The Wishing Game(79)

“Ms. Hyde?” Jack said. “Would you care to do the honors?”

The whip-slim lawyer stood up. She faced them with an icy smile. “One last little question…for five points and to win the game,” Ms. Hyde said, “and as Jack said, you may phone a friend…What two words appear on page 129 of The Secret of Clock Island paperback edition, copyright 2005? You have five minutes to answer. Oh, and you cannot leave the room.”

Lucy gasped. Melanie looked shell-shocked. Andre put his hand over his mouth. Was he smiling behind his hand, or had his jaw dropped?

At once, he and Melanie began scrolling through their phones. Lucy held her phone like a dead thing in her hand, hardly able to believe Jack would do this to her. The one person she could call wouldn’t talk to her over the phone; Christopher wouldn’t talk to anyone over the phone. She’d given him her entire Clock Island collection, though. He was still her best shot at winning this thing. She sucked in a deep breath and called Mrs. Bailey’s cell, already dreading the extra time it would take using her as a go-between but having no choice. Only Christopher would know at a glance of the spines which book she was after.

Andre had already gotten someone to answer. “Baby, put Marcus on the phone right now.” A pause. “Don’t ask questions, Marcus. You run to your room right now and get a book off your shelves. It’s a Clock Island book.” Another pause. “What? Who’d you trade them to? You traded my Clock Island books? We’re going to talk about that when I get home. Right now, you get your mother’s phone and call her.”

Melanie was scrolling through her phone contacts. She stopped on one name, dialed. “Jen? I need you to run to the Clock Island books on the shelf, see if we have number thirty-two.”

Lucy’s call went to voice mail. It took all of her willpower not to bean Jack with her phone. She could feel Hugo’s eyes on her. Lucy called again, betting that Mrs. Bailey was probably just in the next room with the twins. With every ring, precious seconds were draining away. When it went to voice mail again, she simply redialed. Someone had to hear her calling over and over in that house. Where was Mr. Bailey? Even though she knew Christopher wouldn’t pick up, there was still a chance he would see she was calling if the phone was sitting out on the counter.

If you’re there, Christopher, get Mrs. Bailey to answer her damn phone, she said in her mind like a prayer. It’s your mother calling.





Chapter Twenty-Seven





In his bedroom, Christopher was packing his clothes into his bag. It was a nice bag. Mrs. Bailey had gone to the Goodwill that day and bought him his own suitcase. He’d never had a suitcase of his own, and this was a really cool one. It was blue and red with a rocket ship with the words Blast off! on it in big letters made of smoke. It had some scuffs and scrapes, but otherwise it was nice and looked almost new after Mrs. Bailey wiped it off with Windex and some paper towels. Better than the last time he moved when all his stuff had to go into a garbage bag. His books that Lucy had given him would go into a cardboard box Mrs. Bailey promised to find for him. Maybe he should ask her about that. He couldn’t leave his books behind, but she had taken the babies for a walk around the block, and Mr. Bailey was asleep in their bedroom and wouldn’t get up until it was time to start his night job.

Christopher remembered that sometimes there were cardboard boxes by the back door set aside for recycling. He’d feel better once his Clock Island books were packed up and ready to go with him. Mrs. Bailey had told him his new foster family, Jim and Susan Mattingly, were a really nice couple with two kids in college, and they’d decided they weren’t ready for an “empty nest.” He thought that meant they kept pet birds, but Mrs. Bailey explained that just meant their kids were growing up and leaving home.

He found the recycling area in the kitchen, but it looked like the boxes in it this week were all too small.

Maybe he’d better wait for Mrs. Bailey to come back inside to help him find a box. Until then, he’d open the fridge to look for a Capri Sun. They didn’t have them all the time because Mrs. Bailey said they were expensive, but because he was leaving this week, she’d bought a bunch for him.

As he drank his fruit punch Capri Sun—his favorite because it was the sweetest one, and it always turned his tongue red—he thought about his plan. He was going to be really good at the Mattinglys’ house and make them see how smart he was and how well he could read. After a day or two, he’d tell them about Lucy, and if they were as nice as he hoped, then they would let Lucy move in with them too. She could be his mom and they could be his grandparents, and everybody would be happy. He didn’t remember much about his grandparents—they’d died even before his parents did—but he did remember his grandpa being funny and laughing loud and giving him great big hugs and throwing him in the air and catching him. Life would be great with a mom and a grandpa.

It would be really great. It would be the best. And Mrs. Bailey said the Mattinglys were “supernice.” He liked the sound of “supernice.” But if he liked the sound of “supernice” so much, why was he crying so hard?

The phone began buzzing in the hallway. Christopher sniffed and sat up. He got out of the chair and went to check it, since Mrs. Bailey was still out with the babies. She’d told him to let her know if the Mattinglys called.