Ann Martin - Jessi's Wish

"I'm in love, too," said Kristy. "With babies."

"Lucky duck," said Mal.

"Yeah. Babies are so sweet."

"Gag, gag," said Dawn.

"No, really. And they change so fast. It's hard to believe, when you're holding an infant, that a year later, she'll probably be walking and beginning to talk. She'll be a person."

"Danielle is a person," I said quietly.

Six pairs of eyes turned toward me.

"What?" said Claud.

"I said that Danielle is a person. But some people seem to have forgotten that. To almost everyone, especially the other kids, Danielle isn't just a person.-She's a kid with cancer. Which is the last thing she wants to be. And I don't mean that Danielle wishes she didn't have leukemia. She's accepted that she has it. But she wishes people wouldn't treat her so differently. She's still Danielle.

"You know what she does wish?" I went on.

"No," said Mary Anne. The others shook their heads.

"She has two wishes," I told them. "To take a trip to Disney World with her family. And to graduate from elementary school. Can you believe it? Most kids are thinking, 'When I grow up . . .' or, 'When I'm sixteen . . .' But Danielle isn't looking much past fifth grade right now."

"One of her wishes is to graduate from Stoneybrook Elementary?" repeated Mary Anne. Immediately she began to cry.

Everyone else looked pretty teary, too. Even Kristy.

"Danielle sounds like a great kid," said Claud, in a choked-up voice.

"Oh, she is," I agreed. "I hope you get to meet her some time. You'd love her. She has the best sense of humor." I told my friends some of the things Danielle had said when she was talking with the members of the Kids Club. "And she wears a T-shirt that says 'bald is beautiful,' " I added.

The tears turned to laughter. (Well, to chuckles.)

"Is there any chance Danielle's first wish will come true?" asked Mary Anne.

"To go to Disney World? I don't know," I replied. "I've met Danielle's mother and we've talked a little. I don't think the Robertses are

poor or anything, but I know that Danielle's medical expenses are huge. Insurance covers some things, but not everything. I don't think they have much extra money now. Not enough to send four people to Disney World."

Mary Anne had stopped crying by this time. "Have you ever heard of something called Your Wish Is My Command?" she wanted to know.

I shook my head. Most of the others looked puzzled, too.

"It's this organization in Stamford," said Mary Anne. "It grants the wishes of children who are sick — kids who've been sick a long time or who are sick most of the time. Especially kids whose illnesses have been expensive for their families. Kids like Danielle."

"What kinds of wishes?" asked Mallory.

"Almost any kind," Mary Anne replied. "Little kids sometimes just want toys their parents can't afford. Older kids usually want to go to Disney World or Disneyland. Sometimes they want to get together with relatives they haven't seen in a long time. Some kids want to meet stars. YWIMC grants as many wishes as they can. They get the money from donations."

"Cool!" I exclaimed. "Boy, if Danielle could go to Disney World, she ... I mean, her family ... I don't know. I just think a trip like that

would be great for the Robertses. They all need a vacation. They've practically lived in the hospital recently. I bet they can hardly think of anything except medicine and treatments and leukemia and money. And Danielle has a great attitude, but she is just a kid. I'm sure she'd like to spend a few days in a place where she isn't Danielle Roberts, the girl with cancer. Even Mr. Katz, who is so wonderful, sometimes overprotects Danielle. It's hard not to. But if Mr. Katz overprotects her, think what her parents must do, even if they try to treat her just the way they used to."

My friends and I talked until the sky clouded over and the barn grew cool.

"The meeting might as well be adjourned," said Kristy then. "Remember — anyone who's free, go to Claud's on Monday at five-thirty to answer the phone."

We left the barn then, and I rode home on my bicycle, pedaling fast to beat the rain. I just made it. As I was putting my bike in our garage, I heard a clap of thunder. Ordinarily, I sort of like storms, but I couldn't think about this one. My mind was busy with wishes.

I found the phone book in our kitchen, turned to the Stamford pages, and looked up Your Wish Is My Command. Would anyone answer the phone on a Saturday? Probably not.

"Hello? Your Wish Is My Command."

A volunteer had picked up the phone. I asked him a zillion questions about the organization. Who could have a wish granted? How long would it take? What process did the family have to go through? Then I told him about Danielle and her wishes. The man was really nice. He answered my questions patiently. He listened to what I had to say. And then he said, "Have Danielle's mother or father give us a call."

It was as simple as that.

I said thank you and hung up. I turned to the Stoneybrook section of the phone book. A lot of families are named Roberts, but I picked out Danielle's family easily. Her parents are named Ray and Faye!

I dialed the phone.

Mrs. Roberts answered.

"Hi," I said. "This is Jessi Ramsey from the Kids Club. Um, Mrs. Roberts, I just found out the most wonderful thing. ..."

Chapter 9.

Kristy's stepsister Karen is so much like Kristy that it's weird. She and Kristy didn't know each other until shortly before Karen's dad married Kristy's mom, but they could be twins. Not in terms of looks. Karen has wide blue eyes, long blonde hair, and freckles, and she wears glasses. She and Kristy are not even remotely similar. Unless you get to know them. Karen is as full of ideas as Kristy is. She has just as much energy, if not more. And she is a talker. Also, she tends to get noisy. Adults always have to remind her to us^ her "indoor voice."

So try to picture Karen in Claudia's art class at the community center. Of course, Claud and the other teacher were in charge of not just Karen but eleven other seven-year-olds, including Margo Pike and Jackie Rodowsky. The members of the BSC adore Jackie, but we refer to him as "the walking disaster," because of his constant accidents — tripping, falling, spilling, breaking, you name it. He doesn't do those things on purpose. But if there's so much as a piece of lint on the carpet, you can bet Jackie will stumble over it.

All right. Now picture these kids making sculptures out of clay, glazing them, and firing them in a kiln. This is what Claudia meant by a professional project. The kids weren't mak-

ing plasticene creations that would never dry. Or even clay pieces that would dry into a chalky gray mess. Their sculptures would look shiny and ceramic. Actual pottery.

The art teacher, Mr. Renfrew, had told the kids they could make whatever they wanted. Claudia walked from student to student, answering questions, helping out. The kids were seated at long tables that formed a square. The classroom was small and crowded — but Claud didn't mind. She had a feeling that open space would have encouraged running around.

"Can you tell what I'm making?" Margo Pike asked as Claud paused next to her, peering at the wet clay that oozed between Margo's fingers.

Claud considered the brown blob. It didn't look like much of anything. And she didn't want to hurt Margo's feelings by making the wrong guess. Luckily (or unluckily; it was hard to say), before she had a chance to answer, she heard someone say, "Uh-oh."

It was Jackie. Claud knew that without even looking around.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," said Jackie, which in Jackie-talk means, "Something."

"Hey! How come there's clay all over the floor?" exclaimed Karen Brewer.

"I was trying/' said Jackie, "to make a snake. And I was squeezing the clay and it shot out of my hands."