Wishful Thinking Read Online Free PDF Page B

rubber boots folded his newspaper in half and tossed it aside. The paper landed on a low table between one of the leather booths, the black and gray print poppingout against the glossy red Formica.
    Hazel picked up the paper to bring the small print closer. Her eyes blurred over the flowery script until suddenly, everything disappeared but the date:
    Monday, June 29th.
    And the year … not this year. …
    But eighteen years in the past.
    Hazel felt the paper slipping from her fingers as her knees buckled, folding her body in half over the unforgiving edges of the booth.
    Posey had said that she’d made a wish come true. But she hadn’t mentioned that Hazel would need to go back in time to do it.
    And not just back to any time …
    Back to the year she was born.

6
    H azel stood frozen at the end of the dock. She’d been swept along by the bustling crowd, as the line of passengers shuffled off of the boat and down a metal ramp. A covered wooden dock fed them out to the road, where an impatient traffic cop was furiously waving one arm, ushering them across the newly painted crosswalk.
    “Any day now, Princess.”
    Hazel snapped out of her trance to see that she was the only person left on the curb. She wanted to move, but she couldn’t. Posey’s note was crumpled in her hand and she gripped it with all of her strength, as if it were the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.
    Breathe , Hazel commanded herself. Just keep breathing.
    She turned to look behind her at the boat, the wide doors open like a giant mouth, gobbling up the rows of cars and passengers waiting to make the return trip. She knew it wouldn’t take her back to California, but still, part of her wanted to climb back on board.
    Breathe,
she reminded herself again. She locked eyes with the traffic cop, who was shooting her an exhausted stare and tapping one foot against the pavement. She had no idea where she was supposed to go, but she couldn’t stand on the curb forever.
    As Hazel followed the paved sidewalk into town, she allowed herself a few sideways glances. To her left was a sprawling lawn, surrounded by colorful Victorian houses. To her right, a row of boardinghouses stretched out along the water, their painted NO VACANCY signs swinging in the lazy breeze.
    She made her way past racks of postcards and personalized key chains, boarded-up clam shacks, and pizza joints filling the air with the heavy aroma of hot grease. Ahead, a neon sign blinked GAME ROOM, and the clang and clatter of a pinball machine escaped through the second-story windows.
    Hazel walked until the sidewalk ended abruptly in front of a shingled building shaped like an old-time circus tent. Tinny music spilled out onto the street, and through slanted windows Hazel could see the blur of a merry-go-round. The circus music seemed suddenly ominous and Hazel realized that she was afraid. What was this place? How did she get here? And what was she supposed to do now?
    She didn’t even know what time it was. Her watch had been blinking horizontal lines since she’d woken up on the boat. It felt like late morning, but who knew what late morning felt like on Martha’s Vineyard?
    Eighteen years in the past.
    Dull hunger pains tugged at Hazel’s stomach and the familiar sensation was almost a comfort. She hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before. Relieved to have some kind of a plan, Hazel turned away from the docks and glanced towardone of the bustling side streets. Her eyes landed on a block-lettered sign: martha’s cups ‘n’ cones.
    It was early for ice cream, but it looked to be her only option. And after all she’d been through so far, ice cream for breakfast would hardly be the strangest part of her day.
    Hazel took a deep breath, entering the crowded shop. A glass cooler of every flavor of ice cream imaginable ran along one side of the room, covered with tubs of colorful toppings. On the walls, cartoon drawings advertised sizes and prices, and special sundaes