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MARKED
BOYS OF BISHOP MOUNTAIN
CHAPTER1
JESS
Have you ever believed that if you wished for something hard enough, you could make it happen?
I did. It all started when my mom used to say, “Never underestimate the power of a wish.” Then she’d hold the fluffy-white dandelion in front of me as my cheeks puffed with air. “Blow, baby girl!”
And I would. Wasting a universe of wishes with reckless abandon on books, candy, and toys. It’s like slots for toddlers: The more you wish, the more chances you have of one of those wishes coming true.
It took a few years before I got serious. Doubled-down on just one wish. What was it Hannibal Lecter said? We covet what we see every day? Who knew the words of a fictional psychopath could ring so true?
And see Mark Donovan, I did.
My brother’s best friend. Yeah, try not seeing him. Dark, carefree waves that melted down to eyes that changed with his mood. Golden caramel at his happiest. Moody winter green when he was brooding.
He was it. My first big wish. My first epic fail.
Every night for a month, I wished I would grow up to marry him. And then I did the unthinkable. With my little-girl outside voice, I said it. “I am going to marry you.” Said it straight to his beautiful boy face.
Considering I was six and he was twelve, it went over like a loud fart in a packed church. What started with a wince morphed into uncontrollable laughter, culminating in Mark doubling over on the floor.
Oh, that last part wasn’t from laughter. It was from my angry little-girl fist jabbing a full-force punch square at his balls.
This cautionary tale taught me two things. First, boys apparently can’t breathe without their balls. And second, wishes aren’t meant to be trite or trivial. If only a few wishes are meant to come true, make each one precious. Make them count.
When my dear, sweet parents made their way to heaven—a pain so raw, it hurt just to breathe—I had faith. For every dandelion I plucked, I wished messages could make their way up through the clouds, delivered by the wind.
I wished Nana Winnie was as happy as a lark, cutting out crazy patterns for her latest quilt. I wished our old Labrador retriever, Saint, was with them, running fast and free to catch a Frisbee from my dad. I wished every time I sang to the clouds, my mom could feel the love I poured into every note. Knew how much I missed her. Missed them all.
When my brothers moved away, lured by the military, I wished them back. Brian showed up the next day, the Rock of Gibraltar by my side ever since.
