Having no idea where that "women can't say no" guy had taken Karyn, Jon's first thought was to make a wish on the well. He assumed there wasn't yet enough dirt in it yet to seal it off -- but that assumption was made moot when he realized he didn't have any coins on him. He could have sworn he'd had more than the one dime he'd used for the shovels, but he pulled his pockets out and found them empty. Why hadn't he brought the wishing rock? Heck, why hadn't he brought his cell phone?
Deciding it was more important at the moment to save Karyn than to fill in the well, he took off, running back home to get the rock. It was after 11:00, after all, and this was a sleepy suburban community; the well was off the beaten path as it was.
What Jon didn't count on was Andy Harris. Andy was, to put it mildly, happy with the results of his wish -- especially after he'd thought to crack open his copy of the school yearbook. It seemed to be true that all the girls had gotten a little something extra up top; even the most flat-chested freshman females had noticeably budding breasts in their photos. And since this was last year's yearbook, that meant those pictures were at least a year old -- his pulse quickened at the thought.
He'd vowed to go back to the well the next day, but he decided he just couldn't wait. He scrawled a couple of wish ideas on a piece of looseleaf paper, rummaged through a box in his closet for his Boy Scout flashlight -- still worked -- and tiptoed out of his room. Fortunately, knowing his family's routine helped: his parents were watching the 11:00 news in their bedroom -- he could hear the TV -- and his sister was in her bedroom, probably on the phone with a friend after what was supposed to be her lights-out time.
He crept down the stairs, avoiding the one creaky floorboard. The family change jar, a large glass container half-full of coins, sat on the kitchen counter. He briefly considered bringing the whole thing with him, but decided it would be too awkward and heavy; it didn't even have a lid. Besides, how many wishes would he really need, anyway? He reached in as quietly as he could and pulled out a handful of coins, dividing them into the front pockets of his jeans.
Worried about the noise of the heavy front door, he used the back door to make his escape. He briefly imagined himself a ninja as he snuck around to the side yard, then ducked behind his neighbor's bushes, walking hunched over until he was to the sidewalk.
He breathed a sigh of relief that no one was around as he walked through his neighborhood, as fast as he dared to go without looking suspicious. He made it to the park, at last, and turned on the flashlight to illuminate his path to the well.
Two shovels lay on the ground near the well. He whipped the flashlight around, looking for the owners, but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one.
He took a deep breath. His hand shook a bit as he reached into his right front pocket and pulled out a quarter. In the beam of his flashlight, he could see it was the Connecticut commemorative version, with a tree on the back. He realized then that he didn't need the flashlight anymore, so he flicked it off.
He tossed the quarter in, and heard a faint "plunk" a few seconds later.
"I wi--" he said in an excited squeak. He cleared his throat and took another deep breath. "I wish..."
