There's a Spaceship in My Tree! by Robert West Page A

“Scilla tried to close the book back up when she saw it was a diary, but I saw that about the tree and, well, I just had to know — ”
    â€œYes, I see,” she interrupted him, looking down at the page. She closed the book and latched it. “You must learn to balance what you want with respect for the property of others.” She spoke with a husky voice that was somehow deep and strong but quiet at the same time.
    â€œYes, Ma’am.” They all nodded together like a church choir.
    â€œI recognize that I am partly to blame,” Ms. Parker stated as she returned the book to its shelf. “I was in such a hurry to find a lamp when the lights went out that I failed to return the book to its proper place.” She locked the glass door and turned back to them.
    Looking from one to the other, she seemed to be sizing them up in a way that was downright unnerving. “So you are the children who are playing in the tree house these days.”
    They all nodded their heads at once, with a stream of “uh-huhs.”
    â€œNot just anyone can play in that tree house, you know. Those with malice in their hearts have always found the experience to be . . . nightmarish. I don’t know how or why.”
    She paused a moment, then continued, “So, I can assume you have no malice?”
    They shook their heads from side to side simultaneously, with a chorus of “huh-uhs.”
    â€œGo ahead, sit back down,” she gestured to them abruptly. They did so without taking their eyes off her. The thud of her cane on the wooden floor made a strange beat with her shuffling steps. “How much do you know about the meteor?”
    â€œI . . . ,” stammered Beamer, “I saw it on display in the museum, but it didn’t say it split the tree in half.”
    â€œI’ve seen it too,” said Ghoulie. “It’s just an ugly old rock.”
    â€œYes, you’re right, of course,” Ms. Parker croaked. “But things can be more than they seem. Do you have any idea how many wishes were spent on that rock during the short time it flashed through the sky back in the spring of 1919?”
    â€œWell, no,” Ghoulie mumbled with a shrug. “They’re just wishes . . . superstitions. Nothing ever comes of them.”
    â€œYeah,” muttered Beamer. “I wished on one the day we moved in, but it didn’t do any good.” He plopped back into his chair. “We’re still here. My wish didn’t come true — not even close.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you,” the aged woman said, pointing her cane first at Ghoulie, then at Beamer. “Wishes are not for the fainthearted. A wish, you see,” she went on as she slowly moved toward them, “is a piece of a dream. And a dream — oh, not one of those little nighttime wisps that flee when you wake up, but the kind that stick with you by day as well as night — a dream is very powerful. Maybe the most powerful force on earth.”
    â€œOh, brother,” Ghoulie muttered to Scilla. “It’s a rock, not plutonium.”
    â€œMy hearing’s very good, young man,” Ms. Parker said as she turned back toward the shamefaced boy. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
    Ghoulie slid from his chair, swallowing hard, and walked hesitantly toward her.
    As he approached, she held out her hand, palm down. “What do you see there?” she asked.
    Ghoulie’s eyes became enormous, as only Ghoulie’s could. “A diamond!” he gasped. “The biggest one I ever heard of.”
    Beamer and Scilla leaped from their chairs and crowded in beside him, straining to see. True enough, the ring on her finger held a glittering stone bigger than a marble shooter.
    â€œNo, it’s just a rock,” she corrected him. She moved toward the window, her cane making a clopping beat on the floor with every other step. “Without