Free The Wish Stealers by Tracy Trivas

horrible things—it all twists into your face, making it droop with cruel words and then pinching it up tight. Treat yourself with respect and ignore people who don’t treat you with dignity,” said her grandma.
    Griffin’s hands shot up to her face, and her cheeks felt warm. Her eyes grew huge.
    “What’s the matter?” asked her grandma.
    Griffin plopped onto the guest bed. Mariah’s face came jutting into her mind, wearing a wicked sneer, each wrinkle pulling tighter and tighter into an evil circus clown smile.“I just remembered a ninety-two-year-old lady with the most creased face I’ve ever seen,” said Griffin. “Do you think people can steal wishes?”
    Grandma Penshine quieted. Griffin heard the clock tick and the cotton curtains rustle, and she shivered from a cold breeze that shot straight through the bedroom. Both Griffin and her grandma caught the chills.
    “Yes, I believe people can steal wishes. Those people—Wish Stealers is what we used to call them back when I was a girl in Topeka—are the worst kind of people in the world.”
    Griffin’s heart beat out of control.
    “Wish Stealers are filled with fear. They are the first people to spit on a dream.” Grandma Penshine sneezed and moved to grab a tissue. “Wish Stealers make people ashamed for trying, eat up people’s courage, and stomp on their enthusiasm. Do you know why? Because they’re afraid. Jealous they can’t do it themselves. Wish Stealers are afraid to dream.”
    Flashes of Mariah’s face seared into Griffin’s head.
    “Wishes are a bit like snowflakes: powerful and fragile at the same time,” said Grandma Penshine. “They can melt at any minute but are magnificent just the same. They are filled with nature’s most fierce and wild power . That’s what’s in a wish, a fierce and wild power .”
    Suddenly Grandma Penshine couldn’t stop coughing.Hacking. Gasping for air. Her fragile chest heaved for breath.
    “Grandma!” shouted Griffin.
    Her grandma coughed until her chest looked like it might collapse. “Grandma!” shrieked Griffin, and she ran to grab a glass of water.

    Nothing happens unless first a dream.
    —Carl Sandburg

Chapter
18

    F irst thing Monday morning Griffin slumped down the school hallway. Shadows and bags hung under her eyes. All weekend she’d worried about her grandma. Her coughing attack had been so severe she’d had to lie down and cancel their lesson. I wish for Grandma Penshine to get well soon rattled through Griffin’s head. Right before school, she slipped the “change the world” penny into her shoe. She figured so much in her world needed changing. Including herself.
    “Griffin, did you hear?” said Libby, running up to her.
    “Hear what?”
    “At Samantha’s party! Her dad bought paintball guns asa surprise so everyone could play in their huge backyard, but the paint cartridges overheated and exploded—a giant paint bomb splattered everywhere!”
    Every hair on Griffin’s arms stood up. “Really?” she said, bug-eyed. Did I wish that? she thought. A paint bomb!
    “Hey, Griffin! Hi, Libby,” said Garrett, coming up to them.
    “Hi, Garrett,” said Griffin.
    “How was Samantha’s party? Did you go?” said Libby.
    “Yeah, she and some girls came to my house and practically dragged me to the party. Then her parents freaked when paintballs exploded and grafittied their lawn furniture. All the food was ruined and everyone just went home covered in paint. I had to take, like, three showers to get the paint off.”
    Griffin stared.
    “Wow!” said Libby.
    Griffin’s heart plummeted. Had her wish caused the paint to explode on all the kids? Were tendrils of darkness overtaking her, winding their way around her soul as she stood there? I need to work faster, try harder, and return these wishes, she thought.
    “Griffin?” said Libby and Garrett at the same time. Her face had turned white.
    “Yeah, sorry. I spaced,” she said.
    “Bye. See you at lunch,” Libby said,