Into the Wild(64)

In the dim green light, Julie skirted around them. As she passed Little Bear, he lifted his head. “Do you think it is that easy?” he said.

She froze. That tone of voice . . . she knew that flat, mechanical voice. Oh, no. “Little Bear?” She knew it wasn’t.

“This one’s too hot, this one’s too cold, and now you will find the one that’s just right?” the Wild said. “You won’t find your happily ever after. Not this way.”

It couldn’t stop her now, could it? “I beat your games,” Julie said. “I made it here. You have to let me go—your rules.”

“You will make a foolish wish,” the Wild said. “You will destroy your happiness and the happiness of your family and friends. No one has ever made the wish that was truly their heart’s desire.”

It was trying to talk her out of it. She had survived the stories. All the Wild had left was talk. Right? As if on cue, the other two bears raised their heads. “Someone has been eating my porridge. Someone has been sleeping in my bed.”

Julie ran out the lobby door.

She skidded to a stop. Hip-high bushes and thick trees clogged the backyard. She shot a look over her shoulder. The bears weren’t following her.

Maybe they couldn’t—the bears never caught their Goldilocks.

Putting her hands on her knees, she caught her breath. It was just talk. Just talk. And it couldn’t talk her out of this. She’d find the well, and she’d do what she had to do.

Julie peered into the vegetation. The well should be right in front of her. Just because she couldn’t see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. She climbed over vines and roots. She waded through bushes.

And she found the well. All of a sudden, it was there. There weren’t any fanfares or lightning bolts or anything like that. She almost stumbled over it, in fact—the base of the well jutted out into her path and was hidden by bushes. Julie cleared aside the brambles and stepped onto the base. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. The well certainly didn’t look like much.

Under a layer of moss, the wishing well looked as it always had: cracked mortar, dilapidated shingles, chipped stones. The rope that had once held a bucket was frayed. The bucket itself was centuries gone. Julie put both hands on the mossy wall and looked down. She couldn’t see the bottom.

All right, then. Now what?

It was time to make a wish. Okay. She was ready. Julie rolled up her sleeves, spread her feet wide, braced herself on the wall, and leaned directly over the middle of the well.

What wish should she make?

She hadn’t thought about it. Not specifically. She’d been so caught up in the race to get here that she hadn’t thought about what she’d do when she got here.

She could wish it all had never happened. No, she couldn’t wish that. She thought of tricking the ogre into using the wand, dancing at the ball, meeting her father. She didn’t want it to have never happened.

She could wish the Wild was gone. That idea was appealing. Not only could she stop the Wild here, but she could ensure that it never came back. She liked that. It would serve the Wild right for playing puppet master with who knew how many people.

But what would happen to all those people—not to mention herself—if the Wild disappeared while they were inside it? What if it took everyone with it? Julie shuddered. The Wild was right: she could make things worse if she wasn’t careful. Far, far worse.

What had her mother wished for? Too bad Mom hadn’t given her a hint. It has to be the wish dearest to your heart, her mother had said. But what was that wish? What did she want? She used to want so many things. Now she just wanted her life back.

That’s my wish, she thought. I want my life back. But how should she say it so it didn’t come out wrong? How could she guarantee that the wish she made was what she really wanted? It has to be the wish that’s dearest to your heart.

Julie smiled. She knew what to say. Leaning over the mossy rocks, she whispered into the well, “I wish the wish that is dearest to my heart.”

Her words fell like pennies into the water.

For an instant, there was silence. She looked around, peering at the still, dark forest that surrounded the motel like a waiting animal. It didn’t work, she thought. After everything, it didn’t work.

She turned in a slow circle, looking for some movement, for any movement. Should she make another wish? Was the well broken? Was it all a trick? What if she was trapped here forever? The trees were silent. Blinking, she wiped at her eyes. She was not going to cry. There had to be something else she could do. There had to be . . .