Page 39 of Three Little Wishes

“Told you this was fun.” Cami grinned. “Find one we can sing together.”

In the end, it was Cami who decided what they’d sing. They were old songs Riley hadn’t heard before, like “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay,” “Summer Breeze,” and “California Girls,” but by the second song, Riley was singing as loud and as proud as Cami.

She turned to smile at Cami as the last song ended, aboutto share that this was the most fun she’d had in more than a year, when she noticed where they were, and the words backed up in her throat.

“Look!” Cami cried, and slammed on the brakes, almost sending Riley face-forward into the dashboard.

Her seat belt snapped back, holding her in place. “I know!” Riley cried. “We’re on Main Street. We have to get out of here, Cami.”

“I know where we are,” Cami said, sticking her arm out the window and pointing at a bench on the sidewalk. “I wanted you to look atthat.”

“I don’t know what you want me to… Oh.” Megan’s face covered the back of the bench. It was an advertisement for the real estate business where she worked with the words “Top Seller!” above her head.

“Hand me Gail’s bag.” Cami motioned for her purse.

Riley unsnapped her seat belt and grabbed the bag, holding it to her chest. “Why do you want it?”

“Why do you think I want it?”

“I asked you first.”

Cami rolled her eyes, grabbing the bag from Riley’s hands. “I need a marker. Nail polish or lipstick would work too.”

Riley’s eyes went wide. “No. No way.” She shook her head. “You can’t deface her sign. Someone will see you.” And they would. The sidewalks on both sides of Main Street were crowded with people. Sunshine Bay might be a small beach town but it was popular with tourists.

“Got it!” Cami cried triumphantly, holding up a red marker. “Don’t worry. I’m good at this sort of thing. No one will know what I’m up to. Trust me,” she said, and opened her car door, stepping onto the sidewalk.

Riley’s stomach knotted with nerves as Cami got out of the car and strode toward the bench. Riley didn’t do this sort of thing. She was a rule follower. At least she had been. But this wasn’t the same as orchestrating her escape from LA. She’d been desperate then.

Sliding down in the seat, she peeked over the dashboard to see what Cami was up to. She was sitting on the bench, trying to get the cap off the marker with her teeth. A man was watching her with his head cocked. All Riley could think was,She’s going to get caught, and, looking both ways, she opened the car door.

Slamming it shut, she rounded the hood of the car and got between Cami and the guy checking her out. Riley turned her head and mimicked her brother’s raised-eyebrow look. It worked! The guy shrugged and walked away.

“Trade places,” Riley told Cami, nudging her off the bench. She held out her hand for the marker. “I’ve seen you try and write with your left hand. You take forever.”

“I’m not writing anything,” she said, but handed Riley the marker and got up from the bench.

“What are you… I mean, what am I doing, then?”

“Devil horns and a mustache. Add a goatee if you have time.”

“Seriously?”

“If you don’t want to do it, give me back my marker.”

“I’ll do it. Just keep your back to the crowd and keep an eye out for anyone you know. If you see someone, get back in the car and duck down.”

“You’re not the boss of me, you know?”

“What are you, six? Now don’t distract me. We gotta get out of here ASAP.” Riley glanced around and then gotto work on the devil horns. She leaned back to look at her handiwork. “I think they’d look better filled in, don’t you?” she asked Cami, but she was no longer standing there. Riley looked around and spotted her a few feet away, staring at a store’s window.

“Cami!” she whisper-shouted.

She walked back to Riley, looking freaked out. “There’s something wrong. I was just here the other day, and I bought a top at Surf to Shore. It’s a hardware store now.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger up and down the bridge of her nose.

A familiar voice called Riley’s name, and she and Cami looked across the road. Cars started beeping, and several drivers shouted out their open windows, shaking their fingers at Willow, who was weaving her way through traffic on a pink electric scooter. “Sorry! Sorry!” she yelled, waving an apologetic hand.

When Willow reached the sidewalk, she shut off the motor, stepped off the scooter, and parked it in front of the station wagon. “What are you two doing…?” She trailed off, and her eyes went wide. “Riley, what—”

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