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to take a chance on that happening again. And I didn’t think I could cover both of us with one silver wish.
    I needed help with Bosanka, and Mom had to be protected. One out of two seemed reasonable to try for, so I concentrated on both.
    Watching the lights of the buildings on the Jersey side and the glowing night sky beyond, I tried to clear my mind completely. I clutched the silver pencil in my fist and shut my eyes. My wish came to me in rhyme, which had never happened before:
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“Sorcery Hall, Sorcery Hall,
Granny Gran, wizards, and Paavo and all,
Hear my petition of worry and need,
Come if you can and come at speed!
But if you can’t come at my beck,
At least keep my mother off my neck!”
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    Not exactly the tone I was after, but I think my sincerity came through. I repeated this three times, including Paavo’s name even though he was dead, and threw the pencil out over the water. I saw a little flick of white spume out there, and something that might have been a fish jumped and fell back in right where my pencil had landed.
    When I got home, it was nearly midnight. I took a deep breath and walked right in, not trying to be especially quiet. I really hate sneaking around.
    Mom came to the door of her bedroom and looked out at me with a puzzled expression. “Hey, sweetie, you look a little funny,” she said in a concerned voice. “Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”
    I knew which wish I’d gotten.

 
    6
Tears by Joel
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    I N THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT the phone rang. I was too tired to talk to anybody, but suppose it was Barb and all was forgiven? I grabbed the receiver on the first ring. The fact that there was not a peep out of Mom’s bedroom told me that my silver wish was operating nicely. She’d probably never even heard the phone ring at all.
    â€œVal?” said a familiar voice—not Barb’s, but Joel’s.
    I stuffed my pillows against the headboard behind me and settled back against them. “Joel? Where are you?”
    â€œBoston.”
    â€œWow,” I said. I don’t often get long-distance telephone calls.
    He said, “I’m sorry I was such a pain on New Year’s.”
    Good grief, an apology! Did they give courses in basic human courtesy at that music school? I was impressed.
    He went on, “I was kind of rocked back by the news about your grandmother. Is there any change, by the way? About her, I mean?”
    By the way, my foot. Joel wasn’t calling because he wanted to talk to me, he was calling to see if by any chance Gran was well enough to maybe help him with his hands.
    â€œNo,” I said.
    So, same old Joel, selfishly fixated on himself and his own concerns and probably secretly pining for his chamber-music partner, whatever her name was. Well, I had something to tell him, something that would knock his socks off.
    I began by saying that I had this extremely foreign student on my hands at school.
    â€œOh, boy,” he cut in, “have they roped you into ‘building international friendship’? Don’t waste your time.”
    â€œHey,” I said, provoked, “what’s wrong with international friendship?”
    â€œWhat could be wrong?” he said ironically. “There’s nothing to it, right? For God’s sake, Val, don’t you ever watch the news?”
    Something sharp and biting in Joel’s tone told me I’d better find out what was going on with him before pushing on any further with the tale of Bosanka. Otherwise, I might just as well talk to myself. Besides, maybe he hadn’t just called to find out about Gran. Maybe something was up with him that I should know about.
    â€œDon’t tell me you watch the news,” I said. “You don’t have time, you have to practice.”
    Dead silence. Then he said, “I used to, yeah, that’s right. Thanks for reminding me. I’m feeling so terrific because I did