Chapter 1
the night before graduation.
“My baby girl is growing up,” said my mother, tears filling her dark eyes.
I smiled, and let out a sarcastic joke about clingy mothers but I think she could see it in my eyes. It was affecting me too. Not just in the way of “I’m-about-to-have-to-adult-omfg-I’m-not-programmed-to-do-this-help-pls,” but rather, in the way of losing a part of me that has been almost like a touchstone. Dad walked out on us years ago, but Mom has always been constant. Even when my world seemed rocky, she was always stable. I stood in front of her, wearing my cap and gown, nervously thinking about tomorrow. I knew there was a whole summer ahead of me, and that I wouldn’t actually be “adulting” until the fall, when school starts and I really do have to face up to it all. But it’s just blew my mind how fast the years went by after seventh grade...
That was the year Dad left. Before that, my house had been the coolest house to be at because Dad used to be in a rock band that was really popular in the 90′s, and he’d play for everyone all the time. We’ve lived in this house since I was born, and so, everyone knew us as the musical family. Dad played the guitar, Mom could play the cello and sing like nobody’s business, and I could play the piano and carry a tune pretty well. When I was really little, I thought they were a perfect match. But I guess everyone thinks that when they’re young because they really haven’t gotten a chance to see what’s “normal”.
But I think that Mom and Dad really did love each other for a while, because Mom knew Dad like the back of her hand, and Dad was the only one who could calm Mom down from her anxiety attacks. Sometimes, when Mom got really depressed, she’d stay in bed for days. My dad would tell her, “Alright, you get your strength up. Don’t worry about Gabrielle, I’ll look after her.” And he would. He’d pick me up and drop me off at school, he’d make dinner, and he’d be honest about how Mom was. He’d explain that depression was like the waves at the beach. Sometimes, the water could be still and you could sit in the sun for a while, enjoying it all. And other times, the waters could be rocky and unsafe, and the waves might come one after another. I only have good memories of Dad, because he was a good Dad. That’s why it came as such a surprise when he left us.
Later, as I sat up in my room, I looked at my wall. It was a wall I had started in the fifth grade, filled in rows with pictures from every year of me with my friends, or things I just liked to take pictures of. As I stare down the row of seventh grade pictures, I sigh. Black clothes, no friends, Smashing Pumpkins, and a whole lot of angst. I touched the first picture, it was the first day of seventh grade. I looked so happy, so hopeful for the new school year, wearing a new dress with my hair braided perfectly. I remember thinking, “Seventh grade. This will be my year.” That was the first and last year of my cheerleading career. That was my rise and fall in the world of middle school popularity. That was a year of cruel rumors and unrequited love. Seventh grade was complete shit. I never thought I’d get through it, or eighth grade. I never thought I’d make it through high school, but as I stare at my pictures, I smile knowing that I did. I made it through with a B- average, a load of teacher recommendations; more friends than I remember making, and an experience worth remembering.
I walked toward my window, holding a diary from middle school. In the pretty night sky, I could see a star shooting across the sky. Closing my eyes, I began to make a wish. Only to feel a sudden tapping upon my shoulder...
Turning around, I found myself face to face with the utmost peculiar looking person. He was dressed quite like the mad hatter from Alice in Wonderland and was checking his clock as I screamed. “WISHING STAR INC. AT YOUR SERVICE, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE?” He practically yelled. Blinking in bewilderment, I asked how he had gotten in. However, he ignored my question completely and clucked his tongue, “You have sixty seconds. Make your wish.” Looking outside at the sky and then back at him, I found myself rubbing my eyes and asking him who he was.
“MAKE A WISH!” He shouted so that I jumped five feet into the air.
“I wish that I could...” But before I could finish my sentence, the peculiar man was telling me that I had lost my wish because I had taken so long. Then, he snapped his fingers, transporting us to a whole new room. “GABRIELLE PRICE,” He yelled as he flipped through a manila folder with my picture pasted to the outside. “By law, I am required to make a wish for you. You may not like the wish I grant you, but in the end, it is what you want in your heart of hearts and therefore, I must give you what you most wish for in the back of your mind.” Nervously, I shifted my weight onto my other leg and said, “The Hemsworth brothers?”
Unamused the man continued, “You will not know what I will have given you until tomorrow morning.” Before I could ask a single question, the man bopped my nose and blew a powder I can only describe as flour into my face, and just like that, I lay in my bed, in my own room,
Asleep.
