Who Needs Magic? by Kathy McCullough

Author:Kathy McCullough [McCullough, Kathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-375-89892-1
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2013-07-09T04:00:00+00:00

chapter eleven

“Wow, are those really for sale?” I step down into the sunken living room to get a better view.

Nancy consults a booklet she was handed when we arrived. “Two hundred dollars apiece. Not bad, but I’m not sure of the resale potential.”

I spin around in a 360 and count them. Thirty. Thirty two-foot-tall Statues of Liberty, standing proudly along a wide shelf that must’ve been built for them. I take a picture and send it to Flynn. Even though he hasn’t called me in days. I’m trying not to worry about it. Ha.

When Nancy invited me to come along to the estate sale, I agreed because I needed a break from the mental loop that keeps playing in my head. Do I give up on Jeni? I can’t, because I’m meant to grant her wish. I don’t see how I can do that, though, since she doesn’t want the wish. So I guess that means I have to give up. But I can’t … etc.

The house is owned by some folk singer who’s decided to move to Ireland and raise sheep. It’s not some big movie-star mansion. It’s in a nice but normal neighborhood, and from the outside it looks like all the other houses. But inside, it’s definitely … interesting. Nancy’s already loaded her pickup with furniture and we’ve only been through three rooms. “We better head upstairs,” Nancy says. “The sale opens to the public in half an hour, and I don’t want you to miss your chance.” Nancy’s on some list that gets her in early. It meant waking up at seven, but it’s been worth it so far, both as a distraction and for the entertainment value. In addition to the Statues of Liberty, I’ve seen a couch shaped like a giant mouth, a creepy collection of dolls with dried apples for heads, and a library room with an entire wall of shelves devoted to The Little Prince. Over a hundred copies at least. Paperback and hardcover, in like forty different languages. “It’s the owner’s favorite book,” an estate sale worker informed us, as if I couldn’t have guessed that on my own.

Lourdes would love this place too. On the way up the spiral staircase to the second floor, I snap a couple of photos to send her: a tiny topiary shamrock on a built-in shelf and a mural of snakes on the wall that seem to slither past as you walk by. When we get upstairs, there are already a few other early shoppers in the master bedroom, rifling through the closets.

“Psst! Nancy!” A thin man at the end of the hall gestures to us.

“That’s Ryan,” Nancy whispers to me. “He helps run the sale. He always steers me to the best finds before everybody else.”

Ryan leads us into a small guest room. The walls of this room are painted in wavy stripes of green and gold, like the surface of the ocean at dusk. The apartment I lived in with Mom had some

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