Cloudy with a Chance of Boys Read Free

School picture? A picture of Act Two, our old dog? My last report card? Friendship bracelet from Olivia? It was kind of hard to choose, since I really didn’t know what to wish.
    In the distance, I could hear an emergency siren.
    Then, in the beam of my flashlight, I caught sight of a troll doll with neon-green hair and a diamond in its belly, giving me the evil eye.
    Perfect! Mom once told me that trolls were supposed to be good luck. I grabbed the troll doll by its green hair. Who didn’t want to wish for good luck?
    We crept back downstairs and all three of us crouched in front of the fire.
    “Alex, what did you pick?” Joey asked eagerly.
    “Um . . . it’s a secret,” said Alex. “You’re not supposed to tell, or show your Special Object to anybody. Keep it in your pocket or behind your back till we’re ready.”
    “What magic words should we say?” Joey asked.
    “How about if I say the ‘Double, double, toil and trouble’ part, then you guys answer, ‘By the pricking of my thumbs / Something wicked this way comes.’”
    Branches scratched against the window like fingernails on a chalkboard. I felt a shiver up my back.
    “Too creepy,” Joey said.
    “Okay . . .” said Alex, in a thin voice. “How about, ‘Come you spirits, make my blood thick —’”
    “No blood!” I reminded Alex.
    “C’mon, you guys. You’re wrecking the mood.”
    “Yeah, Joey, stop wrecking the mood,” I teased. I wiggled my troll doll in her face to spook her.
    “Hey, she showed us her Special Object. You’re not supposed to show us your Special Object,” said Joey. “Do you think the magic will still work, Alex?”
    “It’ll work,” Alex said. “Okay, you guys. Be serious. This is it. Close your eyes. I’m going to say something in Shakespeare, and you can’t fight me on it. Then I’ll count to three. On the count of three, open your eyes, and we each toss our Special Objects into the fire at the same time. Ready? Remember, the most important part is you have to believe. ”
    I closed my eyes. The darkness heightened every sound — wind whipping through the trees outside, the ticking of the old mantel clock, my sisters’ breathing. My own heart thumping.
    That’s when I knew I wanted to wish for something besides just ordinary good luck. It was probably just hocus-pocus, but somehow — call it the storm, the dark, the firelight — this felt bigger than a birthday-candle wish.
    I’d wish for . . . something new and exciting to happen to me. Something different. Something daring. Like when I tried out to be in the musical Once Upon a Mattress. Or entered a Cupcake Cooking Contest.
    Alex made her voice soft and spooky again. “‘Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires.’”
    Thunk! “What was that?” I asked.
    “Just a branch hitting the roof,” said Alex.
    I opened one eye and peeked. A reflection of firelight flickered in the troll doll’s eyes. Alex was holding a play program from Beauty and the Beast, and Joey had an origami frog in her hand.
    “One . . . two . . . three . . .” Boom! A loud crack of thunder shook the house just as we opened our eyes and tossed our Special Objects into the fire. I jumped. Joey screamed and grabbed onto Alex. A streak of lightning flashed blue and the fire flared up. Tongues of flame licked the edges of Alex’s program and poof, it disappeared into ash. Joey’s frog went up in smoke. The troll doll melted quicker than the Wicked Witch.
    All of a sudden, a string of pearl-size goose bumps ran up and down my spine. A thrilling kind of tickle at the base of my neck needled me. I scratched it, as if touching it might make it go away.
    Maybe it was just the dark, the night, the storm. The gleam in my sister’s eye. What was Alex playing at? Wasn’t this just a game? What if we had done something, started something, called on something — unleashed something invisible, something bigger than us, this room, this night?
    “Joey, I