I looked at her. Jura nodded sagely.
“All right, Scree,” I said. “One new car for Micky.”
She squealed so long and so hard I thought she might be having a fit.
Quick as I could, I whispered her wish to a biscuit so I could shove it in her mouth and stop the din.
“Oh, Genuine! Thank you! I’ll never forget it!” Scree exclaimed, though her mouth was half full. And off she ran in the direction of Micky’s house.
Out west, over the mountains, lightning flashed. A storm was brewing.
All at once, I got an uneasy feeling.
JoBeth Haines raised an eyebrow when Jura and I swung open the library door, but when I asked if we might use the computer, JoBeth only smiled and told us to help ourselves.
Jura logged us in to Cornucopio, and I scooted my chair up next to hers, eager to see what wishes had arrived. Folks didn’t seem to understand we were serious. In twenty-four hours, all’s we had were three replies: a message saying if we wanted to play pranks, we should do it on SmoochBook, and two pukish wish requests I won’t bother to repeat.
Jura put the filters on after that, but otherwise, she wasn’t worried in the least.
“By the way,” she said, “I used my aunt’s number as the phone contact. You know, just in case yours gets disconnected by mistake.”
Just in case the bill doesn’t get paid is what she meant. As much as it pained me to admit it, it was a sensible arrangement.
“That’s fine. They’re not exactly storming the barn doors, anyway. How are we supposed to save the world if no one makes a wish?” I asked.
“Easy,” she told me. “I wish that the groups who can best end world hunger will find our profile and make legitimate wish requests.”
“Huh,” I chuckled. “I guess I’m bakin’ you a wish biscuit tonight.”
When I got home, I found a letter addressed to me from the electric company:
Rumpp County Power
26 Wexler Street
Pitney, GA 39902
Dear Ms. Sweet:
Thank you for your letter regarding payment of your electric bill. Unfortunately, we do not accept payment in the form of goods and/or services. For your convenience, you may pay your bill with cash, check, or credit card. Our offices are open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday through Friday.
Please note your current bill is three days overdue.
Sincerely,
Abernathy Hoist
Account Representative
I frowned at it, but not for long. Why worry over something that I couldn’t do anything about—at least until the office opened on Monday? I put the letter back in the envelope and set it under the living room lamp.
10
Awful, Wonderful
SATURDAY MORNING CAME, AND THE WORLD WAS sunshine and light once again. It’s a fine thing, what a good night’s sleep can do for you.
Course, it also might have had something to do with the fact that, in less than seven hours, I’d be meeting Sonny for our first date.
That’s right. This was the Saturday, bowling day, the day I’d decreed as Love on the Lanes Day.
But by lunchtime, my heebie-jeebies had gobbled up my hip-hoorays. I was so nervous I barely made it through my egg salad sandwich. After that, I spent half an hour trying on all the clothes I owned, only to discover that they were all downright horrible. Unlovely as I felt, I started to wonder if Sonny’s asking me out would turn out to be some big joke at my expense.
“You all right, Gen?” Gram stood in the bathroom doorway, a fist on her hip.
The shower curtain rod was strewn with pants and tops, a skirt, and my two dresses.
I slumped. “Gram, a boy asked me to go bowling, but I don’t think I can go. If it ain’t bad enough that I’m homely, my clothes are so tired a thrift store wouldn’t take ’em.”
“Oh, honey.” Gram put a hand on my cheek. “You’re not homely. You’re just growing. You look the way your ma did at your age.” I knew for a fact Gram had always regarded my ma as quite beautiful. “As for your clothes, well, I will admit they need some freshening up. I’ll tell you what. Give me that yella top, there. You put on your jeans, and get the rest of that mess folded up and put away.”
I gave her the top. There wasn’t much to it. It was a plain, button-down, collared shirt.
An hour later, Gram found me staring at the TV—Chef Guy’s Holy Crepe! She sat down next to me and set the shirt in my lap.
The top’s plain plastic buttons had been replaced with mother-of-pearl ones, ringed in silver. The corners of my collar were fancied with pointed silver tips. It was simple and elegant, but not too showy for the bowling alley. Gram hadn’t done much, but what she had done made all the difference.
I jumped and jiggled and hugged Gram all at the same time, which must have been a sight.
Gram laughed. “I guess you like it.”
“I do! It’s perfect! Where’d you get these?” I touched the buttons and the collar tips.
“Aw, they was just lying around,” she replied. “Now, how long till you meet your young man? Do you have time for me to do your hair?”
I did. Gram plugged in her old curling iron and gave my hair “just a little body,” as she called it. In five minutes, I had curls where there weren’t any before. I grinned at the mirror, feeling like the prize peacock.
“Now, don’t kiss on the first date!” Gram shouted out the front door as I was leaving. “And if he tries anything you don’t like, you have your gram’s own permission to bite him. Hard! All right?”