Ann Martin - Jessi's Wish

Becca and Danielle looked at each other joyously. What a pair they made — Becca, dark-skinned, shorter and chunkier than Danielle, wearing a flashy pair of jams, her thick hair arranged in ponytails; and Danielle, still pale, with the shape of a bean pole, wearing droopy jeans and her even droopier BALD is BEAUTIFUL T-shirt, a blue-and-green scarf not really hiding her almost bald head.

I don't think either one of them noticed, though. Besides, they didn't have time to stand around thinking about themselves. They had plans — and plenty of them — for the day.

"First we call Charlotte," said Becca, heading for the phone.

"Jessi?" said Mama. "Can you watch the girls and Squirt for awhile? Daddy and I want to work in the garden. Aunt Cecelia's out for the day."

"Sure," I replied.

"The garden" is a rose garden that my parents planted in our backyard. It's their pride.

They work on it every weekend that they can.

Mama and Daddy left through the garage door.

Becca hung up the phone and announced to anyone in earshot that Charlotte was on her way. "And she's bringing her Barbies."

"Uh-oh," said Danielle. "I left my Barbies at home."

"That's okay. I have twelve. You can borrow a few," Becca said generously.

Charlotte showed up, Barbie case in tow. I knew perfectly well what was inside that case: three beat-up Barbie dolls, a jumble of clothing, a spool of thread, a yo-yo .missing its string, and a small flashlight. (When asked what the thread, the yo-yo, and the flashlight were for, Charlotte merely shrugged and said, "It's stuff I need.")

"Hi!" cried Becca as she let Char inside. "Here's Danielle. She forgot her Barbies, but she's going to borrow some of mine."

"Okay," said Char. "Hey, Becca, why don't you lend five to Danielle and two to me? That way, we can each have five."

This seemed to be an important point. Once Becca had agreed to it, the girls charged upstairs. I turned to Squirt, who was sitting on the floor. He had been watching the girls, probably wishing he were old enough to be a part of things. He grinned at me.

"How about a piggy-back ride?" I said. I settled Squirt on my back and ran him around the house. We were passing the staircase when I heard shrieking upstairs. So I backed up and then ran to the second floor.

"What's going on?" I called.

The shrieking stopped.

"Nothing," Becca finally called back.

I skidded to a halt at the doorway to Becca's room.

"Moy!" cried Squirt.

"No more," I told him. "Not now. Becca — ?"

"We're not hurt," Becca assured me, before I could say a word about the red streaks that crisscrossed her face, as well as Char's and Danielle's.

"It's our war paint," added Charlotte.

"We're Indian warriors," Danielle informed me.

"What happened to playing Barbie?" I asked.

The girls looked at each other guiltily. They removed their Barbies from various carrying cases. Each Barbie was wearing her own war paint.

When the girls and the dolls had been cleaned up, I led the girls downstairs.

"Okay," said Danielle. "It's time for ... Squirt Tag!"

Nobody, not even Danielle, knew what Squirt Tag was. Nevertheless, a noisy, energetic chase ensued. The girls followed Squirt around the house. Squirt ran just ahead of them, giggling. The girls pretended that Squirt could move faster than they could. They pretended to be unable to tag him. When Squirt tripped and fell down, the girls fell down, too.

"Okay, everybody outside!" I said as the kids got to their feet.

"Outside for a game of The Return of Squirt Tag!" shouted Danielle.

The kids ran around the backyard. When they started to look sweaty, I called, "Who wants lemonade?"

"Me!" cried the girls. (Squirt raised his hand.)

I picked up my little brother. Becca and Charlotte dashed for the house. Danielle lagged behind them. As I held the door open for her, I thought she looked paler than usual, which seemed odd, because Char and my sister and Squirt were flushed from all the running around.

Danielle walked inside, completely out of breath. She headed for the nearest couch and collapsed onto it. Then she lay sprawled on her back, her eyes closed. She barely moved.

"Danielle?" whispered Becca. (She looked scared to death.)

"I can't move/' Danielle murmured.

I set Squirt on the floor and ran to Danielle. "What's wrong?" I cried.

Danielle opened her eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I'm okay."

"You don't look okay."

"But I am. Honest.'* Danielle struggled to sit up. "I shouldn't have run around so much. That's all."

"Well, do you have a fever or what?"

"A fever? No, I just got too tired. I need to rest for awhile."

"All right," I replied. My mind was racing. "Charlotte, why don't you get Danielle a glass of water. Becca, you keep Danielle company. I'll be right back."

I picked up Squirt again and ran to my parents in the yard. I told them what had happened. They dashed inside, took a look at Danielle, who already seemed better, and decided to call her parents anyway. But no one answered the phone.

"I really, really am fine," Danielle assured us.

Since she did, in fact, look better, Mama and Daddy relaxed a little.

Danielle sat up. Some color had returned to her cheeks. "Let's play Barbies again," she said to Becca. So Becca brought the dolls, their clothes, and all their accessories into the living

room. She and Danielle and Charlotte played together until four o'clock. But Danielle never left the couch.

"I shouldn't have played so hard this morning," she said. "But sometimes I forget that I can't play the way I used to. Oh, well. I'll learn."

Mr. and Mrs. Roberts came by our house at exactly 3:55 that afternoon. I told Mrs. Roberts that Danielle had gotten overtired. I felt I had to.

"She does get overtired," Mrs. Roberts agreed, "but she knows how to deal with that. I'm sorry we weren't home when you called, though. We — Oh! I can't believe I didn't tell you this right away. Someone from YWIMC called this afternoon. He said Danielle has been placed on their 'wish list.' That means that as soon as enough money is donated, Danielle's wish can be granted."

"All right!" I exclaimed. With a little luck, Danielle might get to go to Disney World after all.

Chapter 11.

One evening, Becca and I had a nice surprise. The surprise was a phone call from Danielle.

"Guess what!" she cried.

I almost said, "Has your wish been granted? Are you going to Disney World?" Luckily, I didn't say that. First of all, I remembered, just in time, that Danielle didn't know about YWIMC. If her wish was granted, it was going to be a surprise for her. Second, what if that wasn't the news anyway? So I caught myself and simply said, "What?"

"Mommy and Daddy are going to have a cookout on Saturday night, and they said that you and Becca and Charlotte are invited!"

"Fantastic!"

"Charlotte already said she can come. Can you and Becca come, too?"

"I think so. I'll have to check."

"I hope you can. Because we're going to barbecue chicken and hamburgers and hot dogs. And Daddy is going to make his special potato salad. And Mommy and I are going to bake brownies, or maybe a cake. Oh, and Greg is going to mix up the lemonade." (Greg is Dan-ielle's brother. He's six and a half.)

"It sounds like a lot of fun," I said. "Becca or I will call you back."

It turned out that Becca and I were both free, so late Saturday afternoon Charlotte Johanssen came over, and Daddy drove her and Becca and me to Danielle's house. Becca and Charlotte had been there before. I hadn't.

Daddy pulled up in front of a small brick house. The lawn in front was sort of scraggy (if you know what I mean), but someone obviously tended the two flower gardens very carefully.

"There's Danielle!" cried Becca, as she opened the door. "See you later, Daddy!"