Wish Upon a Star by Mindy Klasky Read Free Book Online

body. Maybe I could clean the thing, wipe off enough tarnish to figure out what I was supposed to do with it. I started off with tentative pressure, afraid that I would scratch the finish, but that didn’t make a dent in the motley stains. I rubbed harder, bearing down on the towel.
    I changed the angle of my arm, trying to put some real strength behind my action. My fingers slipped off the towel, and my palm fell flat against the filthy brass. Immediately, an electric shock jolted up my arm. The force was strong enough to make me swear, and I would have dropped the lamp if I hadn’t been afraid of breaking the expensive-looking tile on the kitchen floor. My fingers jangling, I barely managed to set the thing on the counter.
    My heart pounded so hard that I couldn’t take a full breath. What the hell had Becca done? Had she meant to electrocute me? Before I could run out of the kitchen, though, before I could flee from my new home, or think about calling the police or the fire department, or whoever you call when a brass lamp attacks you, I realized that something had changed.
    Fog was pouring out of the lamp’s spout. Not just any fog, though, not like the steam from a boiling teakettle, or some Halloween haunted-house witch’s cauldron.
    This fog was made of tiny jewels. Cobalt and emerald, citrine and garnet, the lights poured out. They swirled through the kitchen, caught in their own little storm, spinning like a tornado. Faster and faster they danced, growing, taking up all the space in front of the refrigerator.
    I caught my breath and took a step back, afraid of what would happen if the particles touched my skin. I slipped a little on the floor, and I darted my eyes toward the counter, steadying myself against the cool granite.
    When I looked back, the fog had disappeared.
    In its place was a man. A man, wearing a dark blue police uniform, complete with a tool belt, a nightstick and a gun. His billed cap was pulled down low over his eyes. His jaw looked like it had been carved out of stone, and his dark brown eyes glowed like molten agate. I half expected him to pull a traffic whistle out of his pocket as he raised his right hand in the universal signal of Stop!
    But this guy wasn’t your average city cop. He had a tattoo, a brilliant etching of flames traced around his wrist. Orange and gold and red, all outlined in black, seared into his skin as if the fire were real, a living, breathing thing. My eyes were somehow drawn to the ink, captured as completely as any robber stopped in the middle of a poorly executed heist.
    Before I could say anything, before I could remember how to speak, figure out what to say, the policeman took a small spiral notebook from his breast pocket. He flipped it open like a seasoned pro and produced a ballpoint pen from somewhere. “All right, ma’am,” he snapped. “Just the facts. Enumerate your wishes, and we can wrap this up without delay.”

CHAPTER 3

    “EXCUSE ME, UM, Officer?” I stammered.
    “Teel,” he barked.
    “Officer Teel?” I said, trying to process what had just happened.
    “Just Teel, ma’am.”
    Okay. That was strange. But what did his name really matter? He couldn’t be real, could he? This had to be some sort of joke.
    I looked around the kitchen, trying to figure out what was going on. Had Becca rigged her kitchen with some bizarre theatrical tricks, maybe a projector that was creating the image of this hunky cop? But why would she bother to do that? And how had she done it?
    The brass lamp was on the counter, where I’d dropped it after that massive jolt of electricity. It was tilted on its side, but even at that angle, I could see that all the tarnish had been scrubbed away. The metal gleamed beneath the kitchen lights. Becca couldn’t have done that, could she?
    As I stared at the lamp, the cop, um, Teel took a step closer to me. I could smell his aftershave, something sharp and spicy. Whatever else was going on, this guy wasn’t any filmed