Wishes Come in Threes by Andy Jones

Author:Andy Jones [Jones, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781529509823
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2022-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

Hilda laughing at me is nothing new. In fact, it’s very old. It’s how repetitive and boring it is that’s most annoying.

But I tell myself: be like Dog. Jump this wave, let it pass beneath your feet.

I’m working on my necklace for Mum, using Jody’s tools to file down the rough edges on my best bits of glass. Right now I’m concentrating on the red piece that Clark gave to me at the cove. This piece will sit in the centre of the necklace – it’s the most important piece of all, so I’m being extra-specially careful.

But it’s hard to concentrate with Hilda and the Horribles sniggering at me.

They are huddled over something – it’s hidden beneath the table – and they whisper and point their faces at me, as if daring me to ask what’s so funny. But whatever it is, it won’t be funny; it will simply be annoying.

I’m doing a good job of ignoring them – of jumping the waves – until Hilda says something that turns my head. What she says is this:

“Poor Hedgehog.”

And when she says it, she smirks.

I turn to face her. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she says. And then she adds, “Hedgehog.”

The name Mum and Dad call me. The name no one else knows.

“What are you on about, Hilda?” I say it with as much bravery as I can, but something isn’t right about this and I feel as if the room is slowly tilting, as if everything is about to come crashing down.

“What’s that?” I say, pointing to whatever it is they have hidden under the table.

“Just a book. Found it on the floor.”

“What book?”

But I have a horrible feeling that I know the answer to my question.

“It’s about this girl,” Hilda says. “Who believes in magic. Honestly, she’s eleven and she believes in … genies!”

Hilda has my Book of Forts. I carry it in my bag so that if an idea comes to me I can write it down straight away. And now Hilda has it. My heart is beating fast and my face is hot. But I keep my voice calm.

“You went in my bag,” I say.

But Hilda ignores me.

“Oh, and she has a crush on this boy,” says Hilda, laughing. “But that’s even more ridiculous than believing in genies.”

You can handle them, Clark said when I not-exactly joked he was leaving me to the mercy of Hilda and the Horribles. Easy for him to say, harder for me to actually do with Hilda reading from my book of most personal thoughts, worries and hopes.

“Stop it,” I say, trying to make myself sound as brave as I can.

But my words are quiet and unconvincing and they bounce off Hilda’s smug confidence. Clark’s seashell bracelet was meant to inspire fear in my enemies, but against Hilda it’s as weak and useless as my voice.

“You can’t blame her, though,” Hilda says. “Her mother’s mental, you see. She locks herself up in her room and cries all the time. So it’s no wonder this girl’s a bit weird.

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