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    The Wish Master
    The Wish Master
    The Wish Master
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    The Wish Master

    By Betty Ren Wright

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for . . . “An adventure story with a hint of the supernatural . . . full of action and suspense” (School Library Journal).

    Most years Corby likes summer vacation, but not now. He’s stuck at his grandparents’ house in Wisconsin, where his grandfather constantly reminds him how timid he is and how different his father was at his age. And his new friend Buck seems to think he’s chicken, too, just because he’d rather be sensible than risk getting hurt. To prove he’s tough, Corby joins Buck for a nighttime journey into the woods to find the Wish Master, a fierce, giant statue that is rumored to grant wishes.
     
    Soon it seems as if the Wish Master does have special powers—though it doesn’t always get things exactly right. When Corby wishes for a puppy, a mangy stray comes into his life. He soon grows attached to the loyal mutt. Then the dog gets Corby in big trouble, and Corby decides it’s time to wish for what he really wants: to go home. But will this wish bring more harm than good?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHoliday House
    Release dateJul 21, 2015
    ISBN9781504013307
    The Wish Master

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      Book preview

      The Wish Master - Betty Ren Wright

      CHAPTER ONE

      If You’re Not Too Chicken!

      That’s one broken-down old boat, Corby said. He hoped Buck Miller wasn’t going to want to go for a ride. Anybody can tell that boat would sink like a rock.

      It would not, Buck retorted. Where’d you learn so much about boats?

      Corby said, At camp, and then wished he hadn’t. He’d met Buck less than an hour ago, and already they were talking about things Corby didn’t want to talk about. Or even think about.

      My dad knows everything there is to know about boats, he added quickly. He goes sailing with his boss. On the ocean!

      Buck hopped off the little pier into the rowboat and stood with his feet wide apart, rocking from side to side, showing off. So where’s your dad now? he demanded.

      Home, Corby said. In Santa Barbara. He couldn’t come here with my mom and me because he has to work.

      Buck rocked the boat harder. Then he pointed across the river. See that farmhouse over there? That’s the Millikens’ place, and they’ve got five Lab puppies. We can row over there and see them if you’re not too chicken.

      I’m not! Corby snapped. Why had Buck said that? He wondered if being scared of stuff stuck out for everyone to see, like freckles or big ears.

      Well, I’m going, Buck said. And you’d better not tell anyone. Got that?

      Corby got it. He understood that Buck wasn’t supposed to row across the river. The boat was probably just as rickety as it looked.

      You can pick wildflowers for your mama, little boy, Buck added, waving an arm at the field behind them. Unless you’re afraid of bumblebees.

      Corby crouched at the edge of the pier, his heart thumping. He wanted to see the puppies, maybe even persuade his mom to buy him one. Mostly, though, he wanted to show Buck that he wasn’t afraid. If they were going to be friends while Corby was in Wisconsin, it had to start now. He stepped down into the boat.

      Buck loosened the rope that held them to the pier and dipped the oars into the water. They’re really neat puppies, he said, sounding more friendly. I know because we got one of our dogs from the last litter.

      The space between the boat and the pier began to grow. Corby was glad he knew how to swim. He wasn’t fast, but it had been one thing he’d done as well as most of the other boys at Camp Macaho.

      He wished he could forget he’d ever gone to camp. Until this summer it hadn’t mattered much that he was the smallest, skinniest kid in his class. He and his two best friends knew more about computers than anyone else—even more than their teachers. The three of them collected baseball cards and insects and miniature cars, and everything had been great until his mother heard about Camp Macaho at a PTA meeting.

      I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, she’d said. You have to try new things if you want to be well-rounded, Corby. Think about all the fun things your father did at camp when he was a boy in Wisconsin.

      Corby didn’t care a hoot about being well-rounded. But when his dad said, Camp is probably a good idea, and Just be a good sport, Corb, he knew he was on his way.

      Things had started going wrong the very first day at Macaho. There was that rocky cliff behind the mess hall, Corby remembered. His dad might have thought climbing the cliff would be fun, but Corby couldn’t make himself try it, even when the other kids scrambled over it like monkeys. Why take a chance? One slip and you could get yourself killed.

      He’d hated horseback riding, too. Any horse, even the oldest and laziest, felt as big as an elephant when you were on top of it. And he still had nightmares about that so-called bridge over Macaho Creek. It was nothing but a single plank that quivered and bucked when the boys ran across it. Corby had gotten halfway across just once, and then his legs wouldn’t take him any farther. He’d had to back up on his hands and knees till he reached the shore.

      Camp Macaho had been the worst thing—the only really bad thing—that had ever happened to him.

      I’m going to camp next summer, Buck said suddenly. Which one did you go to?

      It’s in California, Corby said. There’s lots of just as good ones here in Wisconsin. He didn’t want Buck to go where anyone would remember Corby Hill.

      The boat was in the middle of the river now, jerking from side to side because Buck wasn’t a good rower. Corby sat still, with his arms wrapped around his knees, and wondered if the last part of this summer was going to be any better than the first part. He’d hardly had time to unpack his suitcase and turn on his computer before Grandpa Hill had called from Berry Hill to say he needed help taking care of Grandma. She’d had a heart attack and needed lots of rest.

      His mom had started planning right away. Your father will feel better knowing we’re taking care of his folks, she said firmly, when Corby looked glum. By the time school starts, I’m sure Grandpa and Grandma will be able to manage on their own again.

      A harsh, grating noise interrupted Corby’s thoughts. Buck whooped and dug an oar so deeply into the water that the boat swung around.

      What’re you doing? Corby yelled. He saw water in the bottom of the boat.

      The grating sound

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