one day when I found out about these bracelets that they used to make, like, centuries ago. People would weave them for their friends — like old-fashioned friendship bracelets.”
Maria smiles. “Neat!”
“Yeah, but they weren’t just plain old bracelets; they were special.”
“How so?” Maria asks
“If someone made you one, and you accepted it, in exchange you would have to make a solemn promise.”
“Really? What promise?” Maria turns to Rachel, giving her another chance to join the conversation.
Rachel stares ahead blankly and hunches her shoulders. The camera pans back to me.
“Well,” I say, widening my eyes for effect, “you had to promise to keep it on forever … you know, as a sign of total loyalty to your friend.”
“Forever?” Maria’s eyes go wide as well.
“Well, eventually they’d get worn out and just fall off on their own.”
“So why do you call them Wishbandz?” Maria asks.
“Well that’s the most exciting part! When you get your bracelet, you make a wish, and just like back in the olden days, when it falls off, your wish will come true.” I hold up my arm, showing Maria my bracelet. “Rachel made this for me. If I keep it on until it falls off, I’ll get my wish!” I smile. “It’s a powerful spell that’s woven into each and every bracelet.”
“Wow, that’s really neat,” Maria says, smiling. “So Hannah, you’re quite the clever entrepreneur. It seems to me that a lot of this was your idea, right?”
I shake my head. “No … like I said, it was fifty-fifty all the way!”
“And tell me more about the name; did you come up with it?”
“Yeah, but …”
“So, how did you come up with it?” she asks.
“I guess it just came to me when I was in the computer lab.”
“The computer lab where you came up with the idea in the first place, right?”
“Yeah, but …”
“I’m sure your partner, Rachel, did her fair share, but it seems like you’re the brains of this operation,” she remarks, tapping my head, “Miss Smart.”
“No, no …” I stammer.
“So, what made you girls start your business in the first place? Was there a special reason?”
Now here’s a question I like! I look over at Rachel to see if there’s any chance she’s ready to speak, but she’s still in a bug-eyed trance.
“Maria, I can answer that question in two words,” I say, beaming, “Josh … Taylor.”
Maria tilts her head. “Josh Taylor?”
“Well, you see, Maria, Rachel and I are Josh Taylor’s biggest fans, and when we found out that he’s coming to Glen Haven to do a concert, we of course told our parents right away. Well, Maria, I can tell you it was quite a shock when they said there was no way they would be paying for our tickets.”
“It must have been.” Maria nods supportively.
“It’s a responsibility thing.” I nod back.
“So you started the business to earn money for your tickets?”
“That’s exactly what we did!” I answer proudly. “We started our business to earn money for our …”
Suddenly, I notice Scarlett Hastings, her eyes like slits, standing directly behind the cameraman. My hand flies up to my mouth, clamping it shut as I realize what I’ve done. My head is spinning … Scarlett … Rachel’s lie … her aunt … the fake tickets …
Scarlett silently mouths to Rachel, “I-knew-you-were-lying.”
Rachel’s eyes are filling with tears. I can’t believe this is happening, that I made this happen; I took over the entire interview and even worse than that … I’ve ratted us out. I’ve ratted Rachel out.
“Well, thanks, girls. I think we have enough material to work with here,” Maria says.
“That’s a wrap!” the cameraman adds.
“Hannah, you did super! You’re not only a great little businesswoman, but you’re a natural on camera,” Maria exclaims, giving my shoulders a little squeeze.
Suddenly, a crowd of kids swarms around us, and before I can get free to talk to Rachel, she’s gone.
11
Attention-Grabbing, Backstabbing Jerk of a Friend
It’s official. I am the worst friend on the face of the earth. I’m so ashamed of what I’ve done, I couldn’t even bring myself to call Rachel last night, not that she would have talked to me. Who would, unless it was to say, Hi, Hannah, you attention-grabbing, backstabbing jerk of a friend.
I march into school, fully prepared for the attack. I’m hoping no one saw me on TV last night. It was horrible. They barely showed Rachel at all, and worse than that, they cut out so much stuff they made it look like I was totally taking credit for everything! I’ll be surprised if Rachel ever wants to speak to me again.
I rush through the lobby, trying to shield my face so that no one notices me. It’s no use though;
they were all waiting. Kids start storming at me from all angles, and in like three seconds I’m surrounded. I stop in my tracks, squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for what’s coming. Everyone is yelling at me. I just want the ground to open up and swallow me so I can get out of this place.
Wouldn’t it be great if that could actually happen, and a supernatural force could just suck you up and then magically drop you on some tropical island, where you’d be lying on a beautiful beach, and sipping a delicious, frozen strawberry smoothie? I don’t know what I would do without these little daydreams. I think they keep me from going crazy when everything around me is falling apart. But they’re only daydreams; they’re not real, and no magic vacuum is going to swallow me up and spit me out in Aruba.
I open my eyes, squinting from the light. As I try to focus on the swarm of kids around me, I suddenly realize something strange is happening. It’s almost like I really have been transported into an alternate universe, and that’s when it hits me: these kids aren’t angry, they’re excited. No one is blaming me for stealing Rachel’s spotlight. No one mentions the lie, either.
“How did you
