With July 4th coming up, all I could think about was the multicolored Christmas tree lights strung throughout the fishing camp again, just like every year. The way they lit up the dark campgrounds at night was like magic, pure magic, and we got to stay up late, playing in the pitch dark while our parents laughed and told stories around the campfire outside the cottage.

But Alice might be there this year, the girl across the street who didn’t like me and made fun of me. Dad said maybe her family would be going. It would be ruined if Alice came. It would spoil everything. I just wished she wouldn’t be there.

Later that day, Dad told us that Mr. Palmer, Alice’s father, had been taken to the hospital; he was very sick and might not come back home. Mom said, "What a shame." I didn’t say anything. I just ran to my room and shut the door.

"It’s my fault," my brain said. Sadly, I knew the multicolored lights at camp and telling scary stories in the dark wouldn’t be the same, and it was my fault because my wish came true.