A Hundred Wishes

The day our family went on vacation to an island resort, my younger sister, Alana Fisher, climbed over a safety railing to get the perfect photo. She lost her footing and, in her panic, dragged me into the ocean with her. The rescue crew was about to pull me out first since I was closer when Mom suddenly took a yellowed paper coupon from her wallet and tossed it toward me. "Corinne, let Alana get on the rescue boat first! This is the last thing your father and I will ever ask you to grant!" When I was seven, I couldn't afford birthday presents for my parents, so I drew a hundred wish coupons by hand. Each one read: [Redeem this coupon for one wish. Corinne has to say yes, no matter what.] Years later, when Alana wanted my bedroom, they used one. When she decided she wanted to be an only child, they used another. From then on, I wasn't even allowed to call them Mom and Dad. I had to call them Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. Even the college tuition I'd spent three years working part-time to save was taken from me with the ninety-ninth coupon and used to pay for Alana's dance training. Now, only one coupon remained. I stared at it floating on the surface of the water and suddenly stopped struggling. Then I slipped the only rescue line around Alana and pushed her toward the boat myself. My parents were too busy wrapping her in a blanket and checking her for injuries to notice anything was wrong with me. As the rescue boat headed back to shore, not one of them realized my calf had already cramped so badly that I could barely hold on to my flotation board. Mom only turned back long enough to shout, "Corinne, hang on! We'll come back for you!" I watched them disappear into the distance, a bitter smile pulling at my lips. When I was seven, I believed that if I granted all one hundred wishes, Mom and Dad would finally love me the way they loved Alana. It wasn't until the freezing ocean water closed over me that I finally understood. A hundred wish coupons hadn't been enough to make them choose me even once. But they had been enough to cost me my life. Chapter 1 I had no idea how much time had passed when I finally heard the sound of an engine in the distance. The rescue boat was coming back. A lump formed in my throat. Somehow, my numb arms found their strength again. "Mom! I'm over here!" The figures at the front of the boat grew clearer as it approached. Mom was holding a clean blanket. The sight of it made me smile. They hadn't forgotten me after all. I'd already decided I wouldn't ask why they'd rescued my sister, Alana Fisher, first. As long as Mom wrapped that blanket around me and held me for a moment, I'd pretend none of it had ever happened. But halfway toward me, the rescue boat suddenly changed course. Not far away, Biscuit's faint whimpers carried from a section of a floating dock that had broken loose in the waves. His leash was tangled around a piece of broken railing, and the whole platform looked like it could flip at any moment. Alana immediately jumped to her feet and grabbed the rescuer's arm, sobbing, "Get my dog first! He can't swim! He's always been terrified of water. He'll die if he falls in!" The rescuer frowned and pointed toward me. "There's still someone in the water. Isn't that your sister? The girl who fell in with you?" Alana froze for a second. Then she shook her head. "She's not my sister. She's our housekeeper." Across the churning water, I stared at Mom and Dad, waiting for them to correct her. All I wanted was for one of them to say, "She's our daughter." But Mom looked away. Dad urged the rescuer on impatiently, "Corinne can swim, and she's got a flotation board. She'll be fine for now." The rescuer still hesitated. "She's really not your daughter?" This time, Mom answered, "No. She's been with our family for years. She helps out around the house. Just get the dog first. You can come back for her afterward." Her casual words carried across the waves. And suddenly, I remembered when Alana was twelve, she'd told our parents that all her classmates envied only children. She wanted to be Mom and Dad's only daughter, too. So my parents used one of their wish coupons. From that day on, I wasn't allowed to call them Mom and Dad anymore. The first time I slipped up, Mom's expression turned cold. "You promised we'd grant your sister's wish. Don't call me Mom." After that, I learned to call them Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. Even when I was sick and burning up with fever, too delirious to think straight, I never dared call her Mom again. That wish coupon was only supposed to last for a year, but when the year was over, no one ever told me I could call them Mom and Dad again. Little by little, Alana really did become their only daughter. And I became the person who did the laundry, cooked the meals, and cleaned the house without even being allowed to call my own parents Mom and Dad. I never imagined that years later, they would actually stand in front of a stranger and tell him I was their housekeeper. The rescue boat turned away from me and headed toward the floating platform where Biscuit was stranded. Instinct took over. I forced my arm into the air, desperately trying to make them see me. Then a wave crashed over me and shoved me beneath the surface again. By the time I fought my way back up, Dad had already lifted Biscuit onto the boat. Mom immediately unfolded the blanket in her arms and carefully wrapped it around his soaked body. The blanket I'd thought she had brought for me was for Alana's dog. Chapter 2 Alana clutched Biscuit in her arms, sobbing so hard that her whole body shook. Mom and Dad stood on either side of her, trying to calm her down. "Don't be scared. Biscuit's okay." "I got both of you back safely." At last, Alana smiled through her tears. No one looked in my direction again. The rescuer had intended to come back for me, but a high-wind and rough-seas warning suddenly came through. With the rescue boat at risk of capsizing, he had no choice but to take the passengers and the dog back to the dock first. The sound of the engine faded into the distance. My hands were covered in cuts, and I no longer had the strength to hold on to anything. When the water rose to my chin, I stopped calling out. They say that when you're dying, your life flashes before your eyes, showing you the happiest moments you've ever known. Sure enough, memories began flickering through my mind. Back then, Alana hadn't been born yet. No matter how busy Dad was at work, he always showed up at preschool on time so I'd be the first kid picked up. Mom always had a picture of me as her phone wallpaper, and every post she shared online was about how I was the best daughter in the world. At night, they'd each hold one of my hands as I fell asleep, always smiling as they told me, "Corinne, you're our most precious girl." When I was seven, I stayed up for several nights making a hundred wish coupons by hand. When Mom received them, she pulled me into her arms and covered me with kisses. Dad couldn't even bring himself to use them. He carefully tucked them into his wallet. "You're such a good girl. How could we possibly ask you for anything more?" Back then, I never could have imagined that one day, those same coupons would become the very thing they used to make me give in, over and over again. The night Alana was born, Dad stroked my hair and promised, "It doesn't mean you'll have two fewer people loving you. It means you'll have a little sister who loves you too." But every time Alana cried, Mom's arms loosened around me one more time. At first, all I had to give up was Mom's lap. Then it was birthdays, toys, and time with my parents. Eventually, even Mom and Dad became something I was expected to give up. The summer I turned eight, they took Alana to an island resort for the first time. I followed them to the door, fighting back tears. "I want to go too." Mom was putting a sun hat on Alana and didn't even look up. "Your sister isn't very strong. Taking care of two kids would be too much. You can stay with Grandma this time. We promise we'll take you next time." I stood on the balcony and watched their car disappear down the street. That was the first time they left me behind, but it wasn't the last. Every time it happened after that, Mom and Dad had another reason why they had no choice but to put Alana first. When I was fourteen, I had acute appendicitis. The pain was so bad that I curled up on the floor. When Mom got the call, she was at Alana's dance competition. "It's her first time performing onstage. She'll be scared if Dad and I aren't here. You're fourteen already. If your stomach hurts, go to the hospital yourself. Stop trying to get attention every time something important is happening for your sister." I eventually passed out outside our apartment building. A neighbor called 911 for me. Mom and Dad didn't arrive until after my surgery, with Alana and the award she'd won. Mom didn't ask if I was in pain. Instead, the first thing she did was explain to the nurse, "Corinne has always been dramatic. The smallest thing happens, and she expects the whole family to drop everything for her." Dad held Alana's medal out in front of me. "She spent six months preparing for this competition. As her older sister, you should be happy for her." I'd just had surgery and could barely sit up, but I forced myself through the pain and congratulated her anyway. Only then did they seem satisfied. After that, I stopped asking them for help. When I was sick, I went to the doctor by myself. When it rained, I found my own way home. On my birthday, I stopped waiting for a cake. And they said, "Corinne is tougher than Alana. We don't have to worry about her." Every time they abandoned me, they taught me how to survive without them. Then they turned that independence into one more reason never to choose me. So when Mom invited me on this trip two weeks ago, I was so excited I couldn't sleep all night. She had said over the phone, "This time, the whole family is going. No one gets left behind." I took time off work and spent my entire bonus booking our flights. It wasn't until we reached the hotel that I discovered our family suite had two bedrooms. One was for Mom and Dad. The other was for Alana. I was expected to sleep on a rollaway bed in the living room. I couldn't help asking why we hadn't booked another room. Dad's expression immediately darkened. "We bring you on vacation, and you still find something to complain about?" Mom tried to smooth things over. "The important thing is that we're all here together and having a good time. Do you really have to ruin everyone's vacation over a bedroom?" For the next few days, I got up early every morning to walk Biscuit. I carried their bags, waited in lines for them, and took their pictures. When we signed up for a water activity, a staff member asked if I was part of the family. Alana laughed. "No. She's our housekeeper. She takes care of the dog." Mom and Dad were standing right there, but neither of them corrected her. Later, Alana posted one of the pictures I'd taken. [Family vacation at last. Just the three of us and Biscuit.] In the photo, Dad had his arm around Mom while Alana stood between them holding Biscuit. I wasn't in it. But I quietly liked the post anyway. At least this time, I'd gotten to see the same view they had. Chapter 3 Before the accident, Alana had climbed past the safety barrier at the ocean overlook to take pictures. I went after her to pull her back, but when a huge wave crashed over the rocks, she grabbed me and held on tight, dragging me into the ocean with her. However, Mom and Dad rescued her first. Then they rescued Biscuit, her dog. So much for no one getting left behind. Apparently, that had never included me. When the last of my memories faded, my spirit drifted weightlessly after them. The marine rescue team asked one of my family members to stay behind and assist with the search. Dad responded impatiently, "Corinne can swim. There's no way anything happened to her." Mom was just as convinced that I'd gone into hiding because they'd rescued Alana first and I was throwing a tantrum. "Don't go looking for her. The more attention we give her, the more she'll think throwing a fit gets her what she wants." I pressed a hand to my hollow chest and opened my mouth, at a loss for words. So this was what death was like. At least I couldn't feel that crushing pain in my chest anymore. Maybe that was for the best. At one in the morning, an alert suddenly went off on Mom's phone. My smartwatch had detected that I'd gone into the water and automatically sent my emergency location. She glanced at it twice, then deleted the alert. "Her watch is still sending her location. Obviously, she's fine. Ignore it." What Mom and Dad didn't know was that I hadn't sent that distress signal. My watch had detected a violent impact followed by prolonged unresponsiveness. It had sent one final call for help on my behalf. Early the next morning, the rescue team came to the hotel and asked for a recent photo of me. Mom searched for a long time. Her phone held thousands of pictures of Alana, but she couldn't find a single recent photo that clearly showed my face. In the end, all she could give them was an ID photo from three years ago. One of the rescuers couldn't help asking, "You're her family. How do you not have a recent picture of her?" Mom's expression stiffened. "She's always been a loner. She doesn't like taking pictures with us." Alana quietly chimed in, "Corinne always thinks Mom and Dad favor me. She deliberately stays out of pictures so other people will think we exclude her." Floating beside them, I almost laughed. I was already dead, and somehow, they still got to decide why I wasn't in the pictures. The rescue team pulled up security footage from the ocean overlook, planning to take a still from shortly before I fell into the water and use it for the missing-person alert. But the footage clearly showed Alana ignoring the warning signs and climbing over the barrier. When the wave crashed over the rocks, it showed her grabbing me and dragging me into the ocean with her. Alana's face went white. "You can't post that! If people see it, they'll say I'm the reason Corinne fell in!" Mom immediately pulled her into her arms. "You already have her ID photo. Why do you have to ruin Alana's life over this?" Dad's expression darkened too. "Corinne is just missing. Alana still has to go to school, get a job, and get married someday. If you put that video out there, how is she supposed to live with that following her around?" Just then, Biscuit started coughing. Alana immediately screamed and clutched him tighter. "Did he get water in his lungs?" Mom and Dad instantly forgot about the missing-person alert and rushed to take Biscuit to the emergency vet. One of the rescuers stopped them. "We still haven't found the person who went into the water. At least one family member needs to stay and assist with the search." Dad impatiently brushed his hand aside. "Searching is your job. What difference does it make if we stay? Corinne can swim, and she has a smartwatch. If she were really in danger, she would've contacted us by now." At the animal hospital, they learned Biscuit had only inhaled a little water and was fine. While Alana waited for him to finish his examination, she came across a video posted by a small inn on the island. [We took in a young woman who washed ashore last night. Glad she's safe.] The video showed only the back of a woman wrapped in a blanket. Mom immediately remembered the location alert she'd received the night before. The last location had been on the coast near that very inn. Alana covered her mouth. "I knew it. Corinne made it to shore ages ago. She's been fine this whole time, and she deliberately didn't contact us." The concern on Dad's face instantly turned to anger. "Just because she wanted to make us regret not rescuing her first, she wasted all these people's time and resources searching for her!" Mom was trembling with anger too. "She's been playing the victim since she was a kid. Now she's even lying to the rescue team!" Alana leaned against Mom, thoughtfully coming to my defense. "Corinne probably just wanted your attention. When you find her, don't be too hard on her. Just have her apologize to the rescue crew." Mom and Dad immediately took Alana and headed for the inn. The whole way there, they discussed how they were going to punish me. Dad wanted me to pay the entire cost of the search operation. Mom wanted me to make a public statement saying I'd let go of the flotation board myself and that Alana had nothing to do with what happened. They were convinced I was hiding in a warm room right now, waiting for them to come crawling back and apologize. But when their car reached a rocky stretch of shoreline on the other side of the island, the road ahead was blocked by rescue vehicles. Several members of the marine rescue team were carrying a stretcher up from between the rocks. A white sheet covered the body on it. Captain Samuel Mercer, the rescue lead, looked down at the ID photo in his hand, then at Mom and Dad. "Are you Corinne Fisher's family? We just recovered the body of a young woman from the rocks on the other side of the island. We need you to come with us and make an identification."