Fortune Falls

by Jenny Goebel

  The black cat hissed a low sound that was both threatening and melancholy. I stumbled back from the fence and ran. It might’ve been that I was halfway home before I even realized I was running and found the courage to breathe again.

  Mom was sympathetic when I told her I’d lost Wink, but Petey refused to talk for the rest of the evening. He wouldn’t look at me as we ate dinner, and he didn’t even protest when Mom said it was time for his bath. I think he was hoping to find Wink waiting for him in the tub. Even though I’d retreated downstairs by then, I could hear his wails ringing through the house when he discovered that she wasn’t.

  I awoke the next morning to an unnervingly empty house, and it caused a powerful wave of grief and loneliness to course through me. On days like this, when Mom and Petey left before I even got up for school, Wink had always been there to lick my face if I was feeling sluggish. Even if she stayed upstairs while I got ready, I could hear her paws pounding on the kitchen floor above me. The silence made me feel more alone than I’d ever felt in my life.

  I wasn’t scared. I just felt dead. On the inside. I felt like never crawling out of bed again.

  Then I remembered Dad taking me on a trip downtown after my broken collarbone had healed, but my spirits hadn’t. “See these people,” he’d said. “These are the luckless that have given up.” We drove by windows that had been broken out with baseball bats, and sidewalks that were in some places shattered by sledgehammers and in other places overgrown with vines. On the streets were people with unkempt hair and beards and expressionless faces. The worst were those staring off into space as they sat immobile on curbs or behind blowing curtains.

  “I know broken bones hurt, Sadie girl. So does embarrassment,” Dad had said. “But I think what Fate really wants is to make you stop trying. That’s its biggest success. Not ending your life, but making you feel dead while you’re still alive.”

  So I got up.

  With a lot less gusto than the day before, I repeated to myself: Win spelling bee. Make birthday wish. Pass Luck Test. Then I slowly walked to school and found my way to the classroom for Undetermined students.

  Mrs. Swinton added a third horseshoe to the board—five more days before the Luck Test. Nathan was nervously gnawing on a pencil and appeared to have chewed halfway through it. Betsy’s face quirked into a bittersweet smile when our eyes met, and I thought about the double meaning of the word undetermined. Sure it meant unknown, unidentified—as in, we hadn’t yet been identified as Lucky or Unlucky. But it also meant hesitant, faltering, and unsure. Maybe the word actually did still fit a number of us.

  By the middle of the day, it was hard to remember why I had chosen to get out of bed. Nothing too terrible happened, but even common nuisances—like my pencil box spilling on the floor—felt like more than I could handle. At least Betsy rushed to my side to help me clean up the mess.

  At lunch, I didn’t attempt to sit by anyone in the cafeteria—just found a spot alone at the end of one of the long Formica tables. When I glanced up, Betsy offered me another weak smile from across the room but then went back to chatting with a quiet girl from our class. It was the first time I’d ever seen her not eat with Sabrina and Felicia.

  When the sixth-grade Luckies walked in, every eye turned to look. Never was there a more glossy-haired, gleaming-smile, pristinely dressed bunch. Laughing, giggling, and carrying on, the fortunate students found open tables and seats together at which to eat their fancy, well-packed lunches. One of the Luckies had won a drawing at the local pizzeria for a year’s supply of their deep-dish pies. She was handing out freshly delivered slices of pepperoni to everyone sitting at her table.

  Sabrina and Felicia hopped up from their seats and I assumed the girls were planning to join the Luckies eating pizza, so I was shocked when instead they sat down at the far end of my table. That was until I noticed how loudly they were talking. They obviously wanted me to hear their conversation.

  “Guess who I ran into when the teacher sent me to the office for paper clips?” I didn’t think Mrs. Swinton liked Felicia enough for her to be the teacher’s pet, but she could be trusted to travel the hallways without causing any disturbances. Mrs. Swinton never sent me on any errands.

  “Hmmm,” Sabrina jested. “It wasn’t a Lucky boy whose name begins with C and ends with R, was it?”

  “It was. And as Cooper walked by me, I accidentally on purpose spilled the entire box.” Felicia giggled. “Sadie’s clumsiness gave me the idea,” she said. “And when he stopped to help me pick up the paper clips, he totally brushed my hand. I know he meant to.”

  Felicia’s eyes flitted toward me. I dropped my gaze an instant too late, catching her crafty smile. Satisfied I was listening, she kept talking loudly to Sabrina: “I’m going shopping for a new black dress after school today. Do you want to come?”

  “What do you need a new dress for? Oh, I know …” Sabrina said, playing along.

  “The Friday the Thirteenth Dance!” the two friends squealed in unison.

  Just then a Lucky named Daniella was walking by. She leaned in and shouted, “Jinx!”

  Instantly both girls were struck mute.

  It was sort of hilarious watching them open their mouths and emulate speech without any noise coming out. I flashed Daniella a grateful smile. She smirked, found a place to sit with some other Luckies, and went about eating her lunch. I wondered how long she would let them go on like that before saying either of their names aloud.

  School might be terrible, I thought to myself as I went back to my soggy peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich, but at least now it’s quiet.

  Ten minutes into our lunchtime, Cooper plopped down in the empty seat across from me. I felt an instant boost. Even though I knew I should tell him to sit somewhere else (for his own good), I couldn’t bring myself to do so. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as though we had a standing lunch date. We didn’t. “I had to ask Mr. Barton something after class.” Mr. Barton was Cooper and the other Luckies’ teacher.

  As Cooper launched into an explanation, I peered out of the corner of my eye at Felicia. She was scowling at me and trading scornful looks with Sabrina. I wondered briefly if there was a way to jinx facial expressions. I would’ve given anything to put the two girls’ faces on mute, right along with their voices.

  “So do you want to give it a shot?” Cooper asked.

  “Huh?”

  “The wishbone. I know it’s from a chicken, not a turkey, but Mr. Barton seemed to think it should have the same effect.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Cooper was holding a wishbone—from where?—his lunch, I guessed—out between us. I took hold of one of the sides. We pulled at the exact same time, and of course, it snapped in his favor. I realized as I held the shorter end in my hand that I hadn’t even bothered making a wish as I pulled.

  Cooper frowned. “I was trying not to put much pressure on it. I thought that way you’d have a good chance of getting your wish.”

  I could hear him speaking, but my mind was a million miles away. The thin bone I held between my fingers reminded me of the hand at the cemetery, and then all I could think about was Wink. I must’ve looked pretty crushed, because Cooper was falling all over himself apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Sadie. It was a stupid idea.”

  I shook my head. “It was a nice idea. I’m just worried about Wink.”

  “Didn’t you catch her? When I circled back to the park, I ran into Felicia. I thought she might help us look for Wink, but when I asked, she said she’d just seen you walking home with her. I …” Cooper trailed off probably realizing that whatever Felicia had said had been a lie.

  I shook my head, but just thinking about the graveyard had made me suck in my breath. I let it out. “Wink chased the cat into the old Fortune Falls Cemetery.”

  “The cemetery?” Cooper stiffened. “Not good. Not good at all.” He eyed his longer end of the wishbone, and I knew what he was thinking. “If I would’ve known, I would’ve wished for her
to come back. I wished—”

  “Shh,” I said. “Don’t tell me or it won’t come true.”

  “Okay. But I’m going to help you get her back. I promise.” Cooper’s dark brown eyes shined with determination.

  I smiled. I had desperately needed a reminder of why it was important to keep fighting Fate, and here one was. Sitting right across from me.

  “We just need a plan,” Cooper said. “Say you’ll meet me after school? Please, Sadie.”

  “Um,” I stalled. “I don’t know.” I was anxious to get back to the cemetery to look for Wink again, but with my extra-horrendous luck, it was the last place I needed to drag Cooper.

  The bell rang signaling the end of lunch, and he stood up. “Please?” he pleaded a second time.

  Cooper always was better at formulating plans than I was. I usually talked myself out of things—just like I’d almost talked myself out of the spelling bee. I still hoped to use the bee to start a winning streak, but with Wink missing now, things were getting even more complicated. I knew I could use his help. Finally, I relented with a curt nod of my head. “But just to plan. We’ll meet at the park.”

  “Yes!” Cooper said. “You got it!” He started to walk away, headed for the line of Luckies gathering near the entrance to the cafeteria, but he stopped after just a few feet. Flashing me a crooked grin, he took a step back in my direction and whispered secretively, “It appears my wish is already coming true.”

  Mom was picking Petey up again, so I went straight to the park after school let out. I waited by the swings, whipping my head around every time I heard a woof or the soft tinkling of dog tags. Of course, the barks and jingles all belonged to other people’s dogs and not to Wink.

  Cooper arrived five minutes after me, which I found suspicious. For one thing, he was far more daring than me and would’ve traversed the sidewalk cracks with greater speed. For another, the release time for the Luckies was fifteen minutes earlier than it was for everyone else. That way they could clear the school grounds long before the calamity-causing Unluckies were unleashed. Felicia’s parents had secured special permission for her to leave school early each day, too.

  He was jogging and out of breath. So much so that he had to rest his elbows on his knees before explaining where he’d been. “Sorry,” he said.

  I wished he’d stop apologizing. It wasn’t his fault that my dog was missing, or that the wishbone snapped in his favor, or that I’d broken the gift he’d given me for my birthday. If anything I should be the one apologizing for always bringing him down.

  “Since I got out early, I ran by the cemetery. You know, just to check.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t find her.”

  I shot daggers at him with my eyes. “What were you thinking?” I asked angrily.

  Cooper rarely got mad, but in that moment, his temper flared as hot as I’d ever seen it. With a tight mouth and clenched jaw, he said, “I was thinking that you are my friend. And friends help friends. I was also thinking that you’re not the only one who cares about Wink. I want to find her as badly as you do.”

  “Oh,” I said, and then, trying to smooth things over, I added, “Thanks. So what’s the plan?”

  Cooper melted, his anger gone as quickly as it had arrived. “First stop, Lucky CharmZ.”

  I balked. “Are you serious?” Lucky CharmZ was basically a black-market shop for all things luck-related. Unlike the boutiques where the uber-Luckies all shopped, it carried more than just the lucky charms its name implied. Dangerously unlucky items were sold there as well.

  Cooper shrugged. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. We need to know what we’re up against here. If anyone knows how to best combat this unlucky streak, it’s Zeta.”

  Dad had brought me to Lucky CharmZ a few times. Zeta had seemed more like a butcher than a storekeeper, and had a history as shady as the cemetery.

  Cooper was probably right, though. Luck had so many nuances, so many rules to follow; it was difficult to keep them all straight. Talking to someone with real insight could only help.

  “Okay,” I said at last. “You’re right.”

  Cooper grinned. “I usually am.”

  * * *

  Lucky CharmZ was located in the same part of town my dad had driven me through years before. The area where the luckless who’d hit rock bottom lived. It was also where the graduates of Bane’s would most likely end up someday.

  Some of the windows were now boarded up with sheets of steel. Crows couldn’t tap at broken-out glass, but a bird flying inside your house was every bit as devastating of an omen. On a good day, some of Fortune Falls’s most destitute must’ve banded together to put up the barriers. Maybe Fate hadn’t quite won its war with them yet.

  “How was the rest of your day?” Cooper asked. He sensed I was nervous, and was trying to take my mind off our surroundings. Some of the windows may have been boarded up, but everything was still dilapidated—paint peeling, shutters falling down. Obviously, no one had dared pull out a ladder to fix anything in ages. But if Cooper was trying to distract me, this wasn’t the question to ask.

  I leveled him with a look. “Well, I’m still alive.”

  Cooper’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

  “Yours?” I asked. “How are things with the upper crust? What’s it like being a Lucky?” The word Lucky came out sounding as bitter as it tasted on my tongue.

  “They aren’t that bad,” he said quietly.

  I noticed that he’d used the word they instead of we, but I didn’t point it out.

  Cooper went on. “It’s just that when everything you’ve ever done turns out perfect and everything you’ve ever wished for came true, I think it changes you.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said, hoping he’d break into one of his impressions. Something like “No, Mommy, this pony is too tall. Let’s return it for a shorter one.”

  Instead he said, “I think they get bored. It makes them say and do things that seem ridiculous to us. Nothing’s a challenge, but it’s almost like they want one, you know, because things are too easy. If you or I had been born under a supremely lucky star, the way they were, we probably would’ve turned out just like them.”

  Again, I almost reminded him that he’d already passed the test. For all intents and purposes, he was a Lucky. But I didn’t want to. It felt good to have Cooper aligning himself with me rather than his classmates.

  I wondered if that was one of the reasons Felicia was so interested in Cooper. Maybe she saw him as a challenge. He wasn’t the most popular boy in school, and he was far from being the luckiest of the Luckies. But he was different. He couldn’t care less about one’s fortune (obviously, since he liked to hang out with me), and that made it harder for Felicia to use her charms on him. Yet, if Felicia got everything she ever wished for, then …

  “We’re here,” Cooper announced.

  I glanced up at the one freshly painted sign in this part of town. The U in Lucky was a horseshoe. It hung on the side of a giant warehouse made of sheet metal painted a bright blue color.

  The shop owner was standing behind the counter when we walked in. He was wearing a black muscle shirt. It was hard not to notice his big, burly arms tattooed with images of four-leaf clovers and dream catchers, and a giant letter Z with a squiggly line after it on his bulging right shoulder.

  Cooper whispered in my ear, “It’s the symbol for Zeta. I have no idea if it’s his real name or not, but Zeta has the value of seven in the system of Greek numerals—seven being a lucky number, of course.” I raised a brow. My friend wasn’t dumb, but he wasn’t a scholar, either. “I asked him once,” Cooper murmured in reply.

  Around Zeta’s beefy neck hung a necklace with an open palm and an eye in the center. I recognized it as a hamsa hand. The charm, if it was real, was supposed to be awesomely powerful for protection against evil. It was also insanely expensive and, without a doubt, incredibly difficult to get one’s hands on in Fortune Falls.

  Zeta saw me sta
ring. He had an untamed, distrustful look, like a caged wild animal. Something told me he hadn’t been born lucky. He’d taken his luck by force and wile. It probably caused him to sleep with one eye open at night, always expecting someone to sneak in and take back what he’d stolen. Or maybe mistrust and paranoia were just by-products of the trade.

  “What do you kids want?” he asked in a voice that matched his gruff appearance.

  “Hey, Zeta,” Cooper said coolly, obviously less rattled than I felt. “Remember me? I bought a telescope from you last week.”

  Before he could respond, a baby pig, pink and plump, ran across the room. Zeta swooped down to pick her up, his face beaming with delight. “There she is! There’s my girl.” He started snuggling the pig and making little snorting noises.

  He held the pig out for us to see. “Meet Chance,” he said. “Schwein haben. It means ‘to have a pig’ in German, which is a very lucky thing.” He kissed Chance directly on the snout and then set her down. She squealed appreciatively and scurried off behind the counter. Cooper and I shared a look.

  “Now about that telescope, did I tell you or what? Bet your girlfriend is racking up the wishes.”

  “We’re just friends,” I blurted out at the same time Cooper said, “It broke.”

  “Broke, huh?” Zeta said. Then he went right back to being gruff as he pointed to a sign that read No Handouts. No Refunds.

  Cooper ignored him. “We’re here about the mirror inside the telescope—that’s the broken part we’re concerned about.”

  Zeta let out a puff of air. “Shame. But, you know, you get what you pay for. What’d you do with the pieces?”

  “Buried them,” Cooper said, which came as a surprise to me. I’d been too distraught after it happened to even think about what to do with the broken shards.

  “Hmm. Okay, we’re-just-friends girl, what’s your constitution—providence-wise?” Zeta asked me.

  “Not the best. Pretty awful, honestly,” I answered.

  “Hmm,” Zeta said again. “Well, smart thinking, burying them.” I flashed Cooper a grateful smile but wasn’t able to say thank you since the store owner was still talking. “Not as good as rinsing them in a stream but, if you’re lucky, possibly enough to save your life.”