On the Day I Died by Candace Fleming

paw—whoever owned it could have three wishes granted from it.” Mrs. Alvarez snorted again. “Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? Sounds like something from some kids’ book, doesn’t it?”
    She didn’t wait for us to answer, just plowed on.
    “I couldn’t help myself, now, could I? I had to ask. ‘Did you make your wishes?’ I ask Mr. Patel. ‘Were they granted?’ And you know, Mr. Patel’s face turned white as a corpse. He looked toward the ruin of his house, just stared at it for a while. Then he slowly nodded. ‘They were,’ he says to me, moaning. ‘God help me, they were.’ Then he threw the paw down. ‘Get rid of it, Mrs. Alvarez. Do this last favor for me and destroy it.”
    “But you didn’t,” I said. “Destroy it, I mean.”
    “Of course not! Why throw away something that might make a little money?” Mrs. Alvarez turned her attention to the pile of coins and bills Drew had put in front of her. After counting it—her bleeding red lips moving silently—she chirped, “And see? I was right. I’m twenty bucks richer.”
    Afterward, we drove to Woodfield Mall. It seemed like all of Schaumburg High School was there, flitting and cutting loose beneath the artificial lights. It reminded me of that scene from
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
where Puck and the other fairies cavort through the forest, feasting and frolicking and causing trouble. I waved to some girls from last semester’s chem class, proud to be seen with Collin’s arm around my shoulders. A couple.
The
couple. Like Hamlet and Ophelia, or Rosalind and Orlando.
    Collin and Lily.
    Lovers eternal, side by side
.
    At the food court, Drew begged me for money for a pretzel.
    “Come on, Lily,” he whined. “I’m broke and I’m starving.”
    “Neither a borrower nor a lender be,”
I replied, taking a sip of my Diet Coke. “Guess you’ll just have to wish for it.”
    Drew pulled the monkey paw out of his pocket, held it above his head and said dramatically, “O magic monkey paw, I wish for … Naw, forget it.”
    “What?” asked Collin. “Afraid it won’t work?”
    “Afraid to waste a wish.” Drew grinned. “I mean, why ask for a lousy pretzel when I could ask to be a rock star or a gazillionaire? Besides, my generous, good-natured and, might I add, handsome big brother will buy me one, won’t you, bro?”
    “Only if you promise to wish me into being the greatest guitar player who ever lived.”
    “You got it,” said Drew.
    “Then your wish is my command.” Collin handed Drew a five-dollar bill.
    Drew scampered off to the pretzel line.
    Alone, finally. Collin reached across the table and knit his fingers through mine. “If wishes really did come true, what would you wish for?” he asked.
    I thought a moment. “I don’t know. I have everything I want—a summer job, college next fall at Northwestern, you.
Especially
you.”
    His blue eyes warmed, and his beautiful mouth smiled. “Yeah, likewise,” he said.
    His words, so tender, freed my spirit. I wanted to shout to the sky, join the birds in their singing. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him. And as always, I was instantly caught up in the scent of him, made dizzy by his closeness.
    Eternity was in our lips and eyes
.
    “What’d I miss?” interrupted Drew, plopping down beside us.
    Collin pulled away, and I felt a tiny pang of loss, as if some part of me had been misplaced.
    “We were just talking about wishes,” said Collin.
    “Did you say wishes, or kisses?” joked Drew, his mouth full of pretzel.
    “Hah, funny,” I said.
    “Besides a sense of humor,” Collin asked him, “what else would you wish for?”
    In reply, Drew wiped his greasy fingers down the front of his jeans, then pulled the monkey paw out of his pocket again. Winking at me, he once more held it above his head, and intoned, “O magic monkey paw, I wish for a 1972 Gran Torino with optional laser stripe and Magnum 500 wheels.”
    The lights in the mall