The Wish by Gail Carson Levine Page A

or like her
    Anymore.
    Maybe tomorrow the tides
    Will stop.
    Maybe tomorrow will bring
    No more rainbows.
    Maybe tomorrow
    She will stop
    Asking useless questions.
    Â 
    It was signed, “From Jared Fein.” The next one was:
    Â 
    I like you because . . .
    We held hands and I liked it
    We kissed and I liked it
    We even talked and I liked it
    I like you because . . .
    We held hands and you liked it
    We kissed and you liked it
    We talked and you liked it
    I like you because . . .
    You’re kind to dogs
    And seals
    And me
    I like you because . . .
    Â 
    He was the poet! Now that I knew, it made the other poems even better. They were beautiful. I felt like a movie star, having poems like that written to me.
    I turned to the front of the book. The pages were so full of writing, you could hardly see the photos. I found Ardis’s picture again. In the margin above her face, she had written, “You goof! I like you because you’re Reggie’s owner! And many, many more reasons. Love, Ardis.”
    What reasons? I wished she had told me!
    Daphne had scribbled over her photo, so I guess she thought it was bad. She wrote, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
    When I read the other kids’ messages, I was bewildered. What they wrote didn’t make sense. They thought they were writing about me, but they weren’t. A sixth grader wrote inside the front cover, “I like you because you know what I’m really like.” But I hardly knew her! Erica wrote that I never made judgments about her. Which was true, but only because I didn’t know her well enough to make them. I think BeeBee summed up what everybody was saying. She wrote, “I like you because you like me through and through.”
    Then I figured it out. I was like a celebrity. People felt about me the way you feel about an actor you love. You see his movies and then you read about him in magazines. You find out he likes the same kind of music as you, or maybe he has a dog. And then you discover that his parents got divorced when he was nine, and yours did too. You start thinking, If he knew me, he’d really like me. Pretty soon you feel he does know you, and if he saw you on the street, he’d recognize you as his soul mate, and you’d fall into each other’s arms.
    My celebrity status made them imagine I knew their secret, best selves. But to stay a celebrity, I had to find the old lady. And she wasn’t anywhere.
    Â 
    Saturday. Nine more days.
    In the morning, I met Daphne in Sheep Meadow in Central Park. Her sheepdog, Samson, kept trying to herd Reggie while they played.
    â€œIt’s easy to have friends if you’re a dog,” I said. “If you don’t bite and you smell right, you’re in.”
    â€œYeah. Nobody says your ears are pointy so I don’t like you.” Daphne sat on the grass.
    I joined her. “Are you studying for finals?”
    â€œYeah. This is the last daylight I’ll see this weekend.”
    â€œMom isn’t letting me talk on the phone,” I said. “When it rings, she picks it up and sounds like an answering machine. ‘I’m sorry. Wilma can’t come to the phone right now.’”
    â€œAt least your phone rings. I don’t know why you envy dogs. You make friends faster than they do. Everybody’s your friend.”
    â€œEverybody at school.”
    â€œWho else is there?”
    Nobody else.
    We watched the dogs. Reggie had picked up a stick and was prancing off with it, chased by Samson.
    â€œI’m not just studying,” she added. “I’m also working on my valedictory speech.”
    â€œWhat are you going to say?”
    â€œI’ve been trying to think of a way to say how much I’ve hated Claverford without anybody knowing that’s what I’m saying.”
    â€œWhy can’t they know?”
    â€œBecause they look at the speech ahead of