Read Online My Last Best Friend by Julie Bowe - Free Book Online

hours.
    Then I make three wishes.
    "I wish that I could be as smart as Tom
Sanders, as pretty as Brooke Morgan, and as good at sports as Randi Peterson."
    But they are just practice wishes, which is a good thing because the cup just sits there.
    It doesn't jiggle or glow.
    No magic sparks.
    No smoke.
    No nothing.
    Then I remember to pick up the cup and pour the wishes over my head. I feel kind of stupid doing it. But afterward, I feel better. Like maybe it's really working.

    Then I wish my real wish. That I weren't afraid to tell Stacey who I really am.
    But I don't pour that wish out. Not yet.

Chapter 14
    I keep my magic cup next to my bed. Even though it doesn't jiggle or glow or do any of the usual magical stuff, I like seeing it there. And I like remembering who gave it to me.
    I also like going to school because Stacey uses my purple gel pen to write me more notes. I write notes to her, too. Plus, I draw more pictures. By the time two weeks have gone by, I've drawn her three magical cows, two ballet dancers, and one smiling monkey. I don't know how she has time to keep checking the secret stone with Jenna always around, but I'm glad she does.
    Then, before school one Friday morning, I check the secret stone and find this note from her.
Dear Cordelia,
    I couldn't wait to tell you! My mom called last night and she's coming to see this weekend. We're going to a movie and out to eat and everything. I'm going to show her all the, pictures you gave me. I know she'll like them. I told her about the story we wrote together. She said it made her sad that the girls were lost in the forest. But she was glad they had each other.
    What are you doing this weekend?
    Anastasia
    I pull a piece of paper out of my backpack and write my reply.
Dear Anastasia,
    I'm glad you get to see your mom. Is your dad busy traveling? My dad will be traveling this weekend, too, so me and my mom will probably cook stuff he doesn't Like to eat and watch movies that make him yawn.
    I bet you miss your parents when they're away. I know I do. I miss Elizabeth, too, even though I'm starting to get used to her being gone.
    Cordelia
    Later that morning, during silent reading, I overhear Jenna whispering to Stacey.
    "But why can't you go to a movie this weekend?"
    Stacey fidgets behind her book. "Um ... because my aunt and I have something planned."
    "So?" Jenna says. "Skip it."
    Stacey turns a page in her book and whispers, "I can't."
    Jenna huffs and snaps her book shut.
    Later that afternoon, I find another note in the secret stone.
Dear Cordelia,
    Actually, my dad doesn't travel very much. Neither does my mom. I miss them a lot, even though I like living with my grandma. She tries to make me laugh every day.
    I miss my old friends, too. Especially Kate. She was funny, like you. One time, at lunch, she told a joke and I laughed so hard milk came out of my nose! I don't recommend trying this.
    Write to me next week!
    Anastasia
    I think about the note from Anastasia while I help my mom get supper ready that night. As I chop up a green pepper for tacos, I say, "Mom? I need a good joke. One that will make someone really laugh."
    My mom thinks for a minute while she drains a can of black olives. Then she says, "Why did the chicken cross the road?"
    "Why?" I ask.
    "To get to the other side," she replies.
    I roll my eyes. "That's the oldest joke in the world, Mom."
    My mom just shrugs. "Better ask your dad when he calls tonight. He's the joke expert."
    Later, when the phone rings, I answer it. It's my dad calling from his hotel.
    "So what have you and Mom been up to?" he asks.
    "We made tacos with green peppers and black olives," I say.
    "Sorry I asked," he says back. "What else?"
    "We watched a movie about this lady who goes to the grocery store to buy pork chops and ends up falling in love with her butcher."
    My dad yawns.
    When he's done yawning, I say, "Dad? I need a joke."
    "What kind of joke?" he asks.
    "Any kind," I say. "For someone who needs a laugh."
    My