The Art of Wishing by Lindsay Ribar Read Free Book Online Page B

gray hoodie.
    “Hey!” I said, a little bit taken aback. “I was just about to come find you.”
    “I know,” he replied. My confusion must have shown on my face, because he grinned down at me. “You want to make a wish.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “You can read my mind from three classrooms away?”
    He laughed. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, okay? I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything. I just sort of . . . overheard you. So what’ll it be? I have a few minutes before Brit Lit if you want to wish right now.”
    “Whoa, whoa.” I held a defensive hand up. “Calm down, okay? I thought you said you’d give me time.”
    A frown creased his forehead. “But you want—”
    “I know what I want,” I interrupted, letting out an exasperated laugh. “And for the record, I still think it’s weird that you know it, too.” I paused. “You do know how weird it is, right?”
    “It’s pretty weird,” he said seriously, though there was a hint of a smirk around his eyes.
    I smiled. “As long as we’re on the same page. Anyway, yes, I do have a wish. Three, in fact,” I said, lowering my voice as some girl I didn’t know passed close enough to brush my shoulder. “And I want to run them by you first, so I don’t screw them up. But preferably somewhere not in the middle of school.”
    “Hey McKenna, you coming?”
    Naomi was already halfway down the hallway, and she looked impatient. She and I always walked to chemistry together after French, but I hadn’t thought to ask her to wait for me today. “Oh! Sure, right, um. Naomi, you know Oliver, right?”
    “Sure,” she said briskly, walking back to us. “How’s the yearbook coming along? Got enough pictures yet?”
    “Mm-hmm,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and letting his hair fall into his face. “But, you know. Always room for more. I mean, not in the yearbook. There’s only a four-page spread there. But for the slide show, and for me. I’m, um, kind of a perfectionist, I guess?”
    I frowned as I watched him. Naomi nodded and asked him something else, and he mumbled his reply without quite looking her in the eye. Granted, a lot of guys had that reaction to Naomi, but this was different. It was like watching Superman turn into Clark Kent. What was his deal?
    “So, call me after school?” said Oliver. “We can talk before tonight’s rehearsal.”
    “Hmm?” I said, refocusing my thoughts as I sensed words directed at me. “Oh. Yeah, sounds good.”
    “Cool,” he said. Shooting me a secretive grin from under his unruly bangs, he darted into the hallway traffic. As I watched him go, a stray thought meandered into my head. It went like this:
Wow, his eyes are really pretty when he smiles.
    “What was that?” said Naomi, her shrewd gaze locked on to Oliver’s retreating figure.
    “What?” I said innocently, even though I already knew the answer.
    “You and Parish, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “I know flirting when I see it, McKenna. Never thought you’d go for a sophomore, but I’m not one to judge. Younger guys are so deliciously
malleable
.”
    “It’s nothing like that,” I told her. “There’s no flirting. We’re just friends.” But for some reason, even though that was the truth, knowing Oliver’s secret made it feel like a lie.
    “Too bad,” she said, and looked back down the hall, where Oliver had disappeared into the crowd. “I thought maybe you were finally moving past your mooning-over-Simon phase.”
    I winced. “Am I that obvious about Simon?”
    “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, slinging an arm around me and propelling me toward our next class. “Don’t make me answer that.”

Chapter FIVE
    A s soon as school was over, I called Oliver from the park. Bundled in my coat and gloves, I touched the ring and leaned against my car to wait for him. In about four seconds, he appeared a few feet away from me, wearing snow boots and a puffy jacket, just like mine—only mine was bright