The Seventh Wish by Kate Messner Read Free Book Online Page A

Dasha a ride? She’s not sure her mom will be able to get time off work.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œPerfect!” I slide a piece of pizza onto my plate and do some math in my head.
    The feis is a little over two weeks away. If I don’t have too much homework and the weather’s okay, that’s fourteen more fishing days. One of those days, I might pull in a perch big enough to win the Make-a-Wish tournament. And even if I don’t, if I can catch three or four pounds a day, that’ll add up at Billy’s.
    Maybe if I find a nice used dress at a good price, I’ll get one of the hair pieces to go with it. The advanced Irish dance girls wear fancy wigs, all piled up with bouncy curls that match the color of their hair. The long, full wigs cost hundreds of dollars, but they also make littler ones—ponytailsand buns that you clip onto your hair. Maybe I could afford one of those.
    â€œCharlie, you still with us?” Dad waves a hand in front of my face. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”
    â€œSorry, I was just thinking. I’m happy for Mom with the new job.” I polish off my slice of pizza and reach for a second. “Also, I’m thinking of a word.”
    â€œPersnickety?” Dad says, making a face that matches his guess.
    â€œGreat word,” I say, “but no.”
    â€œLet’s see,” Mom says. “My guess is rutabaga.”
    â€œNope! It was sparkle,” I say. “Dad wins. Because persnickety is a more sparkly word than rutabaga.” Besides, I don’t really know what a rutabaga looks like, and I’m too excited to think about vegetables when there are dresses and dances and medals to dream about.
    Mom sighs. “Rutabagas never get the respect they deserve.”

    On Friday, I stay after with Mrs. Racette to look up science project ideas, but I can’t find anything interesting that doesn’t also have bad-nickname potential. Then Bobby O’Sullivan shows up, all out of breath.
    â€œI left coding club early so I could talk to you. Want to be science fair partners?” he asks.
    â€œUm . . . I can’t. Sorry. I’m already working with someone,” I say, even though I’m not exactly. I was
thinking
about talking to Dasha and Catherine. That must count.
    Bobby looks crushed, but only for a second. “Well, if you need anything, any help or anything, just let me know. I’m good at posters and stuff. And I can program too.” He pulls out his phone and taps it to launch an app he must have made in coding club. It’s a digital fireworks display, and at the end the sparkles all dance around and settle into letters that spell . . . oh no . . .

    â€œI have to go, Mrs. Racette. I’ll do more research at home.” I hurry down the hall and wonder how long it takes a wish to wear off.
    Dasha had coding club after school too, but she’s not in our hallway yet, so I wait at her locker. I’m excited to tell her about Mom’s new job and let her know we’re going up early to go dress shopping before the feis. I really need to get some advice on Bobby O’Sullivan too. But when Dasha shows up, her cheeks are shiny with tears. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at coding club?”
    She blinks fast a few times and shakes her head. “No. I went to check on my score for language test today. I study so hard, but . . .” She shakes her head again, and I know that she’s failed another one of those exams they give studentsstudying English as a Second Language to see if they’re ready to move into regular classes.
    â€œAw, Dasha, it’ll be okay. You’ll get it.” I put an arm around her. “You’re really smart. You’re a brainiac at coding, and you always get a hundred in math.”
    She sighs. “But other classes . . .” She shakes her head. “Words go