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Better Than Ruby Slippers



I've wished for lots of things in my fourteen years . . . a boyfriend, world peace, cleavage. But none of my wishes have come true.

Until now.

I'm standing by my locker, zipping up my black puffy coat, when I notice the sneakers.

They're the green suede designer ones I admired at Bloomie's last week. My mom said I couldn't have them because they cost more than our TV.

And they're on my feet.

"But how--" I mumble, blinking in confusion. Where are the beaten-up black boots I always have on? "I mean, when . . . ?"

Did I accidentally swap shoes with someone after gym? Am I a thief?

Impossible. The only time I ever took anything that wasn't mine was when I inadvertently wore Jewel's retainer. Gross, yes. But criminal? No.

My heart starts beating erratically. This is so weird. How did these shoes get on my feet?

Wait a millisecond. Maybe my mom bought them to surprise me? Not that she normally does stuff like that, but I have been on my best behavior lately (after being grounded for something completely ridiculous, don't even ask) and she's big on rewarding good deeds.

I guess I must have laced them up this morning without even noticing. Lame. But I went to bed really late last night, and I'm always zoned out when I'm tired.

That still doesn't explain why I didn't notice I was wearing them until now though. I glance back down. The shoes are a luminous green. Sparkling, even. They're practically screaming at me to notice them.

Whatever. New shoes! The ideal accessory for my awesome after-school plans. I smile like someone who just got her braces off.

"Can...