Free Wishing Day by Lauren Myracle Page A

could wanting something make it come true? Because on her Wishing Day, Natasha’s last wish had been to be someone’s favorite. To be seen as special just for being herself.
    Benton’s notes (which was how she thought of them, even though she didn’t know for sure that he’d written them) had made her feel special. Absolutely! And today, when he looked at her the way he did, that made her feel special too. When he’d said there was more to her than people thought, her stomach had flipped over.
    Except then he took off without a backward glance. He said, “See you around,” but there wasn’t anything special about “see you around.”
    So it was confusing. He’d flirted with her at her locker, but he never beckoned her over during lunch, like he had with Belinda. He never patted the table he was sitting at, encouraging her to hop up on it so they could talk.
    And! Who said the notes were from Benton anyway?! She’d let herself imagine that he’d written them, and somehow the possibility of Benton being her secret admirer had lodged in her heart as truth. But what if that was just wishful thinking?
    Wishful thinking . Of course it was wishful thinking. Making wishes, by definition, was wishful thinking.
    Natasha sighed. She had a hard time imagining herself ever perching on a lunchroom table, to be honest. But maybe thinking wishfully required taking risks. Maybe she could be that girl, adored by a boy who grabbed her feet and playfully swung them back and forth.
    Or not.
    She stared at the ceiling, which was a good ceiling, with a familiar pattern of cracks that she’d turned into a multitude of things over the years. Anold man’s profile. A chapel. A duck.
    Today she made a question mark out of the cracks. It was a stretch, but it suited her purpose. There were so many things she didn’t know!
    Her third Wishing Day wish was to be somebody’s favorite. The wish before that was to be kissed, and according to the Wishing Day rules, she was supposed to make that wish come true herself.
    But how???
    Benton was the boy she wanted to be kissed by, if she was going to be kissed by anyone. But what was she supposed to do? Approach him in the hall, grab his shoulders, and pucker up? Find him in the cafeteria and say, “Hey, Benton, want to smooch?” Hide by the path he took to school and pounce on him when he came strolling along?
    No, no, and no, with an especially big no to the hide-by-the-path scenario. She’d scare him to death if she sprang out at him with no warning. She’d scare herself to death. They’d both fall over, dead, and foxes would feast on their bodies.
    Or, worse, she’d jump out, waggle her hands and arms, and go “Boogidy-boogidy-boo!” like the bogeyman. She wouldn’t want to. She just would, accidentally, for the simple reason that the idea had floated into herimagination and was now lodged there forever.
    Ugh. No. You will not go boogidy-boogidy-boo to Benton , Natasha , she told herself firmly. Understand?
    She shifted positions, taking her hands out from beneath her head and splaying her arms wide, palms up. She tried to relax her muscles and let them “fall off her bones,” a phrase she’d picked up from her gym teacher during a unit on yoga.
    It was a horrible phrase when taken literally. Wonderfully horrible, and she and Molly had latched onto it for that very reason. For almost a month, they let their muscles fall off their bones every chance they got.
    â€œSorry, Mom, but I can’t,” Molly would call from her bedroom, when her mother asked her to come back downstairs and clean up her dishes. “I’m letting my muscles fall off my bones!”
    Or Molly and Natasha would flop onto the lawn of the school courtyard and spread out their arms and legs like stars.
    â€œWhat’s new?” Natasha would ask.
    â€œOh, nothing, just letting my muscles fall off my