“It’s Gen-u-wine, but . . . yeah?” I shielded my eyes.
“Kathleen Kroeger, Ardenville in the Morning.” By the time I understood that this had been her way of introducing herself, she’d turned her back on me. “Are we rolling? Darnell? Can you get us rolling?” A red light blinked. Suddenly, and if it was possible, Miz Kroeger was even perkier. “This morning I’m in Sass, Georgia, talking to Genuine Sweet, who claims that she’s a fourth-generation wish granter—”
“—who’s made the dreams of hungry people around the world come true. Genuine, sources tell me that the recent successes of groups like WorldFeeders and Les Estomacs Heureuses are due entirely to you—”
“I wouldn’t say ‘entirely’—”
“—and your magical wish muffins.”
“Biscuits.”
“Can you tell us more about this gift of yours?” She thrust a microphone at me.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! If Gram was tore up about an online profile, she’d fall to pieces over a TV interview!
“There’s really not much to say,” I assured her. “Not much to it at all, really. Sorry to have wasted your time. Have a nice day.”
I tried to shut the door.
Miz Kroeger reached out an arm and flung the door back. She didn’t look as perky as she had a minute ago.
“So you claim these muffins don’t contain actual magic?” Miz Kroeger demanded.
“No! I mean, yes, they do, but—”
Just then, Jura came tearing up.
“Genuine! Wish to End Hunger—we’ve gone viral!” she gasped.
“Viral?” Was someone sick?
“Our hunger campaign,” she explained. “It got picked up in the blogosphere!” She handed me an armful of printed pages:
HUNGER RATES PLUMMET ACROSS AFRICA (BigAppleNews.com)
FEWER ASIAN KIDS GO TO BED HUNGRY THIS WEEK (NewzFerst.com)
ANTI-HUNGER GROUPS FLOODED WITH DONATIONS AND VOLUNTEERS (ArdenvilleNews.com)
“Hello-o?” Miz Kroeger let her microphone fall. “I canceled an interview with the deputy mayor’s secretary to be here. The deputy mayor’s secretary. You are going to cough up the story, right?”
“Definitely. Absolutely,” replied Jura. “Give us just one second.”
Jura and I stepped out onto the porch, both of us grinning awkwardly at what appeared to be a news crew. Meanwhile, Pa was snoring on his apple crate and I’d just realized I was still in my pajamas. My dignity hung by a thread.
“Did you know about this?” I asked my friend.
“They only just called me. I know it’s early for an interview, but it seemed like such a great opportunity to—”
“You told them to come on? Jura!” I whisper-hollered. “I cannot do this interview. You have got to send her away!”
Jura’s chin jerked back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said. No interview. People in Sass like things quiet. TV interviews aren’t quiet!”
“Genuine!” She gripped my sleeve. “Your power can change things! You deserve to be heard!”
“I don’t want to be heard.” I glanced at Gram’s shut door. Was she really sleeping through all this ruckus? “I want to be left alone.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“All right, kiddies.” Miz Kroeger ambled up. “I want an interview about the wacky world of Genuine Sweet, wish granter, right now—”
“No!” I told her.
“Unless you can’t grant wishes, in which case I’ll assume this has all been a hoax, and I’ll run a story about Genuine Sweet, international wish-granting fraud.”
There it was. The straw that broke the donkey’s back. Rather than let Miz Kroeger ruin my family name on TV, I gave her the interview.
Miz Kroeger picked up her microphone. “Are we rolling, Darnell?” She wiggled her shoulders and started back in with her perky voice. “Genuine Sweet claims to be a fourth-generation wish granter—”
“Fetcher,” I corrected again.
“—and people are starting to believe her. Genuine’s magical wish muffins are making news in the worldwide hunger-relief community, where some say that, after eating Genuine’s wish muffins, their organizations experienced an increase in donations and volunteerism, as well as a decrease in governmental red tape. One organization even claims that one of these Sass-baked pastries ended a weeklong sandstorm, enabling relief trucks to reach remote villages in South Ethengar.
“You must feel very proud, Genuine!”
That seemed to be my cue. “I, uh, wouldn’t say proud, precisely—”
“And eager to prove yourself!”
“No, uh, not really—”
“So, how about it, Genuine? What if we picked a random person off the street and asked them to make a wish? Could you grant it—on live TV?” She made a show of looking left and right. “Ah! Here’s someone now! Hi! Hello? Could you help us?”
I’ll be danged if she didn’t drag one of the Fort brothers out of the shadows! He was dressed in his finest suit and wore a FEELIN’ SASS-Y! baseball cap on his head.
“Happy to.” Billy Fort beamed.
“Young Genuine here is a ‘wish granter.’” Miss Kroeger made quote marks in the air. “And we were wondering if you’d like to make a wish for Genuine to grant, live on Ardenville in the Morning!”
Billy, who never was the sharpest tack, had his answer ready so fast I was sure he’d been coached. “Sure I would! I wish—”
“Hey! Hold up!” I threw myself between Billy and the camera. “I ain’t fetching no wish on TV!”
“Excuse me?” Miz Kroeger demanded.
“I said I’d let you interview me, and I am, but wish fetching is private and solemn and . . . special! It is not made for entertaining folks while they drink their morning coffee!” I felt my face heat up with real anger. “And besides, people are hungry! Folks need medicine and whatnot! This isn’t a game, you know!”