wasn’t going to help anything.

Just be cool, Emma.

I was also nervous because I wasn’t used to visiting boys I barely knew.

When I opened the gate to their tall wooden privacy fence and entered the backyard, he was already there, casually sitting on a patio chair like he’d been there for hours.

The hat was nowhere to be seen.

And— wow .

Jackson’s hair wasn’t simply blond, it was the most incredible blond I’d ever seen. It was like spun gold. The sun was on him and it made his hair almost shimmer .

“Your hair—”

“Is a lot, right?” He gave me a sarcastic smile, like he was making fun of himself, but there was also a little stress on his face when he said, “I don’t need that much attention.”

Which I understood.

I couldn’t imagine how everyone at school would react to his lustrous head of golden hair. Something like this wasn’t a tiny style change that only a few people would notice. No, this was the kind of thing that every single person in school would be talking about for an entire week.

At least.

“It’s beautiful,” I said breathlessly, unable to look away from it. “I feel like I’ve never seen that color before.”

“But you think it’s meant for you , right?” he asked, and his tone made it clear he still thought I was a magic-believing weirdo about this. “That I stole your cosmic dye job?”

“Oh, I know it is, and you did,” I said, a wave of irritation rushing over me as I realized that I would have been rocking that stunning color if he hadn’t ruined everything. I dropped down into the chair across from him and said, “We need to find a way to reverse the magic. Or at the very least, transfer the rest of it back to me.”

“No way,” he said, giving his head a shake as he scowled at me. “Not that I believe in this town’s lore or your grandma’s bizarre conspiracy theory, but I’m not messing with legends and magic. The last thing I need is for the magical mysticals to replace my head with the head of a frog or something.”

“Your head is fine,” I said calmly. “And there’s been a tiny mistake that we might be able to rectify.”

“No,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “I totally understand that you might not want to lose your new, um, look , but—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop me. “I grew because people do that—they grow. It’s not magic, it’s the biological way that kids end up as adults; they get bigger. I’m sorry you haven’t hit that growth spurt yet, and that you weren’t picked to be a senator or whatever, but we’re talking about a few random and very normal things that I definitely did not ‘steal’ from you.”

“Yes, you did!” I heard myself growl—okay, so maybe he was right about that—before I said, “It’s the only explanation for the senate and for your hair. Like, you can’t tell me it’s a ‘normal thing’ for someone’s hair to change color overnight. How do you explain the hair, Jackson, if there is no magic?”

“Marie Antoinette syndrome,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal, even though there was a wrinkle in his forehead as he said it.

“What?”

His throat moved like he was taking a big swallow before he said, “It’s a genetic disorder where your hair can turn white overnight.”

“But,” I said, looking at him through a squint, “it isn’t white. It’s golden.”

“Close enough,” he snapped, using a tone that told me he wanted to shut down this conversation.

“So you want this hair forever?” I asked, my stomach sinking. Was he really not going to help?

It was very unlikely I could get the wishes to transfer back to me, but without his help, it was impossible.

“Definitely not,” he said. “But hopefully it’ll grow out. That’s what my doctor thinks.”

“Your doctor ? You went to see a doctor about your hair?”

He raised his eyebrows. “When you wake up one day looking like an entirely different person, your parents consult a doctor.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I said, imagining what their reactions must’ve been when he showed up to breakfast with that hair and that height.

“Yeah, it was pretty wild around here. My parents were convinced I was dying or something.”

“Oh my gosh,” I said, my mouth dropping open in surprise, because our situation really was ridiculous. “They’ll be so relieved when we reverse this.”

“Not doing it, Rockford,” he said, shaking his head yet again. “Let it lie.”

“Come on!” I said (shouted, actually). “You can’t be okay with stealing someone’s wishes.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not magic, I didn’t steal anything, and I’m definitely not going to help you attempt some witchy spell reversal.”

“Of course you’re not,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Why would you want to risk losing your cool new appearance? Far better to look good by stealing than look… normal by being noble. I get it. I see you, Jackson Matthews.”

His smirk came back. “You are so dramatic.”

“I am not dramatic!” I yelled, sounding absolutely and totally one thousand percent melodramatic. “If it was only the hair and height—”

“And chest—” he interrupted with a sarcastic grin.

“Please shut up about that,” I bit out, angry and frustrated and terrified he wasn’t going to help me. I took a deep breath and said, “If it was only the things you’ve already stolen from me, I think I could accept that. But my last wish is too important. I need it.”

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up straighter. Suddenly, he looked very interested.

And suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him.

It seemed so babyish, desperately wishing for your mom to find a husband so you could have a real family.

“I can’t say it out loud,” I said, which was the truth. I couldn’t jeopardize the shot of getting my final wish by telling him. “That could ruin the lore.”

“Then I can’t help you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Sorry, Rockie.”

“Please don’t give me terrible nicknames.”

“What? Rockie’s cute,” he said, looking amused.

“Stop trying to be funny when this is important,” I begged, wanting so badly for him to cooperate. “Because it is to me.”

His expression changed, the amusement disappearing, replaced by something more serious, like he cared that this mattered to me. I took a deep breath and wondered— did he care?

He kind of looked like he might.

Or like he’s bored with this entire interaction.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Is there a way you can tell me without saying it out loud?”

“Let me think.” I pulled off my backpack, torn between what I wanted to do and what I needed to do. Because as much as I didn’t want him to know what my babyish final wish was, he sounded more open right now than he had since I’d brought it up.

And maybe when he realized he didn’t want my last wish—his parents were married, so it would be a wasted request—he might consider being selfless and doing the right thing.

Doubtful , but not impossible.

The rule was that you couldn’t tell anyone what your wishes were. So… what if he saw them?

“Hang on.” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my planner. Setting it on the patio table, I flipped through pages until I found the spot where I’d carefully written my four wishes. I put a piece of paper over the first three, so he couldn’t see them, and then I stood.

“Okay, so I’m going to go look at that tree,” I said, giving him a knowing look and pointing at the huge oak in his backyard while gesturing with my head to the planner. “I’m just going to leave my notebook out because I have to write in it when I return. Make sure you don’t look at it.”

He gave me a sarcastic half-smile, like I was ridiculous. “Okay.”

I walked over to the tree, counted to five, then turned around.

But when I looked at Jackson, he wasn’t smiling anymore. He was pacing around the patio, his face a mask of seriousness. His eyes met mine and he said, “How do we stop this?”

“Wait—you’re on board now?” I said, shocked.

He gave a nod, without a hint of sarcasm or smirking.

“Why?” I asked, blown away by the near-instant change in him. “Like, what changed your mind?”

He looked so intense, so upset, that I almost didn’t think he was going to answer. The boy looked too keyed up to speak, honestly.

But then he swallowed, dug his fingers into his hair, and said, “If what you’re saying is true, and what really happened is I am getting your wishes, and your final wish comes true, my parents will get divorced.”

“What?” I squinted and tried seeing into his brain as he looked at me like his world was ending.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you a fictional story, like a hypothetical,” he said, giving me ultradirect eye contact. “Nothing to do with anything real, just a random anecdote.”

Okay, so he was telling me without jeopardizing the lore. That was good, the fact that he was finally taking it seriously.

“Please tell me your fictional story,” I said, dropping down into one of the patio chairs.

“So, one time, on TV, I saw a show where a girl made a wish for one of her parents to meet someone new, fall in love, and live happily ever after, right?”

I nodded. “Right.”

Jackson said, “But her friend was in an entirely different situation. His parents fought all the time and his dad traveled a lot for work.”

His eyes looked sad when he said that, like it bothered him a lot, and even though he was Jackson Matthews , I didn’t like him looking that way.

“He knew it was only a matter of time until they got divorced,” he continued, “because his mom was super unhappy.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, even though I hadn’t meant to say it.

His blue eyes landed on mine and he clenched his jaw and gave me a closed-mouth smile. “Thanks.”

“So,” I said, waiting for him to say it.

“So. If the girl’s friend was to accidentally get her wish—for their mom to meet someone and fall madly in love—that would mean his married mother would meet someone else —”

“And fall in love with them!” I said with a gasp, finishing for him.

“I mean, even if those parents were happily married, this wish would be bad news for them,” he said. “But the way things are right now, it’s catastrophic.”

His mother would meet someone and fall madly in love.

With someone who wasn’t his father.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, still looking stressed out. “So do you know a way that we can stop this?”

“I know someone who might know a way to transfer this,” I clarified. “I don’t think the wishes can be ungranted or stopped, but I think there’s still time to transfer the final one back to me.”

“How much time do we have?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” I said. “The legend is that one wish is granted per week, starting on August fourth. So since you got my appearance changes last week, and my senatorial appointment this week, technically we’re probably safe the rest of this week, although Allie got backflips the same week she got pretty, so it’s not exact.”

“Wait. Allie down the street is a grantee?”

Noooooooooooooooooo!

Had I seriously said that? Had I spoken that out loud?

Did I just ruin Allie’s magic?

“N-no,” I said, telling myself it was fine, that it’d been a slip and her magic was going to be A-okay. “I didn’t say that. It was a joke because she kind of got gorgeous over the summer.”

He stared at me for a second, watching me ramble, and then he said, “I see.”

“Yeah, she’s just the supermodel with the hair and the face,” I said with an awkward laugh, my voice too loud and peppy. “So I called it ‘magic.’ I don’t know why. It’s magical, I guess, haha, what do I know?”

Shut up, Emma!

“So…” he said.

“So I’ll fill you in on everything once I know you’re serious.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and stared into his eyes, trying to gauge if I could trust this person who’d been utterly untrustable since the day he’d hit my wishes with a rock. “So, Jackson—are you actually committed to helping me with this?”

He gave a nod, a solemn agreement that I could tell he meant.

“A thousand percent, because I can not get your final wish,” he agreed. “We cannot let that happen.”

“We cannot,” I agreed, squinting because his hair was blinding me.

“So,” he said, “care to become my magic-fixing partner, Rockie?”

I nodded, a little in shock. “There’s no one else I’d rather be fixing magic with.”

We sat down and went to work after that. I ran home and got Nana Marie’s journals, and he listened carefully as I explained my theories. By the time we were finished, we had a plan.

It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a plan.

A plan that started with Archie Todd, the notorious lunch lady.