The Wishkeeper’s Apprentice

Description

Wishes do come true—with some help from Felix and his quirky mentor, Mr. Beewinkle—in this magical adventure brimming with the power of hope.

When ten-year-old Felix drops a penny in the wishing fountain at the center of town, he really doesn’t expect his sixteen-year-old sister to suddenly like him again, or to offer to share a cinnamon bun or watch cartoons like they used to. She hasn’t even remembered she was supposed to give him a ride home! But someone else is at the fountain too: a strange old man with a fishing pole who claims to be invisible. To Felix’s amazement, he learns that the old man is a Wishkeeper, and he needs an apprentice! But being a Wishkeeper’s apprentice isn’t just about organizing incoming wishes and untangling wish snags: a strange wolf-man who’s been haunting Felix’s dreams is real and a threat to every wish that has ever been granted in the town of Whittlestone, the town’s Wishkeeper, and Felix himself. With lively illustrations, this sweet adventure bubbles with charm and heart.Even the magical elements of Khoo’s first novel seem realistic within the context of its well-paced, third-person narrative. From the decorative elements surrounding page numbers to the occasional doublepage picture, the dynamic, grayscale illustrations enhance the pages while helping to define the characters and the action for young readers. A lively transitional chapter book with more than a touch of magic.
—BooklistRachel Chivers Khoo was born in Belfast. Growing up, her greatest wish was to become a published children’s author. Now that wish has come true, she’s planning on making more wishes . . . possibly involving a puppy or a lifetime’s supply of cinnamon buns. Rachel Chivers Khoo studied English literature at Trinity College, Oxford, and creative writing at Queen’s University, Belfast. She previously worked in book publishing and wrote her debut novel, The Wishkeeper’s Apprentice, at her kitchen table during maternity leave. She lives in London with her husband, two young sons, and far too many books.

Rachel Sanson is a children’s illustrator from the UK. Originally from a little town in the north of England, she studied illustration at the University of Lincoln. Growing up, she wished for superpowers. It hasn’t happened yet but hopefully someday soon. Rachel Sanson’s hobbies include being nocturnal, making friends with cats, and hiding under large piles of blankets. She lives in Bristol, UK.1
The Comeuppance of Rupus Beewinkle
  
Rupus Beewinkle’s years of exuberance were finally catching up with him. All the twinkle and fun had faded away from his gray-green eyes.
   The elderly wishkeeper had quite simply taken on too many wishes.
   Rupus was hunched over a desk in his front room, stroking his long white whiskers and gazing without enthusiasm at the heavy files before him. He knew that he ought to make a careful note of each new wish snag in his records. But there were hundreds of them, and more and more occurred every day.
   Each new wish snag felt like a brick tumbling down on top of him.
   His life’s work was crumbling into ruin. He had neither the time nor the energy to deal with the snags, let alone record them. Now more than ever, he needed assistance.
   As if on cue, a soft humming noise filled the room.
   Rupus raised his weary head to look at the dusty wishofax machine as it flashed amber and swallowed a scroll of paper. He got to his feet and crossed the room to hover hopefully over the paper as it reemerged, little by little.
   A message, written in wet black ink, came out of the wishofax. Rupus sighed as he read it and his mood sunk even lower.
 
Dear Rupus,
 
It is with regret that we cannot fulfill your request for an apprentice. The Council has not received wishkeeping files from you for over two decades. Nor have any updates been received in relation to wish snags or other wish maintenance carried out.

The Council urges you to bring your records up to date. Once that is done, the Council would be happy to reconsider your application for an apprentice.
 
Yours sincerely,
Benjamin Tumble
Communications Manager
The Council of the Wishkeepers
 
   Rupus began to speak aloud to himself (as wishkeepers often do). “Fiddlesticks! I should have known better. You can’t ignore the rules forever.” He raised a hand to his wrinkled forehead. “Ah, foolishness. Reckless youth. Look at me now.”
   Rupus cast a glance at the wishfulness gauge in the corner of the room. It was tall and wooden and resembled a grandfather clock, except that instead of a clock face, it held a single dial. Its golden arrow was pointing at a label titled Downcast & Disheartened.
   “Worse and worse and worse each day,” Rupus muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “These wishes are snagging faster than I can keep up with them. I’m an old man who has learned his lesson the hard way.”
   Rupus closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again at the sound of a quiet pop from the room next door.
   Another wish had arrived.
   Rupus sighed again. Then he made his way to the kitchen and saw that a small envelope was peeping out of his toaster. He carefully unfolded the wish card inside it.
   “My, my, is he ten years old already?” Rupus murmured as he read the wish card, before cutting himself a thick slice of bread. He drummed his fingertips on the countertop as he waited for his toast. “It’s no good,” he mused. “I can’t possibly take on any more wishes, especially not a Grade Four wish. It would be irresponsible. I already have more than three hundred and forty wish snags to deal with. Seventy-nine of those are urgent. Twenty-three are nearly beyond repair. And the whole reason I am in this mess is because I’ve granted too many wishes.”
   He slathered his toast with blackberry jam. Then he hid the wish card inside an empty cookie tin in the hope that he would forget all about it.
   Rupus made it only as far as the hallway. “But that poor boy . . . And I do have some responsibility. Oh, fiddlesticks!” Rupus stuffed the last morsel of toast into his mouth. “I suppose I’d better go and check that he’s all right.”

2
Felix Jones’s Wish
 
Felix Jones adjusted the hood on his raincoat as he trudged across the gloomy sports ground at Whittlestone Elementary. His worn-out soccer cleats squelched with every step. In the distance, he could hear the excited chatter of his teammates as they talked about the soccer game they’d just played. No one talked to him.
   Felix had joined the team last term with his best friend, Max. But now Max had moved out of town and Felix was pretty much on his own. He barely knew any of the other boys. Most of them were in the grade above him and all of them were taller than Felix.
   Worst of all, he hadn’t contributed a single goal all term. Apart from the own goal he’d scored this afternoon. Felix winced at the memory.
   A trickle of rain ran down his neck and seeped into his already damp shirt. There was no sign of his sister Rebecca’s yellow Volvo in the car park. He checked his watch: 5:37. Of course she was late to collect him. That was, if she’d even remembered to come in the first place.
   It would be getting dark soon. Felix shivered. He had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him and turned to check that nobody was behind him. The field was empty, but still he couldn’t shake off his growing sense of unease. It wasn’t just today. He’d had the feeling for weeks, even before Max had gone.
   Looking for a distraction, Felix headed to the car park’s rusty vending machine. He dug out a pound coin from the bottom of his sports bag and slotted it into the machine before punching in the code for a peanut-butter snack bar. The shiny package wound its way forward and stopped. His snack was stuck halfway down the machine, between the glass and a particularly plump bag of chips. Just his luck. And the machine had swallowed his pound coin. There was a clink as a penny landed in the change box.
   Things really weren’t going his way today.
   He retrieved the penny of change and stared at the empty car park again. There was still no sign of Rebecca’s car. She was probably out with her friends and had forgotten all about him. She wasn’t interested in spending time with him these days.
   With a resigned sigh, Felix swapped his soccer cleats for sneakers and began a steady trudge homeward. He kept his eyes glued to the sidewalk, counting puddles out of boredom, until he reached the center of town.
   In the market square, Felix finally lifted his gaze. Whittlestone’s penny fountain stood proudly in place, surrounded on four sides by merry shops and cafés. A host of copper pennies shone in the rippling water, twinkling under the warm light of the streetlamps. Felix’s sense of unease dissipated. It had finally stopped raining. He paused by the fountain and reached into his pocket, remembering his penny of change.
   Felix knew that magical things didn’t happen to people like him. He’d walked past this particular fountain thousands of times before without any thought of making a wish. But something about this evening felt different. Besides, a penny wasn’t worth much. Felix stared at the copper coin in his palm. In that moment, to his surprise, he knew exactly what to wish for.
 Why not? It had to be worth a shot. Felix held his breath as he dropped his penny into the water.US

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