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

by too fast.” Dasha wipes her tears away and sniffs. “Sorry. We talk about something else now?”
    â€œOkay.” I tell her about Mom’s job and Bobby O’Sullivan’s fireworks. I don’t tell her about the fish that made those things happen, though. Some secrets are too weird even for best friends.
    We talk about the feis as we head down the hall. Dasha nods and smiles and looks excited, but I can tell she’s still upset about that test.

    Dasha laughed about Bobby O’Sullivan but didn’t really have any advice, so when I get home, I text Abby. She’s always had boys asking her out, so she must know how to handle these things.
Charlie:
Hey, are you there?
Abby:
On my way to class. Wassup?
Charlie:
I have this thing going on with a boy who likes me.
Abby:
Cool!!!!!
Charlie:
No! Not cool!
Abby:
????
Charlie:
I don’t like him, but he keeps sending me notes and making me apps and stuff.
Abby:
OMG he’s making you apps?! LOL
Charlie:
It’s not funny, it’s weird. What should I do?
Abby:
If you don’t like him, tell him you just want to be friends.
Charlie:
I thought I did that, but . . .
Abby:
Gotta run. Calc’s starting.
Charlie:
Will you be around later?
    I watch the screen for a minute, but she doesn’t answer, so I change into warm clothes, put on my winter stuff, and run to Drew’s house. He and his nana are outside loading the sled.
    â€œHello there, Miss Charlie!” Mrs. McNeill calls. “Fishing for crystals again?”
    â€œYep. I have two more weeks before my feis.” Mrs. McNeill thinks it’s crazy how much the solo dresses cost, but she’s been helping me out. Every once in a while, she sneaks one of her fish into my bucket when Drew’s not looking.
    â€œNooo . . . not another feece!” Drew clutches his face with his hands, drops to the ground, and rolls in the snow,pretending to be in agony. “The feces . . . they are boring me to death!”
    â€œIs Rachael going?” I ask, and then realize it’s a dumb question. She’s at the Prizewinner level—that’s above Novice—and she goes to pretty much every feis on the East Coast.
    Drew ignores my question anyway and keeps rolling around moaning.
    â€œYou’ll have to forgive him,” Mrs. McNeill whispers. “Rough afternoon at basketball practice. Final tryouts and cuts are coming up, and his father’s putting on the heat.”
    â€œDad’s so excited about the tryouts he got me new basketball shoes that cost like a hundred fifty dollars.” Drew sighs. I feel bad for him. Those shoes aren’t going to solve anything. “And if I get cut, I’m still not off the hook.” He looks over at the fishing poles. “Ha! Off the hook, get it?” He kicks at the snow. “Dad says if I don’t make this team, I gotta try out for baseball or something.”
    â€œDoes it have to be a sport?” I ask. “Science fair is sort of extracurricular, and we get extra credit if we do it.”
    â€œNah. If I did science fair, Dad would find a way to make that about sports too. I’d end up studying how many granola bars a guy can eat before he pukes during a workout or something.” He starts pulling the sled toward the frozen lake. “Let’s fish.”
    It’s been on the warm side this week, and today is the first day it’s dropped back into single digits, so the ice is talking again. We’re walking by the point when I see the hole from our first week of fishing, all frozen over. I stop. “Mrs. McNeill? Can you help me open up this hole again?”
    â€œYou chickening out?” Drew makes
bawk-bawk
ing noises for a few seconds until his nana gives him the stop-it look.
    â€œNo.” I’m fine with going out farther now, but I’ve been thinking all afternoon about Dasha and the test that made her so sad. “I want to fish