The Secret Ingredient of Wishes by Susan Bishop Crispell

castle. Her fingers ached from pressing the plastic pieces onto one another. When her mom knocked on her door, she shook her hands back and forth, half-waving and half-trying to get the blood flowing again.
    â€œWhy are there cookies in the hallway?” her mom asked.
    â€œThey’re an apology. I think I hurt Michael’s feelings,” Rachel said.
    â€œWhat?”
    Rachel knew her mom would be mad about how she’d treated her brother, so she focused her eyes on the Lego princess as she placed her next to the prince so they could dance. “He ruined my castle,” she said, pouting. “I can’t help it if Michael’s a baby about getting in trouble.”
    Her mom’s eyebrows drew together so they looked like one furry caterpillar on her forehead. “Who is Michael and why would he ruin your castle?” Her mom gripped the door handle and eyed her carefully.
    Rachel’s hand hit the newly rebuilt chandelier, knocking it from the castle’s ballroom ceiling when she jerked around to roll her eyes at her mom. “My little brother Michael. I left the cookies in front of his room so he’d see them and know I was sorry for yelling at him, even if he did knock down my castle.”
    â€œRachel, I don’t think imaginary brothers need real cookies. Think you can go put them back in the kitchen before they get stepped on?”
    â€œMichael isn’t imaginary.” Rachel gaped at her mom, the chandelier gripped tightly in her hand. She felt funny, like she did when she had a high fever or went to bed too late.
    â€œOh, right. Of course he isn’t,” her mom said in that overly sweet voice she used when she and Rachel were playing pretend. “I’m serious about putting the cookies away, though. If they’re still there the next time I come upstairs, I’ll throw them out. Got it?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Rachel said, confused but happy that at least her mom didn’t seem mad.
    She waited until she heard her mom talking to her dad downstairs before moving the cookies. The plate was where she’d left it, but instead of her brother’s bedroom door, a painting of a Snow White–type cottage set in a thicket of woods hung on an otherwise blank wall. Where’s Michael’s room? She ground her knuckles into her eyes and counted to five before looking at the wall again. Moving closer, she stepped on the plate. It broke into three large, jagged pieces. A few of the cookies crumbled under her bare foot, and she jumped to the side so she didn’t get cut by the sharp edges of the plate. The wall was solid when she ran both hands along its smooth surface.
    The door was gone. Like it had never been there at all.
    *   *   *
    Standing on the unfamiliar street in Nowhere, Rachel could still see the blankness of that wall, still feel the numbness that filled her with dread at what her parents would do when they realized she’d made Michael disappear with her stupid wish.
    Back when she thought they might actually believe her.
    She reached a shaky hand to a parking meter to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she counted to five like she had back then, inhaling on the odd numbers and telling herself everything would be okay on the evens. But now she knew no amount of wishing could bring back someone who no longer existed. Just as she knew the person she’d been following through the streets was most definitely not Michael but just a familiar-looking stranger, no matter what her insides were telling her.
    Something about the air was suddenly fresh and earthy. It smelled like cucumbers and lilac and almond milk, soothing her like the deep breaths hadn’t. And the breeze blew a few degrees cooler, as if this stretch of street was encased in a bubble of calm. Eyes now open, Rachel looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the change in atmosphere, or if that was all in her head too.
    The park across the