The Sisters Club (14 page)

“What is it?” asked Joey.

“Wishing paper,” said Alex.

The paper was so wispy-thin, you could almost see through it. On the front were gold and birds and red stamps of Chinese characters.

“We each get one,” said Alex. “You write down your wishes, then throw them into the fire. We can take turns burning our wishing papers in the candle.”

“Did you ask Mom if we’re allowed to do this?” I asked.

“Yes, but we have to do it over a cookie sheet. I promised.”

“Do we have to say ‘Sisters, Blisters, and Tongue Twisters’?” Joey asked.

“Yep. Good idea, Duck. Then our wishes will go into the universe and come back true.”

“Can it be a dream?” Joey asked.

“It can be a dream,” Alex said.

After we sent our wishes out into the universe, Joey and I helped Alex blow out all the candles. I curled up into my sleeping bag, with my new Stevie pillowcase on my pillow. The room smelled all cinnamon-y, like it remembered the burning of candles.

Before I fell asleep, I thought about my tiny wishes, floating out there in the wide, wide universe, under the Full Long-Night Moon. I imagined my wishes floating right next to Alex’s and Joey’s, high up as a star. Maybe our wishes would make their own constellation, one that kids would point to on summer nights, saying, “Hey, isn’t that the Three Sisters?”

“I wish I was ten,” Joey said to the dark.

“You’re not supposed to say what you wished for!” said Alex.

“That wasn’t my wish for the universe. I just thought of it right now.”

“How come ten?” Alex asked.

“’Cause ten’s the BEST age,” I said.

“In
The Long Winter,
Laura Ingalls Wilder says —” Joey began.

“Here we go,” I said.

“You read
The Long Winter
?” asked Alex. “
The Long Winter
is like the longest book in the world. Even I never finished it.”

“Longer than Dad’s all-time favorite,
War and Peace
?” I asked.

“In
The Long Winter,
it says Baby Carrie was not really a sister until she was ten. When she turned ten, Laura said she was old enough to really be a sister.”

“Go to sleep, Joey,” said Alex.

“You’re really a sister,” I whispered to Joey before we fell asleep.

The only sounds now were the heartbeat tick of the clock, the hum and creak of house noises, and Alex breathing.

I lay on the rug between my sisters, Alex on one side, Joey on the other, like perfect bookends. I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

In the middle.

All of a sudden, Alex shrieked and slammed
down the cover of the laptop. Good thing Dad was out in his garage/studio/workshop.

“Alex, you better be careful with that,” I cautioned her.

“What are you looking up every five seconds, anyway?” Joey asked.

“The Drama Club is putting on a new play, and Mr. Cannon said they’d be announcing what it will be on the website by five o’clock today.”

“It’s only 4:33,” I pointed out.

“
By
five o’clock,” she said, like I’d never heard the word before. “Not
at
five o’clock. That could mean before five.”

“Sheesh.” Sometimes
sheesh
is all you can say when your sister’s a DQ (Drama-not-Dairy Queen).

“What do you think it’ll be?” Joey asked.

“I hope, hope, hope it’s
Romeo and Juliet,
” Alex said. Surprise, surprise. She’d been wanting to play Juliet since the Beginning of Time (Jurassic period).

“I hope it’s
Little Women,
” said Joey.

“You have
Little Women
on the brain,” said Alex. “Besides, it’s too sad, because of Beth —”

I reached up and covered Alex’s mouth with my hand. She’d almost blown it, giving it away about Beth dying, but my hand got there in time, so it just sounded like
E-I-E-I-O-
ing.

“What’s too sad? What about Beth?” Joey shrieked, then covered her own ears. “No, wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Twinkle, twinkle, little star!” she started screeching at the top of her lungs, to drown out Alex just in case.

“Sorry,” Alex said.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I told Alex. “You know the play’s going to be a musical.”

“Nah-uh.”

“Yah-huh. Think about it.
High School Musical. Wicked. Dreamgirls. Lion King. Hair. Legally Blonde.
Even
Young Frankenstein.
Everything’s a musical.”

“Little Mermaid,”
Joey added.

“Wherefore art thou — doesn’t anybody do Shakespeare anymore?” Alex said, slumping down into the big stuffed chair.

“What’s so bad about musicals?” Joey asked.

“Duh!” Alex looked up. “Musicals have music, Little, and with music, you have to sing.”

“What’s wrong with that? You sing in the shower all the time.”

“Yeah, where nobody but Sock Monkey can hear me,” said Alex.

“
I
hear you,” Joey and I said at the same time, then cracked up.

“Shh! Quiet, you guys. I can’t think. Wait, here it is! I think this is it. Mr. Cannon must have posted it. After much discussion . . . blah, blah . . . sure you’ll be as pleased . . . blah, blah . . . we are happy to announce . . . this year’s Drama Club production . . . blah, blah . . .
Once Upon a Mattress,
the musical!” Alex announced. 

Once upon a time . . . to buy earplugs!

MEGAN McDONALD
is the author of the best-selling Judy Moody series and its companion series starring Judy's younger brother, Stink. As the youngest of five sisters, she knows all about the real-life ups and downs of sisterhood. Megan McDonald lives in Sebastopol, California.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2003, 2008 by Megan McDonald
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Pamela A. Consolazio

“This Is Just to Say” by William Carlos Williams, from
Collected Poems: 1909–1939,
Volume 1, copyright 1938 by New Directions Publishing Corp. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.

“My Love” by Tony Hatch © 1966 by Welbeck Music Ltd.
All rights administered by Songs Of Universal, Inc. (BMI).
Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Special thanks to Eliza Broaddus for the poem “I’m Sorry” on page 71

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

First electronic edition 2011

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2007943550

ISBN 978-0-7636-3251-9 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-7636-5186-2 (electronic)

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