Excerpt of Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins
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She wished something would happen.
She wished it while she was looking at a magazine.
The magazine was her sister Chrisanne's; so was the bed she was sitting
on and the sweater Debbie had decided to borrow after coming into
Chrisanne's room to use her lip gloss. Chrisanne wasn't there. She had gone
Thinking she should be more specific in case her wish came true, even
though it wasn't an official wish, it was just a thought, Debbie thought, I
wish something different would happen. Something good. To me.
As she thought it, she wound her finger in the necklace she was wearing,
which was her own, then unwound it again. It was a short necklace, and she
could only wrap her finger in it twice. At least while it was still around
The article she was looking at was about how the most important thing was
to be yourself. Although the pictures that went with it recommended being
someone else. Looking at them together made it seem like you could do both
at the same time.
Debbie checked her wish for loopholes, because of all those stories about
wishes that come true but cause disasters at the same time. Like King Midas
turning his daughter and all of his food into gold. Even in her own life,
Debbie remembered that once, when she was little, she had shouted that she
wished everyone would just leave her alone. And then everyone did.
The trouble with being too careful about your wishes, though, was that
you could end up with a wish so shapeless that it could come true and you
wouldn't even know it, or it wouldn't matter.
She wrapped the necklace around her finger again, and this time it popped
loose, flinging itself from her neck onto a bright, fuzzy photograph of a
boy and a girl, laughing, having fun against a backdrop of sparkling water.
Debbie picked up her necklace and jiggled the catch. It stuck sometimes
in a partly open position, and the connecting loop could slip out.
Something like that, she thought, looking at the photo. Wondering if it
would require being a different person.
In a way that doesn't hurt anyone or cause any natural disasters, she
added, out of habit.
Fastening the chain back around her neck, trying to tell by feel whether
the catch had closed, she thought of another loophole. Hoping it wasn't too
late to tack on one more condition, she thought the word soon.
The wish floated off, and she turned the page.
Meanwhile, in another part of town, Hector's sister, Rowanne, was
upstairs in her bedroom, changing her clothes or something. Hector could
hear her humming, and the sound of drawers opening and closing.
He was crossing the front hall on his way to the kitchen and, as he
passed the mirror, he glanced in and gave himself a little smile. It was
something he always did; he didn't know why. For encouragement, maybe.
This time he smiled hello at himself just as a slanted ray of sun shot
through one of the diamond-shaped windows in the front door at the side of
his face, producing a sort of side-lit, golden, disembodied-head effect in
the mirror. It struck him as an improvement on the usual averageness of his
face; it added some drama. Some intrigue. An aura of interestingness his
sister's face had all the time, but his did not, which mystified him because
when he compared their features one at a time, a lot of them seemed
identical. Or almost identical. There were some small differences. Like
their hair. Their hair was different.
Excerpted from Criss Cross by Lynne Rae Perkins. All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without
written permission from HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street, New
York, NY 10022