The Wishing Well

Chapter 10

Olivia woke up early and gazed at the closed curtains, feeling weak and lifeless. She didn't want to leave her room today. She didn't even want to leave her bed because nothing ever went right. Couldn't she just sleep?

A depression had been steadily creeping over her in the days since they'd moved, something to do with the lack of sunlight or fresh air clean from magic. Also, her mother's total absence from her life; she was never, ever around when she needed her. She had no real friends here. She was being herded to make the bad wish and couldn't do anything about it. Her life was awful, and all she wanted was to stay in bed.

She shut her eyes again and didn't care if she slept the day away. Nobody would miss her, anyway. Hugging her pillow tightly, she exhaled and tried to doze off again. It was the safest thing to do.

Suddenly her phone rang, making her jump. Olivia glanced at it, sitting on her bedside table untouched. It had been days since anyone called her, so the phone had been all but forgotten. Frowning, she sat up and checked the Caller ID. It was Ian.

Puzzled, she answered. “Hello?”

“Good morning,” he said shortly, sounding like he was about to laugh.

“You didn't have to call, you know,” she said, frowning. I can hear pretty much everything, she added.

“Given your current state of mind I thought you might like a phone call better.”

Olivia smiled and sat up, pulling back the curtains. “Okay, so...maybe you're right. This is more fun than the weird psychic stuff.”

“But the weird psychic stuff is useful to figure out what would make you happy.”

Her smile widened. “What are you doing?” Ian was right—the phone call, perhaps the mere action of pressing the talk button and listening felt more meaningful than any exchange they could have by thought.

“Oh, uh—well, my family is gone for a while. They went shopping somewhere out of town. The piano is free so I thought I'd ask if you wanted to use it.”

It felt like someone hit her with a brick, waking her up in a second. “The what is free?”

“The piano. We have a music room. Only my mom really uses it anymore, but you might like it.”

“And you want me to play?” Olivia thought of arguing, since it was so short-notice. She had to prepare herself—right? Even if Ian was just one person, it was still a performance.

“You said you would,” he pointed out smilingly.

Olivia opened her mouth to argue some more, then decided it was pointless. If he took the time to call and made her morning better by doing so, it would ruin things to say no. “All right,” she agreed at last, getting out of bed—she still felt rather heavy. “Thanks.”

“Cool. I'll go get you in fifteen minutes.”

“I can walk,” she chided, but couldn't help laughing.

“No, no—I'm going to get you. Fifteen minutes.”

“All right.” Olivia hung up, then fought the urge to dance around the room like an idiot. A piano—he called her—it gave her life that nothing else could. How was it that one person knew how to do that?

Olivia searched for something more elegant to wear today. A performance was a performance. She found a fine dark blue sweater and jeans that didn't look so tattered. The musical note pendant she got for her birthday was perfect, so she put it on and gazed at her reflection in the mirror, feeling as if the girl staring back were an alien.