Autumn's Wish Read Free Page A

always do.
    Did I not press hard enough? Was I maybe not thinking about Jenna hard enough when I wrote her name?
    My phone rings.
    “Hey.”
    “Where are you?” Jenna asks.
    “It didn’t work,” I say. “Let me try it again.”
    I lick a finger and start rubbing off Jenna’s name so I can write it again, but then I hear her voice go all dark and foreboding in my ear.
    “Is the
zemi
still there?”
    I freeze, and not just because I realize I’m an idiot and Jenna is much smarter than me. I slip my fingers underneath the postcard-sized board. I raise it slowly and nervously, like I’m expecting a cockroach to scuttle out from underneath. Finally, I flip it over.
    The back is plain blue plastic. No design. No
zemi.
    No spirit of my father.
    “No,” I say breathlessly. “It’s not there.”
    “And that’s why you’re not here,” Jenna says.
    She declares it like it’s a normal conclusion. A dry-erase board with a design on it? Of course it can totally take you magically anywhere you want to go. No design? Are you kidding? No way can you leap through space with something like that. For a super-logical girl like Jenna, it’s a weird jump…except she and I have been through this before. When I first received the wish-granting journal, it had a
zemi
on the front—a design that looks kind of like a triangle with a face in it. My grandmother Eddy told me that my dad’s ancestors, the Taino, said the
zemi
holds the spirits of the dead. A few years ago I’d have thought that was crazy, but now I know it’s true. I’m not saying my journal and the map are
possessed
by my dad or anything, just that somehow, some way, a little piece of him is attached to those
zemis,
and that’s why the magic works. He was looking out for me, making sure I accomplished what he knew I could do.
    Last year, when the
zemi
disappeared from my journal, I was devastated. I felt like I’d lost my dad all over again. For a second I feel that same pang, but then my heart speeds up and I’m so buzzed with energy I jump to my feet.
    “If it’s gone from this,” I say, “maybe it’s on another gift. Maybe it’s in a hidden compartment somewhere on the map!” That’s how I found the map in the first place—it appeared in a hidden spot in the diary.
    I shake the map by my ear and listen for anything rattling inside.
    “Anything?” Jenna asks.
    “A breeze,” I say, fanning my hair out of my face. “A really nice breeze.”
    “But nothing inside?” Jenna prods.
    “I don’t think so,” I say, “but maybe it’s somewhere else. Maybe it’s in my room. Maybe it’s in another part of the house? Oh God, what if it’s in Erick’s room? I can’t take any more body spray mixed with hormones mixed with sweat.”
    “Trying to ignore those words so I don’t torture myself and imagine the smell,” Jenna says. “But looking for it isn’t the answer.”
    “It’s not?”
    “No,” she says. “You have to go see Eddy. She gave you the diary; she clued you in on how to find the map. She’ll know what to do now.”
    Jenna’s right. If anyone will know what the spirit of my father wants next, it’s my grandmother, Eddy.
    Time to take a trip to Century Acres.

Eddy, my father’s mother, is the main reason we moved to Aventura in the first place. She lived alone down here for years, but when she had a stroke and couldn’t take care of herself, Dad moved her into Century Acres, an assisted-living home. The idea was the whole family would come down and help her, but…well…things changed. At the time I thought there was no way we’d move without Dad, and when we did I kind of resented Eddy for it. Like it was her fault Mom was ripping me away from everything I loved.
    I don’t feel that way anymore. Eddy’s a little crazy and a lot embarrassing, but I love her. And I owe her a visit anyway, since I haven’t seen her all summer. Jenna and I spent the summer as counselors at the sleepaway camp we’ve gone to since we were