Something To Wish For

SOMETHING TO WISH FOR SOMETHING TO WISH FOR SCOTT MERRY Copyright © 2023 Scott Merry All rights reserved. Cover designed by GetCovers Disclaimer The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously, unless clearly stated as an event in history. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This book is dedicated to: Dawn Handley. Without you this book would never have made it this far. Thank you for the chance to dream again. CONTENTS CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CHAPTER FIFTY CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE CHAPTER SIXTY AUTHOR’S POST-AMBLE FREE DOWNLOAD Grab a free copy of Smile when you sign up to the author’s VIP mailing list. Visit: scottmerry.com/signup What happens when you take five teenagers, a famous depression-busting author, a television talent show, and a coffee shop? Smile. That’s what happens. This contemporary fiction novel has everything you expect from a Scott Merry novel: mental health, music, and good coffee, tied together with laughter and friendship. Click the link above to grab an electronic version for free! CHAPTER ONE A snowy February, mid-2000s ‘Whatever you do, Matthew, never tread on the ice on the top of the pond. It looks like you can stand on it, granted, but underneath there’s a deep hole full of cold water.’ ‘But I want to try skating!’ ‘I’ll take you to the ice rink if you want to skate, young man. But you listen to your gran. That pond isn’t worth risking your life.’ ‘But, Gran! How cool would it be to stand on the pond? It would be like standing on water!’ ‘I won’t have it, Matthew. There’s no way to tell how thick that ice is from the top. One step and you could fall through. That’s the end of it.’ ‘But, Gran…’ ‘Enough! You can play in the garden. You can climb a tree. You can hide in the bushes. But you are not allowed to set foot on that pond. Do I make myself clear?’ I mutter something under my breath about grans being good-for-nothing, stuck up, and stinky. ‘Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear,’ Gran says, brandishing her walking stick under my nose, so close I can smell the rubber on the end of it. ‘Yes, Gran.’ ‘Good. Now go and get yourself some fresh air. Better than being stuck indoors all day. And don’t you dare take any of those layers off either – you’ll catch your death if you do!’ I force on my wellies by the back door before proceeding to scuff my feet down the gravel path towards the shed in protest. I hope the grooves in the path will teach Gran a lesson in issuing stupid rules about standing on the stupid pond. I open the latch on the shed door. This used to be Grandad’s shed – I can remember him cursing at the radio many a time in an afternoon while listening to football matches. The shed hasn’t changed much. Gran has kept it as it was. Even the radio is still there. I try switching it on in the hope Grandad might talk to me through it and tell me that Gran is wrong. Nothing happens. The radio probably isn’t plugged in. I huddle on a piece of carpet in the corner to sulk in the gloom, the familiar smell of lawn mower petrol and weed killer stinging my nostrils. Did Grandad ever hide out here because Gran told him that he couldn’t do something? He must have. How anyone could cope with Gran’s stupid rules is beyond me. I pull my knees into my chest, the burn still raging inside. How could Gran know how frozen the pond was? When was the last time she had been out to test it? As I begin to shiver with the cold taking its toll, I decide that I have to achieve my aim of standing in the middle of the pond. I will do everything in my power to prove I can do it. My dad is always telling me to believe in myself, that I can do anything I want as long as I believe I can do it. I will prove Gran wrong. I will stand in the middle of her stupid fancy pond with all the stupid fancy gnomes and ornaments surrounding it that Grandad left to her and wave at her in the kitchen. I will show her that there is nothing to worry about. Clambering to my feet, I open the shed door again with a renewed sense of vigour, my fists now balled in my pockets. There are no scuff marks in the gravel this time as I stride towards the pond, only the light compressions left by my feet in the frost. I pause when I reach the flagstones surrounding the pond, a seed of doubt beginning to sprout in my mind. Gran was quite clear about the dangers of the pond. Why would she be so adamant about it if it weren’t true? Is Gran a liar? I sidle up to the edge, the toes of my boots overlapping the edge by a couple of millimetres, to stare at the frozen water. It stares back. I take a deep breath, the water vapour clouding around me. I can’t see anything