Three Evil Wishes (5 page)

“What are we going to do?” Jesse whispered.

“We have to get him out of here. He's too weird. Mom and Dad will never believe he's a normal kid.”

I nodded. “I know. But how can we get rid of him?”

“Maybe we should make two more wishes—real quick,” Jesse suggested. “We could—”

“Too dangerous,” I interrupted. “We have to be careful. Our first wish was a disaster.”

“But we know we want to do something about the Burger brothers—right?” Jesse insisted.

I shook my head. “I'm not so sure. It's all too dangerous. And Gene is
so
weird. He might mess up again and do something terrible to us.”

Jesse gazed over my shoulder at the bedroom door. “It's very quiet in there,” he whispered. “I don't hear the TV anymore.”

“Maybe we should make two
dumb
wishes,” I suggested. “You know—ask for a closet full of candy bars and a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Just to get rid of him.”

“No way,” Jesse replied sharply. “I just keep picturing my backpack, all soaked and drenched in mud. My science project that I worked six weeks on—totally ruined.”

Jesse sighed. “I really want to pay back Mike and Roy. I really do.”

“I think it's a bad idea,” I insisted. “I don't think we can trust Gene. I think we have to get rid of him as fast as we can.”

“Dinner!”
Mom's call from downstairs interrupted our discussion.

“We'll be right down!” I called back.

Jesse and I hurried back to Jesse's room to get Gene. “Do you think he'll be okay at dinner?” I whispered.

But Jesse had no chance to answer.

We pushed open the bedroom door—and both of us gasped in horror.

F
irst I saw bolts and wires and sheets of metal strewn over the bedroom carpet. Then I saw the TV's picture tube lying on its side in front of the dresser.

Knobs and electronic parts and circuit boards were piled beside the bed. The cable box had been taken apart. Pieces of it rested at the foot of the bed.

Gene had his back to us. He was busily pulling the speaker from what was left of the TV.

“I—I don't
believe
it!” Jesse croaked.

“Gene—what are you
doing?”
I shrieked. “You took apart the whole TV!”

He lowered the speaker to the floor. Then he
turned to us. “Just trying to figure out how it works,” he replied with a grin. He shook his head. “Hoo. So many parts.”

“But—but—but—” my brother sputtered.

“Don't worry,” Gene assured him. “I'm pretty sure I can get it back together.” He scratched his head. “Pretty sure,” he muttered.

“Dinner!”
Mom called from downstairs.

“My TV!” Jesse wailed. “I've had it for only a few weeks!”

“What does this do?” Gene asked. He held up a long metal tube.

“How should I know?” Jesse snapped furiously.

“Genies are very curious,” Gene said, studying the tube. “You need to be curious to be a genie. If you aren't curious, you'll never learn anything—right?”

Jesse grabbed Gene by the shoulders and tugged him away from the TV. “You're not supposed to be a genie now, remember? You're supposed to be a friend who's staying for dinner.”

“Do you think you can act normal?” I asked the genie. “Don't give Mom and Dad any reason to think you're weird—okay?”

“Hoo. That's easy,” Gene replied, following us out of the room. “I do know how to eat. It won't be any problem.”

I felt so nervous as we entered the dining room.
We usually eat in the kitchen. But since we had a guest, Gene, Mom and Dad set the table in the dining room.

Gene sat between Jesse and me on one side of the table. Mom and Dad were at the ends.

I had a sudden urge to blurt out the truth: “Gene isn't a kid. He's really a genie. He's been inside a bottle for a hundred years. Jesse and I pulled him out, and he's giving us three wishes.”

But I knew Mom and Dad wouldn't believe me. They'd think it was some kind of dumb joke.

So I didn't say anything.

Instead, I tried to fight down my nervousness. And I silently prayed that Gene wouldn't do anything weird or embarrassing.

“Hannah, pass the pizza to Gene first,” Dad instructed. He took a deep breath, inhaling the pizza aroma. “Mmmm. It looks great. Plenty of pepperoni. I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving!”

I picked up the pizza tray by the edges and held it out to Gene.

“Thank you very much,” he said politely. “It does look really good.”

Then he reached both hands to the tray.

He rolled the entire pizza up.

And slid the whole thing into his mouth.

*   *   *

After dinner I hurried out to my studio in the garage. I had to get out of the house. Away from that crazy genie.

Poor Mom and Dad.

They didn't know what to say when Gene ate the whole pizza.

They had stared at him in amazement for the longest time. Then Mom went into the kitchen, opened a can of tuna fish, and made sandwiches for the rest of us.

Gene smiled and talked about his heartburn, and acted as if he hadn't done anything wrong. Mom and Dad kept flashing me glances like “What is this kid's problem?” I could see that Dad was really angry.

Jesse hurried Gene upstairs. And I ran out to my studio. Barky followed me. I got to work on my self-portrait. I hoped that working with clay would help me feel better about Gene and wishes and pizza!

I carved away at the chin, making it a little pointier. Then I worked on the hair, the nose, and the hands. Before I knew it, an hour had gone by.

“Oh, boy, Barky, I've been working a long time.” I yawned and stretched.

Barky turned toward the open garage door. He growled a low, angry growl.

“What's up, boy?” I asked.

That's when I heard it. The scraping sound of skateboard wheels.

Get a grip, Hannah, I thought. It's probably just Tori on her Big Wheels again.

But Tori wouldn't be out this late—would she?

“Ark! Ark! Ark!” my dog yapped.

My heart began thumping in my chest.

“Ark! Ark! Ark!”

I took a deep breath and went back to my work. I hoped that maybe, if I just concentrated on my sculpture, they would go away.

I wasn't that lucky.

“Hey—yo!” Mike Burger hopped off his skateboard and burst into the garage.

“Yo—hey!” His brother Roy did the same.

A chill ran up my spine. The clay fell out of my hand.

“What are you two creeps doing here? Isn't it past your bedtime?” I snapped.

“Yo. What's up?” Mike asked.

Roy stepped up to my sculpture of myself. “Who's this?” he grunted. “Your dog?”

“No way. That's a pig!” Mike declared.

They both tossed back their pudgy, round heads and giggled like hyenas. “Huh-huh-huh-huh.”

“Ha-ha. Remind me to laugh,” I muttered. “Would you two please leave? I'm trying to work and—
hey!”

I cried out as Roy pulled the head off my sculpture. “Mike—think fast!” He heaved it across the garage to his brother.

“Stop it! Give it back!” I screamed.

I jumped up and dove at Mike. He held it up high, out of my reach.

“What do you think, Roy—dog or pig?” Mike asked his brother.

He tossed the head back to Roy.

“Monkey,” Roy replied, catching the head against his chest.

“Hey, yeah,” Mike agreed. “Just like this monkey in the middle!”

They tossed the head back and forth to each other. I ran between them, reaching up to catch the head—and missing. Barky ran furiously back and forth too, barking his head off.

Each time one of the Burgers caught the head, the wet clay made a sickening
splat.
And I could see the head squish flatter and flatter.

“Please stop!” I begged. “You don't know how long I worked on that!”

Roy grinned. “Okay. You can have it back.
Catch!”

He flung the head straight up in the air.

I watched it sail up until it hit the ceiling of the garage. It stuck for a moment. Then started to fall.

I made a diving catch.

The head brushed against my fingertips. Then it splattered on the concrete floor at my feet.

I knelt by the head of my sculpture.

I picked it up. A gray, shapeless blob.

My face turned red hot. My whole body trembled with anger.

“Nice try, butterfingers,” Roy giggled.

“Looks
better
to me,” Mike chimed in. “I think we fixed it!”

They hooted and howled.

Then they climbed back on their skateboards and disappeared.

Okay, Burgers, I thought. You asked for it. This time you messed with me once too often.

It's payback time.

I
found Jesse and Gene in Jesse's room. Gene was down on his hands and knees, puzzling over the pieces of the TV set.

I dragged Jesse to my room and told him that I agreed with him. “We have to make a wish to pay back the Burger brothers. But how should we ask it? We have to be careful.”

“Let's just turn them into bugs or something,” Jesse suggested.

I shook my head. “They already
are
bugs!” I grumbled.

I thought for a moment. “How about if we wish that they get stuck to their skateboards permanently!”

Jesse shook his head. “Not good,” he murmured. “They'd probably
like
that!”

“You're right,” I agreed. I rubbed the palms of my hands together, thinking. “What if we made them really fat? So fat they could barely move?”

Jesse made a face. “I don't think making them
bigger
is such a good idea.”

“True,” I agreed. “We don't need the Burger brothers any bigger than they already are.”

I shut my eyes and tried to think of terrible things Gene could do to the Burgers. But each time, I thought of ways Gene could get it wrong.

Jesse turned to me and smiled. “I've got it! We'll wish for Mike and Roy to be
terrified
of us—just the way we are!”

“Hmm . . . sounds good,” I said.

“Every time they look at us, they'll shake from fear,” Jesse continued excitedly. “Imagine them running away from us—the two shrimpiest kids in class!”

I thought it over. As hard as I tried, I couldn't think of any way Gene could mess it up. “It's perfect,” I declared. “There's no way we could get hurt if we make that wish.”

“All right!” Jesse pumped his fist in the air. “Let's make the wish right now! I can't wait!”

Jesse and I dragged Gene away from the TV pieces and brought him into my room.

“Okay, Gene, listen up. We have a very important wish to make,” I shouted.

Gene held his ears. “Hoo. You don't have to yell. I'm not deaf, you know. Go ahead. Make your wish. But don't give me a headache first!”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I'm just a little excited.”

“So—make a wish!” the genie demanded impatiently.

Jesse cleared his throat. “We wish for Mike and Roy Burger to be terrified of us.”

“But you can't
change
us at all,” I added. “They have to be scared of us
the way we are.”

Gene bowed. “That's an easy one. A lot easier than putting the TV back together.”

I bit my lip and waited for Gene to do his stuff—hoping he wouldn't mess up this time. I could feel my hands sweating. I wiped them on my jeans and crossed my fingers.

“Please, please let this work!” I begged.

Gene closed his eyes. He waved his arms and hips around in his crazy hula. In a moment, he turned himself into a cloud of sour purple smoke.