Free Zacktastic by Courtney Sheinmel Page B

doors that go all the way to the ground, so you can’t peek under them and see who’s in there. Plus, three sinks. They’re not hooked up to the walls yet, and the drains are coming out of the wall behind them. There’s also a big goldmirror waiting to be hung.
    â€œI don’t think anyone’s supposed to be in here,” I say.
    â€œPrecisely,” Trey says. “I came in here because no one else will. You need a private place to come up with a plan to get that bottle back. And I need a private place to think of what wishes to make.”
    With the mention of the W -word, my big toe wakes up and starts tingling again.
    Trey pushes his crooked glasses up the bridge of his nose. The left side sticks up at an even higher angle. “Maybe I’ll wish for Jake and Oliver to come down with a mystery illness that makes them puke for seven straight days,” he says.
    My stomach twists at the thought of puking for that long.
    â€œOr maybe,” he goes on, “I’ll wish that no one will be allowed to step into any building that anyone in my family paid to build unless they have my permission—and if they want my permission,they’ll have to do some serious sucking up to get it. Or maybe I’ll wish . . .”
    Trey’s still talking. Meanwhile, my foot’s still itching. The worst spot is right on the genie bite. It’s traveling down the line of my toes. I reach down, trying to be oh-so-casual about it, and scratch and scratch. Ooh, that’s better.
    â€œWhat is it with you and your foot?” Trey asks.
    â€œIt’s an old genie ritual to formulate a plan to find one’s bottle,” I tell him. “Scratch your toes and the answer will come to you.”
    Trey’s mouth twists like he’s just sucked on a lemon. “The answers better come fast,” he says. I keep on scratching, even though it’s not making the itching go away. Trey pushes open the heavy wooden door of the stall on the far right. “If my dad saw they’d used oak on these doors instead of walnut, he’d have a fit.”
    â€œThey seem fine to me,” I tell him. “Did your family pay for all this, too?”
    â€œAffirmative,” Trey says.
    I’ve never heard anyone say that word before, but I know without asking that it means yes.
    â€œJake and Ollie are probably still in Heddle’s office,” he says.
    â€œHeddle is the head of the school?” I ask. Trey nods. “Is that the same as a principal?”
    â€œYup,” Trey says. “And I can think of some wishes about getting rid of him, too.”
    Itch. Itch. Itch.
    â€œOnce we get the bottle back, if Heddle gives us any trouble or tries to call my dad, I’ll just wish him away. I’ll wish them all away.” Trey pauses, and looks over at me. “What do you think about that plan?”
    Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
    â€œI’m still thinking,” I tell him.
    â€œWhile you’re thinking, I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Trey pauses before ducking into the stall. “It’s a shame for Jake and Ollie. It’s a shame for all the kids at Millings. None of themlike me very much, and I’m the one with all of the wishes.”
    Trey takes a deep breath, and then so soft it’s almost to himself, he adds, “Actually, here’s my wish. I wish I could turn into someone people like.”
    There’s a sound, like a snap. I guess it’s the stall door clicking shut, though I’ve never heard a door sound like that before. But never mind that. Right now my whole foot is itching so badly, it’s as if I stuck it in a tank of mosquitoes that hadn’t had anything to eat for a week. I shake it all about, like I’m playing the hokey pokey, which at ten years old, I am way too old to play.
    Ten years old! I remember being home at my birthday party just a few hours ago, leaning over the cake. I had a wish of my