Read Online Whatever After #4: Dream On by Sarah Mlynowski - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Mlynowski
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to do other things. So far we’ve:
Made the king and queen a flyer telling them about an EVERYTHING MUST GO yard sale on the other end of the kingdom and then slipped it under their bedroom door.
Made thirteen birthday party invites for Jonah’s, ahem, tenth birthday.
Sent Tom to deliver the party invitations to all the fairies.
Decided to have the party on the ground floor of the west tower where we came through the mirror. This way all the royal servants won’t see what we’re up to.
Blown up fifty blue and green balloons.
Located another fifty balloons after Felix popped the first fifty.
Picked chairs, tables, tablecloths, napkins, plates, teacups, cutlery, and vases out of the piles around us.
Moved the extra tables, chairs, vases, pots, and other STUFF into the north tower.
Swept the floor.
Plucked different colored roses from the garden and arranged them in vases around the room.
Sneaked tea, milk, sugar, bread, tuna, mayo, cheese, cucumbers (we’re making tea sandwiches, of course), celery, carrots, dip, a chocolate cake, and some of those yummy raspberry pastries out of the kitchen and into the tower without being detected.
While Bri and I prepare everything and Tom delivers the invites, Felix does somersaults, Robin continues to sleep upstairs, and Jonah sits on a stair and works on his wigistry .
He twirls a pencil between his fingers. “I can’t believe I get to ask for thirteen magical things! This is the best day ever!”
“Not so fast,” I say, tying the balloon I’ve just blown up. “We need some of those wifticals . You have to wish for the three things we need. You get only nine extras.”
“Still! Nine wifticals is more wifticals than I had this morning. Or ever.”
Hmm. Maybe letting him make his own wigistry is risky. Maybe I should write his list for him. Just to make sure he doesn’t wish for anything crazy. Like a crocodile that does karate. Maybe he should wish for a cell phone.
He scribbles away.
“What are you writing, exactly?” I peek over his shoulder.
Number 1: Wake up Robin.
Number 2: Put Bri to sleep for 100 years until she’s woken up by a prince.
Number 3: Make a magical portal so we can go back to Smithville.
Number 4: Make a crocodile that does karate.
I knew it! I try to grab the paper from him. “Jonah, you can’t have a crocodile that does karate. Where is it going to live?”
“With us!”
“You’re going to bring a crocodile back to our house in Smithville? Will it sleep in the bathtub?”
“It wouldn’t fit in the bathtub.” He scratches his head with the pencil. “Maybe I’ll also wish for a swimming pool.”
“Jonah, please be realistic. Write down things that won’t eat us.”
“Like a marker that squirts ketchup?”
“Um … okay. That could work. I’m not sure why you would want that, though.”
“Who wouldn’t want that? Oh! What about a puppy?”
Oooooooh. I have always wanted a puppy. If I had a puppy I’d let him — or her — snuggle on my pillow every night. But my parents have always said no whenever I’ve asked for a pet. Too much work involved, they claim.
“Mom and Dad would never let us keep a puppy,” I argue.
“They would if the puppy was adorable,” Jonah says. “And magical. What should he be able to do?”
“Go grocery shopping?” I suggest. That might win over my parents.
“Babysit younger brothers?” offers Bri, while tying a balloon.
“Fly!” says Felix. He’s hopping from chair to chair around the room.
“Yes!” Jonah exclaims. “Fly!”
“It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Superpuppy,” I say.
Jonah squeals with laughter. “Superpuppy! That’s awesome! I could get him a little doggy outfit with an S on it.” His jaw drops, and then he scribbles on his paper. “I’m going to wish that I can fly, too!”
“SuperJonah?” I ask.
“Exactly! SuperJonah.” He steps upon his chair, throws his arms out, and jumps. He lands with a thud.
Could this actually happen? What am I
Made the king and queen a flyer telling them about an EVERYTHING MUST GO yard sale on the other end of the kingdom and then slipped it under their bedroom door.
Made thirteen birthday party invites for Jonah’s, ahem, tenth birthday.
Sent Tom to deliver the party invitations to all the fairies.
Decided to have the party on the ground floor of the west tower where we came through the mirror. This way all the royal servants won’t see what we’re up to.
Blown up fifty blue and green balloons.
Located another fifty balloons after Felix popped the first fifty.
Picked chairs, tables, tablecloths, napkins, plates, teacups, cutlery, and vases out of the piles around us.
Moved the extra tables, chairs, vases, pots, and other STUFF into the north tower.
Swept the floor.
Plucked different colored roses from the garden and arranged them in vases around the room.
Sneaked tea, milk, sugar, bread, tuna, mayo, cheese, cucumbers (we’re making tea sandwiches, of course), celery, carrots, dip, a chocolate cake, and some of those yummy raspberry pastries out of the kitchen and into the tower without being detected.
While Bri and I prepare everything and Tom delivers the invites, Felix does somersaults, Robin continues to sleep upstairs, and Jonah sits on a stair and works on his wigistry .
He twirls a pencil between his fingers. “I can’t believe I get to ask for thirteen magical things! This is the best day ever!”
“Not so fast,” I say, tying the balloon I’ve just blown up. “We need some of those wifticals . You have to wish for the three things we need. You get only nine extras.”
“Still! Nine wifticals is more wifticals than I had this morning. Or ever.”
Hmm. Maybe letting him make his own wigistry is risky. Maybe I should write his list for him. Just to make sure he doesn’t wish for anything crazy. Like a crocodile that does karate. Maybe he should wish for a cell phone.
He scribbles away.
“What are you writing, exactly?” I peek over his shoulder.
Number 1: Wake up Robin.
Number 2: Put Bri to sleep for 100 years until she’s woken up by a prince.
Number 3: Make a magical portal so we can go back to Smithville.
Number 4: Make a crocodile that does karate.
I knew it! I try to grab the paper from him. “Jonah, you can’t have a crocodile that does karate. Where is it going to live?”
“With us!”
“You’re going to bring a crocodile back to our house in Smithville? Will it sleep in the bathtub?”
“It wouldn’t fit in the bathtub.” He scratches his head with the pencil. “Maybe I’ll also wish for a swimming pool.”
“Jonah, please be realistic. Write down things that won’t eat us.”
“Like a marker that squirts ketchup?”
“Um … okay. That could work. I’m not sure why you would want that, though.”
“Who wouldn’t want that? Oh! What about a puppy?”
Oooooooh. I have always wanted a puppy. If I had a puppy I’d let him — or her — snuggle on my pillow every night. But my parents have always said no whenever I’ve asked for a pet. Too much work involved, they claim.
“Mom and Dad would never let us keep a puppy,” I argue.
“They would if the puppy was adorable,” Jonah says. “And magical. What should he be able to do?”
“Go grocery shopping?” I suggest. That might win over my parents.
“Babysit younger brothers?” offers Bri, while tying a balloon.
“Fly!” says Felix. He’s hopping from chair to chair around the room.
“Yes!” Jonah exclaims. “Fly!”
“It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s Superpuppy,” I say.
Jonah squeals with laughter. “Superpuppy! That’s awesome! I could get him a little doggy outfit with an S on it.” His jaw drops, and then he scribbles on his paper. “I’m going to wish that I can fly, too!”
“SuperJonah?” I ask.
“Exactly! SuperJonah.” He steps upon his chair, throws his arms out, and jumps. He lands with a thud.
Could this actually happen? What am I
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