Piper's Perfect Dream by Ahmet Zappa Page A

play space was big and busy, and Piper soon blended in. She paused at the edge to get her bearings.
    On a long ramp-like structure, a small Wishling whooshed down. “Not headfirst!” shrieked a female Wishling—the mom, Piper guessed. Meanwhile, a girl rode past on a very small two-wheeled vehicle, pushing on pedals that moved in circles. “Chloe!” the dad called out. “Where is your helmet?”
    Wishlings are very focused on small Wishlings’ heads,
Piper noted.
    She retreated behind a tree and felt her spirits soar. What a great place to land! She’d learned about those areas. What had those Wishlings called it? A playground? She could have sworn Professor Illumia Wickes had called them play-arounds during one of her Star Darlings guest lectures. But really, what difference did it make? She was there, with lots of adorable Wishlings who came up to her waist. They were all too young to be her Wisher, though. Just to make sure, she glanced at her Wish Pendant. The bracelets were still dark. But maybe there’d be older Wishlings nearby, and she wouldn’t have far to go.
    Piper checked her Star-Zap for directions. It showed the exact route, and it seemed to lead quite far away. Piper sighed. She enjoyed exercise as much as the next Starling—as long as it involved stretching—but right then her Wishling sandal straps were digging into her feet. Made from Wishling material, the sandals didn’t mold to her feet like comfy Starling ones. Her long, swirly skirt was nice, though. And her cropped T-shirt, a vibrant emerald color with a rainbow by her heart, was cute and perfect.
    The sun was perfect, too, shining brightly with just the right degree of warmth. And Piper felt a tingle all around her, an air of expectancy.
    She heard one Wishling mom say to a dad, “I’m so happy spring is finally here!”
    The male nodded. “We’ll be spending a lot more time here now that the weather is nice.” He glanced at the Wishling equivalent of a Star-Zap.
A cell phone,
Piper thought. “Oops. Almost three o’clock. Time for pickup.”
    Piper watched as the play-around emptied out.
    It was the end of the school year, Piper realized, putting together the adults’ comments and her tingly feeling. That mix of sadness and excitement, with one staryear ending and a long, lazy vacation ahead. The feeling was the same no matter where someone lived.
    Piper moved on, following the coordinates of her Star-Zap. She edged toward the far corner of the play-around, where she saw a gate. She pushed against it. Nothing happened. The gate was locked in some way, and she couldn’t find a scanner, of course.
    â€œExcuse me,” said a little girl who couldn’t have been more than three Wishworld years old. She lifted a hook-like handle and the gate swung open easily.
    â€œWell!” said Piper. “Star sal—I mean, thank you!” She hoped she wouldn’t get locked in somewhere else. There might not be a little Wishling around to help.
    Piper continued down a treelined street with small cozy-looking houses. Each one had a wide porch that wrapped around to the back. In front of one, Piper stooped to pick up something from the sidewalk. It was shaped like a tube, about the length of her arm, and wrapped in a clear sleeve. She could read words through the wrapper, although it clearly wasn’t a book:
Greenfield Crier
. Greenfield was most likely the town’s name, Piper thought. And it was fitting. The town had wide yards and grassy plots along the walkways. But what did
Crier
mean?
    Piper pinched the tube to see if it would actually cry. It stayed silent. Then she noticed a man walking up to another house and picking up a tube.
    â€œLate delivery today,” he said to Piper, taking off the wrapper and unfurling the tube into flat paper. “I missed it before I left for work. Still, it’s nice to look over the newspaper in the