Free One Wish Away by Kelley Lynn Page B

Iris.
    â€œI think she took that rather well.” She snorts, and I turn to look at the two of them.
    My father’s eyes meet mine. I cringe at the thought that I have to question whether he’s sane. My eyes dart to the binder that is now neatly put back together on the table.
    Dad walks over and gestures for me to take what’s in his hand. It looks like a CD, tucked into a paper holder.
    â€œWelcome to the Cricket Project, Lyra.”

Chapter Eleven
    â€œWhat’s on the disc?” Darren asks as he pushes a bunch of clothes off his bed and flops down on top of it. I lean over to put the mystery DVD into his old game console he got for free from one of the guys he works with. Same with his TV.
    I called him immediately after I was out of earshot from my father, and I insisted we hang out at his place. I had to get away so I could clear my head and figure out what was real. We usually don’t hang at his place unless he has to take care of his sisters because his parents are much more…involved, than my dad. They’re always asking questions about how we’re doing, what we’re studying, what’s new at school.
    Dad doesn’t care where I am. Though that’s not entirely accurate. He cares. It’s just hard for him to remember to care.
    â€œI don’t know what’s on here. Dad handed it to me after I learned about the Cricket Project.” I sigh and crawl next to Darren, on my stomach facing the TV.
    â€œThe whata what?”
    â€œThe Cricket Project.” I turn to him, combing my fingers through my hair and out of my face. “It’s the reason I almost went to jail.”
    â€œBecause of something called the Cricket Project?”
    â€œI guess my family isn’t great at coming up with names.”
    Darren shifts so our shoulders are touching. It surprises me, but I like the connection so I stay where I am.
    â€œWhat is it?” he asks.
    I exhale again and turn my head, my nose practically touching his. His eyes are really dark, concerned. They shift and search my face. He smells like the musty electronics store.
    â€œLyra?” He half laughs.
    â€œSorry.” I shake my head. “The project is responsible for the missing star. And you’re
never
going to believe why that star is missing.”
    The right side of Darren’s lip pulls up. His hair is free from his hat and falling over his eye. “Try me.”
    I launch into the explanation. Everything from the physical machine, the StarCatcher, to what it does, to the first wish. I end with the fact that only my dad and my aunt have the ability to grant the wishes.
    His mouth is open and his eyes are squinty which means he’s trying to think it through which I know is virtually impossible.
    â€œLet’s look at the video. Maybe this will help explain things.”
    I press play and Darren reaches over to his lamp to turn off the light. He has this thing with having to watch TV in the dark. When he plops back down next to me, he moves so both our shoulders, and our arms resting on the covers, are touching. I almost reach out and grab his hand, desperately looking for confirmation that some things are real. That everything isn’t as confusing as it feels in this moment. But I don’t.
    The room comes alight in a bluish hue and then a man seated in front of a news desk pops onto the screen. A squeak escapes my lips and I jump to my knees as I notice the headline over his left shoulder.
    Kurt Cobain has died.
    The anchor talks about how the world has lost a true artist and that alternative rock, particularly the subgenre grunge, will never be the same again. He reports Kurt Cobain committed suicide with a gunshot to the head.
    I listen, dissecting every second of the video, trying to find some evidence that will debunk the whole thing. But it seems real.
    The news anchor finishes and moves on to talk about Michelangelo's
Last Judgment
in the Sistine Chapel