Wish

You can't judge people for the mistakes they make. You judge them for how they fix those mistakes.

On the line beside Describe your family, I wrote, "Bad." What is your favorite subject in school? "None." List three of your favorite activities. "Soccer, ballet, and fighting." Two of those favorite activities were lies but one of them was the truth. I am fond of fighting.

That night when I went to bed, I laid there in the dark and pictured a clothesline full of somebody's else's troubles. I knew for sure there were a lot of them I'd rather pluck off of that line than mine. I imagined what the other troubles might be. There would probably be toothaches and failed math tests. Lost cats and ugly hair. Cheating boyfriends and broken-down cars. But none of those could hold a candle to my troubles, weighing down that clothesline like a sack full of bricks.

If you cut off the pointed end of a slice of pie and save it for last, you can make a wish when you eat it.

Bertha knelt in front of me and took both my hands in hers and said, “Your mama loves you very much, Charlie. But sometimes, she just loses her way.” Loses her way? I’d be happy to draw her a map to show her the way back to being my mama again.

You'd think that a redheaded boy with glasses who was named Howard and had an up-down walk would have a lot more to wish for than being friends with me. But I admit I felt a smile on my face and hope in my heart, 'cause maybe wishes really do come true. Maybe some wishes just take longer than others.

You can’t judge people for the mistakes they make. You judge them for how they fix those mistakes.

When it was time for me to leave, I thanked Mrs. Odom, climbed on Lenny’s bike, and set off for home. As I pedaled up the road, I turned and glanced back at the Odoms’ house. I remembered that first day on the school bus when I had seen it and thought it was so sad-looking. Then I pictured all those boys in that little kitchen getting loved on by their mama and that house didn’t look one bit sad anymore.

Bertha’s cat named Lula Mae sauntered over and rubbed her head against Wishbone’s leg. He gave me a mournful look, but he let her do it.

I couldn’t even think about that clothesline of troubles. Shoot, I had so many troubles that line was liable to fall right over.

You’re not.” “How do you know?” “I just know.

When I was done, the silence settled over us, still and soft, like a veil.