2 October 2026 WISH YOU WELL by Jamie Sumner, Simon & Schuster/Atheneum, September 2026, 288p., ISBN: 978-1-6659-0574-9

"’There’s a kid I know named Evelyn, one of my favorite friends

And they put her in the hospital, for testing once again

And the doctors and the grownups, well they were sad when they were through

They told her she was very sick, no one knew what to do

To make her feel better, so she could run and play

And Evelyn knew that she might die, but she’d look at me and say,

‘No one knows for sure, something might come along

That’ll save the day and help me out and fix whatever’s wrong

‘Cause no one knows for sure, we’ve still got time to hope

And maybe Dr. Seuss and me’ll invent a super-duper kind of soap

And I’ll wash behind my ears even

‘Cause no one knows for sure, no one knows for sure’”

– Peter Alsop (1983)

13-year-old Violet Marino, the narrator of WISH YOU WELL is well on the way to going blind. And she’s getting pretty antsy. She’s just made it clear to us and to her mom that she’s ready to leave the Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital’s annual picnic for sick kids, when she unexpectedly meets fellow thirteen-year-old sick kids Wyatt Cass and Noor Singh.

“I’m halfway across the lawn when I hear the shout. Several, actually.

‘Call 911!’ somebody yells, which is absurd, since we are at a picnic for the children’s hospital and there is no shortage of medical personnel. I veer toward the drama, hoping it’s the right level of interesting–bigger than a Band-Aid, smaller than the thing that shocks your heart. Slightly less than life-threatening would be optimal.

Under the pavilion, it’s a scene straight out of a horror movie. A boy lies on the ground clutching his throat. His face is purple. This is so much bigger than a Band-Aid. I stop breathing. It’s like my body and his are linked. He’s fighting for breath and I can’t find mine either. The scene has sucked it out of me.

For the longest three seconds in the world, nothing moves except his feet, which are twitching and kicking the table leg closest to him. Then a nurse dives onto her knees and heaves him up like he’s a load of laundry. I watch, a few feet back from the crowd, as the woman in bright yellow scrubs wraps him in a bear hug. She squeezes him hard–harder than a person should be squeezed if you expect them to reinflate. Time slows even more as the two of them pitch about in a weird slow-motion dance. I risk a step closer at the same time as the rest of the crowd steps back. It’s just them and me in the pavilion now.

Even though he’s obviously choking, our eyes lock for a second. It’s disconcerting, like catching someone mid-nose-pick. The nurse gives one more huge pump with her arms, his eyes bulge, and a wad of chewed-up something shoots out of his mouth. He coughs and keeps coughing while spit and tears run down his face. Cheers rise up behind us. He will live to be sick another day.”

That’s Wyatt, who was choking on a hotdog. He has a newly-transplanted heart (and, according to Violet, embarrassingly blue eyes). He’s going to spend the rest of his life on immunosuppressants to prevent his body from rejecting the donated organ keeping him alive. The nurse who just saved him is Noor’s mom. Noor has a cancerous tumor and is on chemotherapy. 

Thanks to Wyatt’s efforts, the trio will work to become friends and, again, thanks to Wyatt’s scheming, will attempt to pull off a scam involving one of those give-a-wish nonprofits which has sent repeated communications to each of the three sick, young characters. Wyatt’s plan is to work together and work the system, so each of them can be part of the others’ wish fulfillment adventures. Each getting three big deal experiences instead of one. 

The story can obviously feel intense, as we learn the details of Violet’s steadily-degenerating sight and how she somehow hopes to continue her soccer playing. Similarly, we know that either Wyatt and/or Noor could be gone-gone today, tomorrow, or the day after. But a pitch-perfect teen snarkiness—both amongst Violet’s own thoughts, and within the dialogue between the trio—transforms what could have been a downer of a book into a very cool and repeatedly laugh-out-loud gem-of-a-tale.

On top of her disappearing vision, Violet is dealing with the constant absences of her lawyer mother, who disappears into her work—a single mom struggling to pay Violet’s mounting medical bills.

“I can’t believe Coach pulled me out. It was that penalty kick. I should have nailed it. It was just me and the goalie and I missed. This time, none of my teammates complained when I was benched. Because this time, it wasn’t a bad call by the ref. It was a bad play by me. A year ago, before my left eye scrambled, it would have been nothing but net. I could have explained. But no one knows how bad my eyesight’s gotten, not even Mom”

“No one knows for sure

No one knows for sure”

Young readers will be enlightened by the humanity (and hijinx) of these three well-written characters. Hopefully, next time readers encounter a schoolmate or neighbor in a wheelchair or dealing with other significant health issues they’ll, at the least, smile and greet them, rather than turn and pretend they’re not there.”

Richie Partington, MLIS

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