Free Wish Girl by Nikki Loftin Page A

seen in years.”
    â€œThanks,” Annie said, shouldering past. She didn’t wait for me, just walked through the barn doors. I followed. Annie headed for the murky lake.
    If she’s going to kill me and throw the body in, I guess that would be the best place to hide it
, I thought, snorting.
    â€œWhat?” She stopped and sneaked a look at me.
    I told her what I’d been thinking, and she laughed, too. “I won’t kill you. Even though you might deserve it.”
    We sat on the edge of a shaky wooden platform that was mired in the mud at one end of the lake and watched the dragonflies and wasps buzz over the top of the water and duckweed for a while.
    Then Annie spoke. “Why did you come here?”
    â€œTo rescue you from yarn art,” I said at last. “And to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
    Annie held up a hand. “It’s okay. I thought about it, and I get what you meant. It’s the same reason I went to the valley anyway.” She smiled a little, staring at the lake. “The first time I saw you there, at Serendipity Pool, I was so mad. I thought I was the first person in the world to find that spot.”
    â€œSerendipity Pool?”
    â€œYeah,” she said, taking the end of the yarn on her project and unwinding it slowly. She grabbed a flower and tied it to the loose end of the yarn, then lowered it toward the water, unrolling yarn like it was fishing line. “What do you think? Serendipity Pool? Or maybe Effervescent Springs?”
    â€œWhy name it?”
    Annie shrugged. “I don’t know, it makes it more real. Anyway, I’ve been reading through my list of favorite words, and those are some of the top ones.”
    â€œYour list of favorite words?” I smiled. Trust Annie to have something like that.
    â€œYes.” She twitched the yarn so the flower on the end made small ripples. “I’ve always loved difficult words, especia—”
    â€œI figured that much,” I interrupted. “I can’t tell what you’re saying half the time.”
    â€œIf you please?” She waited to see if I was finished, like a teacher. I stuck my tongue out at her.
    â€œFine. I’ve always loved words, especially beautiful ones. Mellifluous words. Actually,
mellifluous
is one of my favorites.”
    â€œWhat does it mean?”
    â€œSweet-sounding. Try it—say it. Doesn’t it actually sound sweet on your tongue, like a piece of taffy or something?” We sat there, saying the word
mellifluous
under our breaths for a few seconds. I felt sort of stupid doing it, but no one else was around. And she was right. It almost tasted sweet.
    â€œTry
sumptuous
,” Annie said, “or
susurrus
. Or my new favorite, since I came to camp:
lachrymose
.”
    â€œLachrymose?” I knew that one—it had been on a spelling test the year before. It meant something that caused tears. “Are the other campers being mean?”
    â€œYes. Well, no,” Annie said softly. “Not really. I’m just not exactly a people person these days. They think I’m weird, of course. I have to rest a lot, and the counselors told the other kids about my leukemia. My mom made a scene this morning. She has separation issues.”
    â€œThat stinks.” I asked the question I’d been wondering. “So, this isn’t really Make-A-Wish camp, right?”
    â€œNo,” Annie said. “It’s not. You only get one real wish. I got my wish granted when I was eight after I went into remission—that trip to New York I told you about. It was supposed to be this big celebration. Yahoo, I survived. So I went to every museum I could find. I saw a lot of amazing art up there. Real art.”
    â€œThey won’t give you another trip—another wish? Not even . . . now?” That didn’t seem fair.
    â€œNah,” Annie said, standing up and reeling the yarn back