“I’ll be right back,” I say to Ann.

It hasn’t occurred to me until now, but maybe there will be an invoice or a business card or something from that bakery. If my mom’s not around to question, the least I can do is snoop for answers.

I still haven’t received a wish today. I’m afraid to know what it’s going to be. At any moment, Ben could show up trying to kiss me. Or maybe the president will call and ask me to become his military adviser.

It has to stop. Nicole doesn’t deserve betrayal, and no matter what I do, kissing Ben is going to be seen as just that. It won’t matter that I’ll do everything I can to stop it. It won’t matter that the only reason he’s doing it is because of some ridiculous wish.

I take the carpeted stairs two by two and go into her office. It’s pristine: white walls, beige carpet, big blond-maple desk. She has one of those hard plastic mats for her black-leather rolling chair, and little trays and organizers for all of her paperwork are lined up along the matching maple-wood hutch. The only thing next to her flat screen is a telephone and a cup of pencils, all perfectly sharpened to a point.

The bookshelf is filled with reference material and binders. The binders, I know, she uses for events. Each spine is carefully labeled: SMITH-GREENE WEDDING, HAPPY TIME PICNIC, RAINIER RETREAT. If I were to flip them open, I would see six dividers labeled with different elements: entertainment, catering, venue. . . . Back in the days when my mom was getting the company started, my brother and I would help her make a bunch of empty binders and think about what it would be like when she had so many events they were full of paperwork.

We would make sundaes with all kinds of candy mixed in and she’d tell us all about her plans while we organized the binders and stuffed brochures into envelopes. It was, quite possibly, the only happy family activity we’ve done since my dad left. If we helped her, she’d let us leave our messy rooms untouched. She’d relent on making the beds, on doing the dishes. She needed us to get things going.

I don’t help her anymore.

I sit down on her office chair and stay still for a moment, listening for the sound of her car in case she comes home uncharacteristically early. I haven’t been in this office in months, and I don’t want to have to explain what I’m doing in here.

I pull open the first drawer I see; it’s full of perfectly organized office supplies, each item with its own location. The next few drawers don’t yield anything better. Files, blank paper, notebooks, a Rolodex.

I’m still sitting in her chair, tapping my feet against the plastic mat, when the doorbell rings.

I spring out of the chair and leave the office as if I was caught red handed in the middle of a jewel heist and bound down the stairs.

Maybe it’s Hansen coming to serenade me or UPS with a special delivery of Everlasting Gobstoppers. This whole curse would be better if I had wished for cool things. A shiny new car, anybody?

Ann is grabbing the knob just as I arrive in the tiled foyer, and I shove her aside before she can answer it. The last thing I want to do is explain to someone why this virtual stranger is answering our door.

“Where’s my brother?” I ask Ann.

Ann points down the hall, to his room.

I turn to the door, straining to figure out who is on the other side of the stained glass oval.

I can’t tell who it is, so I just yank the door open. And that’s when I come face-to-pectorals with Ken. I had hoped he didn’t know where I lived. The fact that he does seems kind of creepy. Then again, there are no rules in this magic wishland. If gumballs can rain down and I can speak Italian, it seems nothing is out of the question.

He’s wearing his standard-issue black tank top, the one that barely contains his bulging arms or his rippling abs. He’s paired it with royal-blue basketball shorts, ones that have three stripes down the sides, and a pair of white sneakers. He basically looks like he just stepped off the NBA court, except he’s not sweaty.

The movement of air as the door slides open makes his scent waft toward me, and he smells good, a little like pine needles or leather, something natural, outdoorsy. Something decidedly untrendy but still masculine.

I expected him to smell like plastic.

I look up and see his blinding white teeth as his thick lips curl into a smile. “Hey, sweet stuff,” he says, leaning down to kiss me. I lean backward and he ends up sort of slathering my jawline with slobber.

Awesome.

“Uh, hi,” I say. My eyes dart to Ann. She’s positively beaming with glee, as if this new boyfriend of mine is the best news she’s had since the day she came alive. Actually, she looks the most alive she’s ever been. Her eyes are bright with excitement, and she’s practically quivering as she watches Ken’s arm slither around my waist.

I glance down the hallway. If my brother comes out and sees Ken, I’ll never hear the end of it.

I turn back to the dolls in front of me.

“Um, Ken, meet Ann. My . . . friend.”

Ann’s beam brightens to a thousand kilowatts when I call her a friend.

Something weird swirls inside me. Guilt? I push it down.

“So . . . what’s up?” I ask, unpeeling myself from Ken’s grasp. It’s a hard maneuver to manage while still acting casual because Ken is like a solid slab of muscle, and his arm doesn’t slide off as easily as I’d hoped. I end up kind of wrestling my way out and almost tripping on Ann’s feet.

Please let him be here for something quick.

“I’ve searched high and low, sweets, but I couldn’t find them.”

“And who is them?”

“The tiger, panda, and zebra.”

He gives me another well, duh look.

Oh, right. “That’s terrible.” I glance over at Ann and she bobs her head up and down eagerly, agreeing with me even though she has no idea what we’re talking about.

“I think it’s possible someone picked them up. Maybe took them in,” he says, giving me a sympathetic frown. “I’m sure they’re in good hands now.”

Right, because who do you know who isn’t in the market for a panda, zebra, and lion cub?

“Well, that is just darn disappointing, don’t you think?” Hmm. I wonder if that’s how Barbie really talks. I feel like I should speak all formal and serious-like when I’m pretending to be her. Because, you know, she’s been president and a pediatrician and probably homecoming queen. Jack-of-all-trades, that girl.

Ken nods. I walk to the door. “Well, thanks for letting me know!” I say, yanking the door open.

Ken doesn’t move, just stands there like a perfect man sculpture, staring at me. His back is to Ann, and I catch her looking down, studying his back and then his butt.

“Ann!” I whisper, and her eyes pop up and widen, then her cheeks turn red.

OMG, she is totally crushing on Ken. If only there was a way to get them together and send them riding off into the sunset on their trusty My Little Pony, I’d have it made.

“I thought we could go out tonight,” he says, his eyes flicking over to the open door. He knows I’m giving him the brush-off.

“Oh, well, you know. . . . ” No, obviously he doesn’t know, because I don’t either. I scramble to come up with some kind of excuse. “I was hoping you’d . . . fix the roof on the beach house,” I say.

He raises a brow. “I was just there last weekend. The roof is fine.”

I swallow. Ken is more perceptive than Ann, more . . . human-like. Ann is one crayon short of a full box, but Ken is harder to trick.

“Oh, you know, I’m just really busy with those, um, nursing-degree finals.”

“I thought you had decided on being a veterinarian?”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s what I meant. You know, it’s hard to keep it straight sometimes. So many careers, so little time.” I wave my hand around and try to use my body language to get him to move toward the door.

“I’ll go!” Ann says, bounding forward. “I have to get out of this house!” She throws her arms wide with a flourish, and her knuckles smack into the door. “Ow!” She shakes her hand and kind of jumps up and down as she howls a little.

“But won’t you come too?” Ken asks. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. And I thought I could go pick up some new tank tops . . . ”

Ann gives me her puppy dog eyes. “Please? I want to go out.”

And I want to smack my forehead. Ken and Ann just keep looking at me, waiting for me to relent.

Just then I hear my brother opening his bedroom door. I straighten and shove the two through the front door in front of me. Ann sort of bounces off of Ken.

“Okay, fine! We can all go to the mall. One hour. But after that, Ann has to help me study.”

“Yay!” Ann says, jumping up and down.

Ken just gives me a gleaming smile and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Great!”

I can’t stop the sinking sense of dread.

“Going to the mall, be back later,” I shout at my brother, who by now is halfway down the hall, heading in my direction.

I slam the door shut and bound down the steps toward Ken and Ann.

This is going to be trouble. I just know it.