Cloudy with a Chance of Boys (2 page)

Alex came back waving one of her teen magazines at us and carrying a small box. Her eyes looked even greener than usual in the eerie glow of the flashlight.

“We don’t have to take one of your quizzes, do we?” I asked, trying to dig a splinter from my finger in the firelight.

“Some quizzes are cool,” said Joey.

“No, not a quiz. It’s this thing we were going to do at the sleepover, but you have to have a real fire. So tonight is perfect.”

I felt a shiver. The hairs on my arms stood up. This was going to be good.

“Joey, hold the flashlight. Okay, it’s right here on page fifty-seven,” said Alex, squinting to see.

Joey looked over her shoulder and read the headline. “
How to Get Noticed by a Boy
?” She said it like a question. “No way!” she protested. “I’m not putting gunk on my face. And I’m not putting curlers in my hair. And I’m definitely not brushing on any shadows to make my nose look smaller, because — guess what? — not every girl in the world has nose envy!”

“Chill out, Stressarella. No makeup. Honest.” Alex held up her hand like she was taking a solemn oath. “It’s cool. See, you follow the directions, it tells you right here —”

“But Stevie and I don’t care about boys, do we, Stevie?” Joey gave me a look that pleaded,
Back me up, here.

I looked down at my palm. I didn’t answer. I went back to working on the splinter in my finger. It’s not like I’m boy crazy or anything — not like Olivia and half the girls in my grade. But I
was
a little curious to hear what Alex had to say.

“It doesn’t have to be about boys,” said Alex. “It can be about anything. It’s just a way to make something happen that you want to come true. Like a wish,” she said to Joey.

“You mean like a magic spell?” asked Joey.

“Um . . . sure,” said Alex. “It’ll be like the three witches in
Macbeth.
”

“Can’t we just wish on a wishbone like normal people?” said Joey.

“BORing,” said Alex, imitating Joey.

“Okay, but I’m only doing it if we get to say ‘eye of newt’ and stuff,” Joey said.

“Sure!” said Alex. “Then we get to throw stuff in the fire! It’ll be cool, right, Stevie?”

“I guess,” I said. There had been a momentary calm, but now the angry storm was picking up outside again. “As long as we don’t have to burn our fingernail clippings or anything creepy like that. And you’re not getting a lock of my hair, or my baby tooth. And no blood. And definitely no dancing around in our underwear!”

“Same here,” said Joey. “All that stuff Stevie said.”

“Nothing like that, you guys. But I do have some incense we can burn. Winterforest Dewberry or Cherry Manlove?”

“Is that really what they’re called?” I asked, taking the box from Alex and holding it up to my nose. “Uck. They
both
smell like wet dog hair.”

“Cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry,” Joey chanted. I guess she didn’t hear the “manlove” part.

“Cherry it is,” said Alex. “And we already have candles and a fire.”

When had my sister the Drama Queen turned into a Pyro Queen? Alex Reel, Pyromaniac, at your service.

“Step one. First we have to close our eyes and take three deep breaths,” Alex instructed us. “Concentrate. Focus. Think of something you want to happen. Then picture it in your mind’s eye.”

I closed my eyes. Something I would like to happen?
Have an extra-cheese pizza appear before me. Get an A on my Earth Science project. Not have to clean my room.

“Can it be something we
don’t
want to happen?” I asked.

“Shh,” said Alex.

If I had one wish, what would it be? To have the lights come back on so I don’t have to do this? I wish . . . I wish . . . why can’t I think of anything to wish? I wish my hair would grow . . . Lame-o. Think, Stevie, think.

A low rumble of thunder sent a chill through me, raising the hair on my arms. “Open your eyes,” said Alex in a spooky voice. She read from the magazine again. “Step two. Keeping the person in mind, think of an object related to that person. Choose something close to your heart that has special meaning. Step three. Say the magic words, close your eyes, and toss your Special Object into the fire.”

“Person? What person?” Joey asked. “You mean a boy? You said it wasn’t about boys. You so lie.”

“It just means — never mind. I forgot we’re not doing the boy thing. So think of the
thing
you wish to happen, and pick an object to throw in the fire. But it has to be something you like a lot. Something personal. Something that’s hard to give up. Otherwise it won’t work.”

“Says who?”

“Says step number three, right here.” Alex jabbed the magazine with her finger. “You guys take the other flashlight. Let’s go find our good luck charms.”

“But I don’t have a wish!” I called after Alex, but she was already headed for the stairs.

Joey and I climbed the stairs behind Alex. Alex went straight to her room and came back with an old shoebox full of baby stuff and mementos. In no time, Joey was ready too.

But I bounced the beam around our room, looking for something, anything, to throw into the fire. An old journal, a cooking contest ribbon, a cupcake candle I got in my Christmas stocking? School picture? A picture of Act Two, our old dog? My last report card? Friendship bracelet from Olivia? It was kind of hard to choose, since I really didn’t know what to wish.

In the distance, I could hear an emergency siren.

Then, in the beam of my flashlight, I caught sight of a troll doll with neon-green hair and a diamond in its belly, giving me the evil eye.

Perfect! Mom once told me that trolls were supposed to be good luck. I grabbed the troll doll by its green hair. Who didn’t want to wish for good luck?

We crept back downstairs and all three of us crouched in front of the fire.

“Alex, what did you pick?” Joey asked eagerly.

“Um . . . it’s a secret,” said Alex. “You’re not supposed to tell, or show your Special Object to anybody. Keep it in your pocket or behind your back till we’re ready.”

“What magic words should we say?” Joey asked.

“How about if I say the ‘Double, double, toil and trouble’ part, then you guys answer, ‘By the pricking of my thumbs / Something wicked this way comes.’”

Branches scratched against the window like fingernails on a chalkboard. I felt a shiver up my back.

“Too creepy,” Joey said.

“Okay . . .” said Alex, in a thin voice. “How about, ‘Come you spirits, make my blood thick —’”

“No blood!” I reminded Alex.

“C’mon, you guys. You’re wrecking the mood.”

“Yeah, Joey, stop wrecking the mood,” I teased. I wiggled my troll doll in her face to spook her.

“Hey, she showed us her Special Object. You’re not supposed to show us your Special Object,” said Joey. “Do you think the magic will still work, Alex?”

“It’ll work,” Alex said. “Okay, you guys. Be serious. This is it. Close your eyes. I’m going to say something in Shakespeare, and you can’t fight me on it. Then I’ll count to three. On the count of three, open your eyes, and we each toss our Special Objects into the fire at the same time. Ready? Remember, the most important part is you have to
believe.
”

I closed my eyes. The darkness heightened every sound — wind whipping through the trees outside, the ticking of the old mantel clock, my sisters’ breathing. My own heart thumping.

That’s when I knew I wanted to wish for something besides just ordinary good luck. It was probably just hocus-pocus, but somehow — call it the storm, the dark, the firelight — this felt bigger than a birthday-candle wish.

I’d wish for . . . something new and exciting to happen to me. Something different. Something daring. Like when I tried out to be in the musical
Once Upon a Mattress.
Or entered a Cupcake Cooking Contest.

Alex made her voice soft and spooky again. “‘Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires.’”

Thunk!
“What was that?” I asked.

“Just a branch hitting the roof,” said Alex.

I opened one eye and peeked. A reflection of firelight flickered in the troll doll’s eyes. Alex was holding a play program from
Beauty and the Beast,
and Joey had an origami frog in her hand.

“One . . . two . . . three . . .”
Boom!
A loud crack of thunder shook the house just as we opened our eyes and tossed our Special Objects into the fire. I jumped. Joey screamed and grabbed onto Alex. A streak of lightning flashed blue and the fire flared up. Tongues of flame licked the edges of Alex’s program and
poof,
it disappeared into ash. Joey’s frog went up in smoke. The troll doll melted quicker than the Wicked Witch.

All of a sudden, a string of pearl-size goose bumps ran up and down my spine. A thrilling kind of tickle at the base of my neck needled me. I scratched it, as if touching it might make it go away.

Maybe it was just the dark, the night, the storm. The gleam in my sister’s eye. What was Alex playing at? Wasn’t this just a game? What if we had done something, started something, called on something — unleashed something invisible, something bigger than us, this room, this night?

“Joey, I thought that was your favorite origami frog,” I said to break the spell. “The one you got to jump the best.”

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to see,” said Joey.

“It doesn’t matter. We all know anyway,” I said.

“Nuh-uh,” said Joey. “Nobody knows what Alex threw in the fire.”

“But we all know what she wished for,” I said.

Alex’s head snapped around to glare at me. “What?”

“To get the part of Juliet in the play. Duh. What else?”

“Oh,” said Alex. “Yeah.” She laughed a nervous laugh, but something secret and shadowy passed over those Mona Lisa eyes of hers. “
Look like the innocent flower / But be the serpent under it,
” I thought as another line from
Macbeth
sprang to mind.

I’d have to wait and see if something new and exciting happened to me. Time would tell. I guess the most I could hope for was that the spell didn’t turn my hair neon green and make it stand up as straight as a troll’s.