Wish

This was the first flash fiction I ever attempted (I think it's from 2009): 

“What are you doing?” Cassie barked through a mouthful of minty foam.

With my face still pressed against the bathroom window, I decided it was safe to leak my secret plan to my big sister.  I told her, “I’m gonna find the biggest, brightest star and wish Dad home to make pancakes for me tomorrow.”

I barely got the words out before Cassie began hissing with laughter and drooling toothpaste all over the sink.  My almost eight-year-old dreams shuddered at her reaction.  She came up behind me spewing foamy saliva against the back of my neck between giggles.  Despite my fear that I had just said something very silly, Cassie’s hysterical laughter was too much like the evil pack of hyenas on The Lion King for me not to suspect that she was just being a mean older sister.  I decided to stick by my plan. 

“Don’t laugh.  He’ll be here for my birthday if I wish for it.”  I pointed to a giant glowing light in the sky, and shouted, “Look! Look at that star! It’s the biggest and the brightest, and it’s gonna bring Dad home! You watch.”  I closed my eyes and began wishing to myself as my hyena sister erupted into another fit of cold-blooded giggles.

“That’s not even a star! That’s a satellite or a low-flying plane or something.  Look at it, Cody.  It’s flashing.  You’re so stupid.”  She laughed even harder.

“No, it’s a star, Cass.  You don’t know!” I cried.

“Wishes don’t come true, anyway, Cody.  You’re so stupid.”

***

I woke up the next morning to the unmistakable smell of pancakes cooking.  I ran up to the mass of dirty blonde bed-head resting on my sister’s pillow and yelled, “Ya smell that Cass?” before scampering into the kitchen to greet my father.  Only he wasn’t there.  It was just Mom in her yellow robe and slippers slathering butter onto the skillet. 

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“Happy birthday, Cody! I made you your favorite breakfast!” she said, placing a plate of pancakes on the table and ignoring my question.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked again. 

“Cody, you know your dad isn’t here.  Eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

I sat down and ate them quietly.  They tasted good, but I know that they would have tasted better if my dad had made them. When Cassie came into the kitchen, she gave me the cruelest I-told-you-so look that a sister could ever give a brother on his birthday.

***

Every time the doorbell rang that afternoon, I got a rush hoping that maybe it was my dad showing up late for my birthday wish.  But it never was.  It was Granny and Papa.  It was Aunt Karen and her boyfriend.  It was Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Ken, and all three of my cousins.  Everyone brought presents for me.  They told me, “Happy birthday!”  They asked, “How does it feel to be eight?”  Before I knew it, everyone was singing me “Happy Birthday.”  Mom brought out a cake with racecars on it.  When they finished singing she said, “Make a wish and blow out the candles, Cody.”  But I couldn’t.  All I could do was watch the candle wax dripping onto the white frosting until the cake was covered.