Wishful Thinking
Authors: Amanda Ashby
First-day disaster
O
KAY, THERE'S SOMETHING YOU SHOULD KNOW, but I don't think you're going to like it,” Harvey said.
“I've just been humiliated in front of the entire cafeteria by Melissa Tait; I'm pretty sure I can take it.”
Harvey licked his lips and pushed away his pizza crust. “So you might want to take a look at your fingers. And your arm.”
“What?” Sophie loved Harvey, of course she did, but sometimes she feared for his sanity. “Is this another one of your nonverbal communication things? Because it's not funny.”
“Soph,” Kara said in a soft voice as she continued to stare. “He's not joking. You really need to look at your arm.”
Sophie shot them both a look before she cautiously peered down at her arm (which, thanks to this boiling weather and her short-sleeved T-shirt, was almost fully exposed). Then she only just resisted the urge to scream as she looked at her other arm and realized her friends really hadn't been joking.
As far as she could make out, she was completely orange.
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PUFFIN BOOKS
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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Published by Puffin Books, a member of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2012
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Copyright © Amanda Ashby, 2012
All rights reserved
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE
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Puffin Books ISBN 978-1-101-57220-7
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed
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piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This book is dedicated to Penny Jordan (1941â2011),
who touched so many people with her words and her kindness.
My life is better from knowing her.
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Acknowledgments
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I would like to thank my agent Jenny Bent for always helping me find the story, even when I bury it really, really deep! To Christina Phillips and Sara Hantz, obviously I'm a joy to work with, but all the same I would like to thank you for everything. And to Pat for reminding me that this idea would make a good book! To the amazing Karen Chaplin, who has always believed in me even when she's been trudging through all of my amusing little bloopers. Thank you for making me a better writer and for all support and encouragement. And to Kristin Gilson, who stepped in so admirably and whose wonderful sense of humor always makes me smile. Sometimes I think she knows Malik better than I do.
A long overdue thanks to Jeanine Henderson for all the beautiful covers that she has done for my books. I have loved them all and this one is no exception! And to Macey Ward, who looks so much like “my Sophie” that if we ever meet, I will be expecting her to use some magic. Also, a big thank you to everyone else at Puffin, especially the copy editors, who I like to ensure will never want for a job while I'm around.
Another long overdue thank you must go to Allison and Pam Rushby, who both took the time to talk books with me back when the idea of being a published author was just a vague dream. You both made it all seem possible. And finally, to my original Pudding Club buddies, Susan Stephens and Amanda Grange. How lucky were we?
T
HERE WERE THREE THINGS THAT SOPHIE CAMPBELL knew to be true. First was that the power of positive thinking could make just about anything happen. Second was that Neanderthal Joe was the best band in the world and she didn't care how sold-out their concert was because she and her friends were somehow going to get tickets (see her above thoughts on positive thinking). And the third thing was that if Ryan the biter didn't let go of the brand-new jeans that she planned to wear tomorrow for the first day of sixth grade, then she was going to kill him. Kill him dead.
“I mean it, Ryan, hand them over now and no one will get hurt,” Sophie said in what she hoped was a calm and collected manner.
“No.” Ryan gave a simple shake of his red hair and wiped his face along one of the legs, causing Sophie to take a deep breath. So much for her calm and collected manner. Seriously, if any of the peanut butter from his face got onto her jeans, there was going to be trouble.
“Why's he doing that?” her best friend Kara wanted to know as she looked up from her sketch pad and wrinkled her brow in confusion. She had only just gotten back from her art camp yesterday and had decided to come along to keep Sophie company while she was babysitting.
“Because he's the devil,” Sophie explained as she moved slightly to the left to block Ryan's path.
“Surely he can't be that bad. I mean, he's only six,” Kara said in her typical kindhearted way as she put down her charcoal and joined Sophie over by the sofa. “Perhaps he's just playing a game?”
“Oh, it's no game. He really is the ultimate evil. I'm pretty sure I even saw horns,” Sophie assured her as Ryan suddenly darted past them and through the open French doors that led out to the extensive garden. They bolted after him.
“Where did he go?” Kara joined her outside, blinking in the bright California sunshine as they both scanned the spacious grounds for any sign of him.
“I don't know. He could be anywhere.” Sophie let out a frustrated wail while cursing herself for bringing her precious new jeans babysitting just so that she could show Kara how totally gorgeous they were. It was such a rookie mistake. Especially since every sitter in a three-mile radius knew what a nightmare Ryan was.
Ryan was actually the nephew of her mom's boss, Mr. Rivers, and the only reason Sophie had agreed to look after the little he-beast in the first place was because her mom had bribed Sophie with the brand-new jeans on the way over there.
Well, okay, there was one other reason that Sophie had agreed to do it, but she hadn't bothered to tell her mom about it (since she really had wanted those jeans without having to dip into her Neanderthal Joe savings fund). But the truth was that, in a happy twist of fate, Mr. Rivers lived next door to Jonathan Tait, who was one year older than Sophie and had a habit of practicing basketball in his backyard with no shirt on.
Unfortunately, despite being there for the last three hours, Sophie had seen neither hide nor hair of Jonathan, and even worse, her awesome new jeans were in jeopardy of meeting a gruesome death. All in all, not such a great day. Not to mentionâ
“There he is,” she yelled as she suddenly caught sight of a flash of red hair speeding out from the side of the house before once again slipping past them. Sophie tried to ignore the way he let her jeans trail behind him on the ground. And was that a dirt mark she could see on them?
Oh, he was so dead.
“Don't worry, Soph. We'll get them back,” Kara said as they went racing back through the French doors, Sophie's favorite Vans making a soft padding sound along the hardwood floors. She took the stairs two at a time as Kara followed her. When they reached the top, she looked in both directions. There was no sign of Ryan anywhere, but she soon heard a high-pitched giggle coming from the guest room where he had been staying.
Sophie narrowed her eyes. She would high-pitch giggle him, she decided, as she went charging in there. Ryan was sitting on the large leather chair with his PS3 controls in his hands and an evil smirk on his freckled face. Unfortunately, her jeans were nowhere in sight.
“Where are they?” she asked in a tight voice as she peered under the bed. Kara appeared two seconds later and headed straight for the closet.
“Where are what?” Ryan mimicked in a way that made Sophie long to take his controller and use it to hit him over the head.
Stay calm and think happy thoughts,
she commanded herself.
You don't want to become known as the babysitter who murdered Ryan the biter
. Especially since, while she might not be the biggest fan of kids, she was definitely a fan of extra money, and if she killed Ryan, then she was pretty sure that her babysitting career would be over.
“My jeans, Ryan, where are my jeans?” she asked instead, with as much Zen-ness as she could muster.
“Can't remember.” He giggled.
“Perhaps if I hang you upside down by your toenails it will help jog your memory?” she suggested.
“You're not allowed to do that; you're the babysitter,” he reminded her, but Sophie just shrugged.
“Well, since I have no intention of ever looking after you again, I don't really have much to lose. Now tell me: Where are my jeans?”
Ryan paused for a moment, obviously trying to decide if she was bluffing or not before he finally relented.
“Oh, right,
those
jeans. I put them down the laundry chute.”
“You did what?” Sophie looked at him blankly since her own house wasn't quite big enough to have a laundry chute, and if she was honest, she wasn't even really sure what one was.
“I think he means that thing.” Kara pointed to a small door in the wall, and Sophie felt her breath shorten as she immediately raced over and yanked it open. For a moment all she saw was pitch black as she stared down a long dark tunnel, but as her eyes started to adjust she finally caught sight of something blue lying in a crumpled heap down at the bottom.
Oh, thank goodness!
“I can see them and they're okay. I repeat, they're okay,” she called out before spinning back round to where Ryan was still sitting. “So where exactly does this thing end up?” she demanded.
“In the basement, which means. . .Â
Hey, where are you going
?” Ryan widened his beady little eyes in surprise as Sophie grabbed Kara's hand and headed for the door.
“The moon. I've heard it's nice this time of year,” she snapped in annoyance before tilting her head and glaring at him. “Where do you think I'm going? And you had better hope like crazy that they're not dirty.”
“Yeah, well, you're not allowed down there, and if you go, I'll tell Uncle Max,” Ryan said, making Sophie realize that he had totally done this on purpose, the little snot. Well, two could play at that game.
“Really, and perhaps I should tell your uncle Max what you did to his cat?” Sophie countered, since she had caught Ryan trying to water the one-eyed tabby earlier. And not in a nice way either.
“I was just playing with him,” Ryan's voice started to turn whiny and sullen.
“And the big scratch you put in the back of the walnut desk downstairs?” Sophie arched an eyebrow. “Was that just playing as well? Because my mom works in your uncle's antique store, and I know for a fact that desk is worth over ten thousand dollars. I imagine he would be quite annoyed if he found out you'd ruined it.”
“You w-wouldn't.” Ryan faltered.
“Wouldn't I?” Sophie said as she shot him a double dose of her world-famous death glare. Okay, so it wasn't really world famous, but she had spent most of the summer practicing it in case Cheryl Lewis gave her any more problems in gym. She must've nailed it because Ryan instantly shut his mouth.
“Fine,” he eventually muttered. “I won't say anything.”
“Good. And I suggest that you stay here and play your stupid game because otherwise I just might change my mind about what I tell your uncle Max. Now come on, Kara, let's go get my jeans.”
“Wow, he really is evil,” Kara said in awe as Sophie raced down the landing toward the wide staircase. “I can't believe he ruined a ten-thousand-dollar walnut desk.”
“Actually, I don't have a clue how much the desk cost or what it's made out of,” Sophie admitted with a rueful grin. “But I figured he's a six-year-old kid, so he wouldn't know either. The important thing is that it shut him up. Hopefully, he won't give us any more trouble.”
“Well, you were very convincing,” Kara assured her before suddenly pausing for a moment and frowning. “By the way, what did he mean about the basement?”
“Oh, that. Well, before Mr. Rivers left, he gave me a list of dos and don'ts, and one of them was that no one was allowed in the basement.” Sophie shrugged as she reached the ground floor and headed toward the kitchen, where the basement stairs were.
“What?” Kara yelped as a flash of concern raced across her face. “Are you serious? He told you not to go in the basement, and you're still going to do it?”
Sophie, whose fingers were gripped around the basement door, wrinkled her nose. “Well, I can't really get my jeans back if I don't,” she pointed out. “Anyway, it will only take a second.”
“Yes, but it's a basement.” Kara was looking seriously alarmed now. “You know what Harvey says. Going into the basement is the number one cause of death for young American girls. Especially when it's a basement that you've been warned not to go into.”
“Kara,” Sophie said, groaning. “Harvey was talking about horror-movie clichésâyou know he watches far too many of those things. Besides, you don't seriously think I should leave my jeans down there, do you?”
Kara didn't reply, but Sophie could tell by the way her friend was chewing her lip that this was exactly what she did think. Great.
Most people who met Kara Simpson thought that while she was a little bit kooky, for the most part she was sweet and kind and wouldn't say boo to a ghost (though seriously, who in their right mind would say boo to a ghost in the first place? Unless, of course, you wanted to bug the ghost, and in that case you could boo away).
Not that that was the point. The point was that Kara had a stubborn streak that ran through her like a rod of iron. Two rods even. Normally it came out only when she was talking about postmodern art and its use of pop imagery, but occasionally it did make other appearances.
Now was obviously one of them.
Sophie's mom said it was because Kara was an Aquarius and therefore marched to the beat of her own drum, but all Sophie knew was that when her best friend chewed her lip like that, it was hard to change her mind.
“I have to go down there,” she repeated in a wheedling voice. “They're my new jeans.
My new jeans that are going to look amazing on me when we start sixth grade tomorrow.
I can't just leave them there.”
“Yes, but maybe you could just wait until Mr. Rivers comes home and ask him to get them then?” Kara suggested in a hopeful voice, but Sophie shook her head.
“He's away until later tonight. Ryan is getting picked up by his nanny, who is going to take him back to whatever planet he comes from. But she can't get here until later this afternoon, which is why they needed me to babysit in the first place.”
“Well, you could always just wear your other jeans tomorrow. I mean they're cute, too.”
They were also covered in pink embroidered flowers and made Sophie look about eight years old. Not exactly how she planned to start sixth grade. Besides, it was okay for Karaâwith her long dark hair and her pale green eyesâbecause she could wear whatever she liked and still look amazing. But for Sophie, with her so-straight-you-could-rule-lines-with-it blonde hair and standard-issue brown eyes, it wasn't so easy.
For a start, she was four feet nothing (and judging from her gene pool, it didn't look like things would be improving anytime soon), so trying to find clothes that didn't make her look young, chubby, or, at the very worst, “cute as a button” was near impossible.
Not that she was complaining, she was just saying that when you weren't America's Next Top Model gorgeous like Kara, you needed to rely on other things to help you get by in life (or, to be more specific, to impress Jonathan Tait).
Hence, her beautiful new jeans, which felt like they were made especially for her. From the moment she had tried them on she just knew that good things would come from owning them. Plus, they somehow managed to make her look taller. Which was why she had no plans at all to leave them trapped on the other side of the basement door.
Those jeans were hers. Somehow the Universe had led her to them, and if she couldn't trust the Universe, then whom could she trust? Sophie felt her resolve strengthen as she twisted the door handle and turned and gave Kara a smile.
“Honestly, I'll be fine. I'll just go get my jeans, and then we can go back upstairs and you can show me the sketch you were doing.”
