by Jenny Goebel
The cat mewed approvingly, and something inside me softened. I nearly reached out to pet her, but then I remembered what she was and the peril she was capable of causing.
I drew my hand back just as Petey sat up. He yawned and opened his eyes halfway. When he was sleepy, he reminded me of our mom, and my heart throbbed with the relief of knowing he was safe.
“Why are you here?” he asked. If he was still upset with me, the drowsiness had stolen any evidence of it from his voice.
I charged him with a hug. When I pulled back, I placed my hand on his arm and gently asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I followed the boy.”
My insides turned to ice. Afraid I knew the answer before even asking, I asked anyway, “What boy, Petey?”
“I don’t know. I’d never seen him before. He was wearing a hat. A funny flat hat.” He couldn’t have heard the woeful story of Charlie Rispin, or else the sight of a boy in a herringbone cap would’ve sent him into a fit of terror. It would’ve made his heart race; the way mine did just hearing about his encounter.
“You said not to go into the cemetery, so I didn’t,” Petey continued, glancing up like this somehow made his disappearance all right.
“But your shirt—what happened to it?”
My brother stretched his shirt out to examine the shredded bottom seam. “I stayed outside the gate to call for Wink. But I wanted to look inside …”
“So you went up to the fence.”
“Uh-huh. I held my breath. But something grabbed me and I ran.” I pictured the thorny rosebush with shoots weaving through the iron posts. It must’ve snared his shirt as he peered inside. “Don’t be mad. Please, Sadie.”
I shook my head. “ ’Course I’m not.”
“I ran to the field. That’s when I saw the boy with the funny hat. He asked who Wink was, and I asked him if he’d been eating strawberries, ’cause his face looked red like when I eat strawberries.”
I could tell Petey’s sleepiness was wearing off. He’d let go of the tattered seam of his shirt and was looking up at me with eyes as round as pennies. “He said his parents were inside the cemetery, just like Wink, and we should go in to look for them. But I didn’t want to go in. I asked if his parents were dead, and I told him my dad was dead. Then he got a sad look on his face and ran off.”
I didn’t say anything more as I listened to Petey’s story, but I never loosened my grip on his arm, either.
“I wanted to say I was sorry for making him sad, but he wouldn’t stop running. I followed him here. But he wasn’t here. I don’t know where he went. Do you know, Sadie?”
I shook my head. I truthfully didn’t know. This night was turning out to be full of surprises.
Petey didn’t seem fazed by my lack of answers, nor by the fact that the little boy had disappeared down a dead end path. “Then the rain started again,” Petey said. “You know I don’t like rain. I was going to go straight home when it stopped. I promise.”
I wrapped Petey in another fierce hug. Water was no longer dripping over the edge of the alcove, and I couldn’t hear the patter of raindrops splashing down in Rispin Field, either. “It’s probably a good time to go,” I said, releasing Petey. He nodded in agreement.
We clambered to our feet, but when we stepped away from the boulder, the black cat hopped down after us. Noticing her for the first time, Petey’s mouth formed the shape of a little, worried O. “Sadie,” he said nervously.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I don’t think she means us any harm.”
Charlie Rispin didn’t materialize the way I thought he might as we plodded through the damp, muddy field. Maybe his ghost wasn’t as dangerous as I’d thought. I supposed it was possible that Charlie had led Petey to shelter, the way the cat had led me to Petey.
Maybe I’d misjudged them both.
The black cat trudged along behind us as we left Rispin Field and as we held our breath to pass the cemetery gate. Every time I glanced over my shoulder, she was lingering just a few feet back. I knew I’d probably regret not trapping her when I’d had the chance, but all I cared about in that moment was getting Petey home before the rain started up again.
The black cat slept in my window well. Just for a few hours, because that’s all we had before the sun woke us both. I thought about running outside and trapping her before she could escape, but then I noticed how boney her back was, how the outline of her ribs made her sides as rippled as the corrugated aluminum.
“You won’t do me any good dead,” I said. Then I darted upstairs, found a can of tuna in the cupboards, and darted back down.
As I peeled back the lid, I questioned whether the real reason I was feeding her was so she wouldn’t starve to death before I traded her to Zeta or if it was something else. She’d led me to Petey. I felt indebted to her. I shook my head. The thought was ridiculous. Even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t afford to feel sorry for the cat, to feel anything for her. She was just a means to an end—a way to erase what I’d started when I’d broken the mirror.
I opened my window and set the can inside the well. The cat purred and moved to rub against my hand. I jerked my arm back before she could and slammed the window shut. “Just—” Just what? I thought. Just stay there? Just don’t curse me? How about, just don’t be nice to me, because I’m only going to trade you in for something lucky.
Or was I? How could I possibly trade her in at Lucky CharmZ after she’d shown me such kindness the night before? Zeta would sell her to someone who’d use her for bad things. What kind of person would want to own a cat just to hex people? Someone who wouldn’t treat her very well, that’s who.
If I traded the cat in for something that broke the curse and then went on to Flourish Academy, I’d still have to live with myself. I wasn’t sure it was worth being a Lucky if it meant betraying who I was. I’d just about solidified my decision when I heard a knock upstairs.
“Happy birthday!” Cooper cheered when I swung open the front door. Unbelievably, with what little sleep I’d had, I’d almost forgotten that today was Friday the thirteenth and my birthday. When that much came back to me, it also came back that I was still angry with Cooper.
I glowered at him. “You’re a Lucky. Why aren’t you at school?”
Mom was allowing Petey and me to stay home, but any student who didn’t feel threatened by the ominous day typically wanted to be there. It was like the pre-party for the dance. The Luckies brought treats to school and basically just hung out with their friends. Some of the teachers showed movies. Mrs. Swinton would be adding a fifth horseshoe to the board.
Cooper faltered for a second but recovered quickly. “You didn’t show up at the park yesterday. I was worried. It’s your birthday … I thought I could be a little late to school. I wanted to check on you … Oh, and I have an idea!”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
Cooper grinned. “Yeah, so while I was waiting for you at the park I saw this flyer for a carnival that’s coming to Fortune Falls next month.”
“Okay,” I said again, thinking gypsies, fortune-tellers, maybe dancing ponies with lucky horseshoes on their feet …
“The games! You can choose a game you’ve never played before and use beginner’s luck to win!”
“Uh-huh,” I said, my scowl deepening. “And what exactly am I supposed to win? A giant stuffed panda bear?”
“Money!” Cooper said. “You can win money and use it to buy a rabbit’s foot or maybe just a horseshoe, but then you can—”
“You’re kidding, right?” I scoffed. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard. I’m never going to win that much money. And did it ever occur to you that next month is too late. The test is on Monday.”
Cooper’s face fell.
“You were serious,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Huh, apparently being Lucky doesn’t make you smart.” I could tell my words stung, but I couldn’t reel them back in. I couldn’t make myself be nice when Felicia’s words still felt like burning co
al inside my chest. Not to mention that I hadn’t fully recovered from the scare with Petey the night before. I felt raw.
“Wait. I’ve got a better idea,” I added, clipping my words into sharp little points. “Why don’t I come with you to the dance tonight? I’ll just pretend I’m a Lucky and play a game there. With beginner’s luck, surely I’ll be all right. What could possibly go wrong? Oh, wait. That’s right. You’re already going with Felicia.”
I knew I wasn’t being fair. He didn’t exactly deserve to be on the receiving end of all my troubled anger—there were plenty of things besides him fueling it. But I was tired. I was tired of trying to pretend that I could actually turn my train wreck of a life around.
Cooper stared back at me, evidently dumbfounded. “I’m … I’m really sorry, Sadie. I didn’t think you’d find out.”
“You didn’t think I’d find out? That’s your excuse?”
“Yes. No. I mean, it’s not my fault. Felicia’s parents called my parents and set the whole thing up. They said that with it being Friday the thirteenth, they were afraid for Felicia to go to the dance alone, because she might encounter someone, um, Unlucky along the way.”
“And you agreed.”
“No, of course not! I wanted to skip the dance altogether. I wanted to surprise you and show up here to celebrate your birthday. But my parents wouldn’t let me.” Cooper paused. He seemed to be searching my face for any signs that I was cracking. There weren’t, and I wasn’t.
He went on. “They say they want what’s best for me. I know I can make them see that being friends with you is what’s best for me. But it’s gonna take time, Sadie. Please.”
“How much time, Cooper?” I was shocked by how hollow my voice sounded. I didn’t have the energy for rage anymore. “The test is on Monday. You’ll be at Flourish with your Lucky friends next year, and I’ll be some girl you used to know. Felicia’s right. Just forget it. Forget me,” I said, and shut the door in his face.
* * *
Terrible, devastating things happened that Friday the thirteenth.
Knives fell from tabletops and slashed unprotected toes. Umbrellas were foolishly carried into houses, and eyes were put out by wickedly sharp points. People behaved in strange, rash ways, as though the day itself had cast a spell upon them.
The most frightening of all, in my opinion, were the birds.
A flock of crows so thick that light from the rising sun couldn’t fight its way between them descended on my street moments after Cooper left. When the house grew unnaturally dark, I ran to the window. Even more black feathers were scattered across the lawn this morning, but several of the fake crow wings were flayed open where they hung, still strung from the branches. I breathed a sigh of relief.
A crow on the thatch, soon death lifts the latch.
It killed me that the people with luck dared to celebrate the unluckiest of days with a party. They threw a dance and wore costumes of glittery black-feathered masks paired with dark clothing. For them, there was nothing to fear and everything to gain. The crows always visited Luckies in multiples—twos, fives, or sixes—and brought good fortune right along with them.
One crow sorrow
Two crows joy
Three crows a girl
Four crows a boy
Five crows silver
Six crows gold
Seven crows a secret never to be told
I tried not to think about Felicia with her raven-colored hair, new black dress, and piercing blue eyes—which tonight would be framed by the most glorious feathered mask as she danced with Cooper.
Cooper. I asked him to forget about me, but I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to forget about him. And I didn’t know if that would be a blessing or a curse when I was shipped off to Bane’s School for Luckless Adolescents. Would the thought of him sting like pouring salt in an open wound, the way it did now? Or would I be able to picture his smile and somehow feel warmer inside?
I hadn’t won the spelling bee and kick-started a winning streak. I hadn’t discovered any lucky charms in Rispin Field. I’d decided against trapping the cat. I hadn’t been able to do anything to turn my luck around. My last hope was to make my birthday wish, but I had no reason to think it would go my way when everything else had gone so horribly wrong. Not that I wouldn’t still try. But it seemed like the best I could do now was make an effort to prevent any more calamities before I was forced to part with everyone I loved.
Mom and I had skipped a few preparations the night before because she had to rush off to work. As she was leaving, she’d laughed nervously and said that we were probably “going overboard” with all the measures anyway. But when it came to precautions, I could no longer think of any as being excessive.
I hurried to drape black cloths over our mirrors. We owned very few of them, for obvious reasons. There was the mirror in the bathroom and the one above the dresser in Mom’s room. They were both securely fastened to the wall, but on Friday the thirteenth, there was an added danger of catching Death itself staring back at you in the reflection. So they had to be covered.
When I finished with the mirrors, I started in on the windows, pulling all the blinds shut to discourage the birds from tapping at the glass.
I paused outside Petey’s door. Then I cracked it just a hair. He was still sleeping, and the sound of his breathing hummed in my ears like the sweetest of lullabies—steady, soft, and low. In the pit of my stomach, I felt lingering fragments of the fear I’d experienced when I thought I’d lost him. They jabbed at my insides as if I had swallowed jagged pieces of broken glass.
How could I feel like the luckiest person alive to have him sleeping soundly in his bed and the unluckiest person in the world, all at the same time?
My mom walked in the front door while I was standing outside Petey’s room, listening to him breathe. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles from being up all night working. She was still wearing her uniform, and her curls were a tangled mess. But at least she was smiling … and holding a cheap paper horn in one hand and my boxed-up birthday cake in the other.
She blew the horn and said, “Happy birthday, Sadie!” obviously going for cheerful but sounding a little flat.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, knowing that being festive didn’t come easy to her. Dad had always been the confetti thrower, the hanger of streamers, and the starter of songs. Mom was content to cut cake slices and make certain everyone had a napkin. Doing it all was a lot to ask.
“Oh, let’s just have cake now. What do you say? Why wait until after dinner for dessert when we can have it for breakfast?”
The suggestion caught me totally off guard. I wasn’t quite prepared for the candles yet, but I also didn’t want to ruin Mom’s attempt at spontaneity. Before I could answer, she was bustling into the kitchen and stuffing a dish towel beneath the door to block a potentially flame-extinguishing draft.
Then she added the candles to the cake—putting all twelve in a tight little circle in the center. She did everything she could to ensure my success, all with a smile on her face.
But, behind the smile, there was a deep sadness in her eyes. With everything else, I hadn’t really given much thought to how difficult today would be for her.
Not only did she have her exam, this was the first year we’d be celebrating my birthday without my dad.
“It’s great. Cake for breakfast sounds perfect.”
“Did someone say cake?” Petey said as he drowsily wandered out of his bedroom and came to a stop beside me.
Mom blew the horn again. She really was trying to make this fun. Petey flashed me a grin and then bounded over to the table. He took a seat. I lagged behind. Zeta had said a birthday wish was a good start if I somehow obtained one and if I used it correctly. I’d given it a great deal of thought, but I still wasn’t sure exactly how to do just that.
Up until the past week, I’d been absolutely certain that if I managed to make a wish on my twelfth birthday, I’d use it for passing the Luck Test. B
ut now everything was so muddled. Petey was watching me with the most hopeful eyes as I took a seat across from him. I knew exactly what he wanted me to wish for.
But if I wished for Wink to come back, I’d still have the seven-year curse hanging over my head in addition to being unlucky to the core. Yet what were my other options? I wasn’t sure I’d even survive long enough to see next school year, so wishing to pass the Luck Test seemed almost pointless now. Wishing for the curse to end was most likely too lofty a wish. Certainly wishing to be flat-out lucky had to be. Not that that had stopped me when I was at the Wishing Well. But still, I had a better chance this time, minuscule as it was, and I didn’t want to be too greedy and have it blow up in my face.
My head hurt from lack of sleep and trying to sort it all out, and Mom was already striking a match to light the candles. All I really wanted was for Mom and Petey to be safe, but once I was out of the picture—at Bane’s or … otherwise—they most likely would be.
Sitting, waiting for my cake at the kitchen table, everything around me seemed distorted somehow. My vision was foggy. The sound of Petey and Mom singing “Happy Birthday” was muffled by the pounding of my heart, the ringing in my ears. And behind the blinds I’d drawn earlier, the wind began to whip against the plastic covering the broken window.
“Wait!” I wanted to scream. “I’m not ready!”
But my mother was already carrying the cake toward me. I couldn’t find my voice before Mom was saying, “Make a wish, Sadie!” She sounded far away even though, really, she was standing directly in front of me as she set down the green pistachio ice-cream cake, ablaze with twelve flickering candles.
Then I glanced at Petey’s face, his eyes brimming with hope again as he waited breathlessly for me to blow the candles out. I thought about Betsy using her wish on her brother even though he’d wasted his. Petey hadn’t done anything wrong. Even running off into the night—he’d just been following his heart.
