Lizzy and the Good Luck Girl

by Susan Lubner

  “It sounds phenomenal. You have the best ideas.” He smiled at me.

  “Speaking of ideas… you know our cat sweater sale at the diner we’re having on Saturday?” I asked.

  “I’m listening.” He tucked his pen behind his ear. “You’re not going to ask me to offer a free meal to anyone who orders a sweater, are you?”

  “Hey, we didn’t think of that,” I said, “but no, that’s not what I was going to ask you. We want to have some of the shelter cats around while we take cat sweater orders. It would definitely help to put a face to our cause.”

  “A cat face,” Joss added.

  “Diners and stray cats don’t mix, girls,” Dad said.

  “But it’s a sidewalk event. They won’t come inside. It will be awesome. People will see the cats, order a sweater, and then go inside for a meal. It will be good for your business, too.”

  “Well.” Dad swallowed back a burp and tapped at the middle of his chest. I gave him a worried look. But he shook his head and said, “Heartburn. Now, as far as your fund-raiser, it all sounds great. We’ll make it work.”

  Joss held her fist out for me to bump. But before we touched knuckles, my brain threw itself into reverse. I had an awful thought. Could we make it work? Would it be great? Would anyone even show up to our event knowing that it was 100 percent because of me that my own cat had run away? How lame was it to think anyone would want to buy a Cozy Cat sweater if they thought that Smoky was holed up in a wall just so he wouldn’t have to wear one?

  My spaghetti brain was back. A big, sticky, knotted mess. I had better hurry up and get it untangled.

  CHAPTER

  16

  AFTER JOSS LEFT, I WENT STRAIGHT TO MY ROOM to see Charlotte.

  “Hey,” I said, closing my bedroom door.

  “You didn’t tell me your parents were coming home early!” she said. She swung the closet door open and stretched out her legs. Fudge hopped off her lap and trotted over to see me. I kneeled down to scratch his head. I should have used him instead of Smoky for the demonstration.

  “I didn’t know,” I said, feeling annoyed. “Remember yesterday when you were watching TV in the living room? I told you to be careful? I can’t help if they decide to leave work early. I can’t control everything.” Those words surprised me when I heard them come out of my mouth. Joss was always saying, you can’t control everything, when she brushed off my signs.

  “I finished the crackers.” Charlotte held up the box and shook it. “It’s like torture smelling diner food every second. I’m practically drooling on myself.” She sounded cranky, too. I couldn’t really blame her, being crammed in a tiny closet and hungry. But I had had a bad day, too.

  I scooted closer to her and handed her the half sandwich I had saved and the rest of my ice cream.

  “Thanks,” she said. Charlotte pushed the sandwich into her mouth, taking a huge bite. She watched me while she chewed, and I looked away. “What’s wrong?” she asked, after she swallowed.

  “Lots,” I said.

  “Does it have to do with why your parents were home early?”

  “My dad wasn’t feeling well.” Then I explained what happened and how he had to go to the hospital.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzy. I didn’t know,” Charlotte said. “He’s okay now, right?”

  “I think so. And I’m sorry, too, if I sounded a little nasty, but… I’ve had a really crummy day.”

  Charlotte nodded. “How did it go with Smoky?” she asked.

  “It didn’t go well.” Fudge stepped onto my lap.

  “What happened? He didn’t cooperate?”

  “No, he didn’t… I mean, it’s bad…” I swallowed hard, holding back the tears that had been trying to spill out all day.

  “What’s bad?” Charlotte asked. She stopped chewing.

  I sucked in a huge gulp of air and let it out in slow motion before I told her. “Smoky’s missing.”

  “What do you mean missing? Where’d he go?”

  “He’s in a hole in a wall,” I explained. I looked away from her. It sounded as bad as it was. I bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

  “What happened?”

  I explained how the cat had gotten spooked and run. “I really didn’t think he’d do that. I mean, of course I didn’t think that, because then I never would have brought him to school.” My throat tightened, and I had to stop talking. When I could speak again, I added, “I’m really sorry. I know he’s like your cat, too. I feel awful he’s inside that hole.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I guess hiding out in a hole in the wall isn’t the worst thing. The reason for hiding is much worse. I should know, right?”

  “Yeah” was the only thing I could think of to say, because it was totally true. I knew she was talking about her parents. But it was true for Smoky, too. He must have been scared to death. I saw a tear slide down her face. And I let mine go, too.

  Charlotte reached out of the closet and wiped my cheek with the back of her hand. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “But I also know he can’t hide forever,” Charlotte said. “I mean, he probably won’t want to. Hiding out gets pretty boring.”

  Cats sort of like being bored, I thought, but decided not to point out.

  “I don’t know what Smoky is doing in his hole in the wall,” Charlotte continued, “but besides thinking about eating, I did some knitting.” She held up a finished cat sweater and a second that was about halfway done.

  “Those are great! Even the leg holes, wow.” I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do leg holes without Joss’s help. But I guess Charlotte could show me. She smiled a little bit, and I smiled back at her.

  Charlotte reached to the side of the closet. “And I made these.” She held up a colorful poster. There was a gray cat wearing a sweater in the middle of it. Smoky. He was floating above Earth, and there were other planets and stars and a yellow moon around him. To spell out “Heart the World,” she had drawn a giant red heart in front of the words “the world.” It seemed to float across the page like it was drifting in outer space. A second poster had a cat curled up in a puddle of yellow sunshine napping on a heart-shaped rug, and another cat stretched out over the back of a chair that was covered in hearts. All the cats were wearing Cozy Cat sweaters.

  “These are awesome!” I told her.

  “Thanks. Lots of little hearts make up that one big heart, see.”

  I hadn’t noticed before, but I saw them all now. There must have been at least a hundred tiny red hearts, together, forming the shape of the one big heart. “Wow. That must have taken a long time,” I said.

  “Yup. Good thing I have lots of it to spare. You said you didn’t have time to do it yesterday, so I thought I’d help you.”

  “Thank you.” I studied the posters, and when I looked up, I saw that Charlotte was crying again.

  “It’s so weird, isn’t it?” she asked, holding up the poster with all the little hearts. “Making this poster about love. And there’s, like, none at all left in my family.”

  “Don’t say that. No matter what, your parents still love you,” I said.

  “Not enough to keep us a family, though, right? What problem could be so big that you would leave your own family?”

  “You left yours,” I said.

  Charlotte wiped at her nose. “Because we aren’t going to be a family anymore. But when they finally see that… and my dad changes his mind… I mean… how would you feel if your dad told you he was going to leave?”

  “It would stink. But I know my dad loves me no matter what.”

  “You’re so lucky. No one in your family has ever left you.”

  But that wasn’t true. I did know what it felt like to have someone leave my family. Not in the way her dad was leaving hers. But it still hurt.

  I heard a knock at my bedroom door. Charlotte pulled in her legs. I jumped up and practically fell against the closet door, closing her inside.

  “Hi, lovely,” Mom said, strolling into my room. “You okay?”
<
br />   My heart pounded. How much drama could one person take in a single day?

  “I’m sad,” I said a little breathlessly.

  Mom rolled her bottom lip into a frown and tipped her head to the side. Her way of saying, I get it. I’m sorry. “I know it seems like the worst day ever, but first of all, Daddy is fine, and second, I just know that Smoky will be back. Cats love to sneak away sometimes. I once had a cat that disappeared for two whole weeks and then came home.” She sat down on the edge of my bed. “I just got up from a nap. I was pooped.” She lay back. Her feet, covered in striped slouchy socks, dangled above the floor. Mom looked like a big mountain with her stomach up in the air like that. “I pulled a post-baby chicken pie out of the freezer for dinner,” she said. “It’s heating up for us now.”

  I heard a soft sound from the closet. A teeny tiny mmmm.

  I sucked in my breath.

  “Yes, yum!” Mom struggled a bit before she was able to push herself upright.

  “What’s a post-baby chicken pie?” I asked.

  “I’ve been stockpiling dinners to freeze and made a bunch of homemade chicken pies. After the baby is born, life will be easier if I can just pull supper out of the freezer.”

  I nodded. “True.”

  “I’m excited to try one tonight. It’s a super healthy chicken pie recipe. Good thing, because the doctor told your dad today to knock it off with his bad eating habits. Now it isn’t just me nagging.”

  Mom stood up. She grabbed a sweater that was slung over the back of my chair and carried it to the closet.

  “I’ll hang that up,” I said. “You should go rest.”

  “I feel fine. I just woke up. Besides, I’m nesting.” She winked at me.

  I knew all about nesting. Pregnant ladies liked to start cooking and cleaning before their babies came. It was like some weird reaction for readying themselves. I’d seen her do it before.

  Mom reached for the knob on the closet door.

  “Wait!” I yelled.

  Her head whipped around. “What?!” Her hand flew up to her chest. “Gosh, Lizzy! You scared me!”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that… you shouldn’t be picking up after me.”

  “Were you going to hang it up yourself?” Mom raised her eyebrows and gave me a doubting look. “I appreciate you doting on me, but I’m fine.”

  I grabbed the sweater out of her hands. “You should be relaxing. Especially after working.”

  “I didn’t work much today, remember?”

  “Well, I can hang up my own stuff.” I stood there gripping the sweater so tightly my fingers looked pale.

  “Fine,” she said. Then she pulled the closet door wide open and swung her arm toward the inside like people do when they say after you.

  I gasped. Fudge peeked in. And Charlotte made a little yelping noise.

  “What is it?” Mom asked, still looking my way and not in the closet.

  “Nothing,” I said hurrying awkwardly in front of her so I was half blocking her view. I could see Charlotte was pushed back as far as she could go behind my bathrobe, which, thankfully, was so long it hung to the floor. But I saw part of one foot sticking out. And the blankets and pillows that were Charlotte’s so-called bed. “I… I… just remembered homework stuff, that’s all.”

  Mom grabbed a hanger. “Here you go.” She handed it to me. “Why don’t you eat first, then do homework? You’ll think better on a full stomach.”

  I was dying to close the door, but Mom’s giant tummy was in the way. Which was also hopefully blocking her view of the floor. Charlotte obviously had no clue her foot was showing, because she didn’t try to move it out of sight. The longer we stood there with the door open, the bigger Charlotte’s toes seemed to grow.

  “Okay,” I said. “Do you think dinner’s ready now?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  Move out of the way! I wanted to scream at the toes and my mother.

  Then Mom looked straight into my closet. I saw her eyes widen.

  My throat closed.

  “You should go through your clothes. Surely you’ve outgrown some of these things.” She pulled at some of my tops and sweaters hanging just inches from my robe. “Why don’t we donate the stuff that doesn’t fit you to someone who could wear it?”

  There wasn’t even a sip of air left in my lungs. I tried to take a deep breath.

  “Oh my goodness!” Mom squealed. Just when I thought I might pass out, she turned to face me. “What’s the matter with me? Pregnancy brain! I came in here to tell you something important!”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Sergeant Blumstein is stopping by tonight.”

  “What for?”

  “I suppose he wants to ask us if we noticed anything unusual the day of the fire.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” I said quickly. “Are you sure it’s about the fire?”

  “What else could it be about?” She smiled. “It’s possible that one of us might have seen something that seemed like no biggie to us, but might be meaningful to the police and fire department.”

  “’Kay,” was all I managed to say because a train wreck was piling up inside me.

  Mom seemed to notice how nervous I was. “You don’t need to worry about Sergeant Blumstein. It’s not like you have anything to hide.”

  She left and shut the door.

  And from the closet, in the tiniest voice, I heard the words, “Except for me.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  “WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE TRIPLE DECKER Saturday morning?” Sergeant Blumstein leaned over the kitchen table in front of me. My parents stood, one on each side of him—two crazy-eyed bookends.

  “Lizzy! Were you inside that house?” My mother reached across Blumstein and grabbed at my father’s arm in a panic.

  “Inside the house? When?” Dad asked.

  “Let me make this clear up front,” Blumstein said. “I’m not accusing Lizzy of having anything to do with the fire, but she was seen coming out a window of that house on Saturday morning just after nine thirty.”

  “Lizzy!” my mother practically shouted. “Why?” Her face turned as white as the kitchen cabinets.

  “Which Saturday?” I said. Which was about the dumbest answer ever. I had sort of just admitted that I had snuck into the house another time, even though I hadn’t. And was Blumstein just pretending that he didn’t think I had started the fire? Was he trying to trick me? Was this about Charlotte? Had someone seen her going into the apartment, too? I tried to stop my brain from thinking the worst, but apparently my mind had a mind of its own. I pressed my fingers against my temples.

  “Lizzy, did you hear the sergeant?” Mom asked. “He said, this past Saturday. The day of the fire.” My mother looked like she was about to cry.

  “Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”

  “Again,” Blumstein said, “I’m not accusing you of setting the fire, though slipping into a building you are clearly supposed to stay out of isn’t going to earn you a gold star; ya know what I mean?”

  My head nodded so fast it looked like the kitchen was jiggling.

  “So the fire was set by someone?” my father interrupted.

  “I didn’t say that, either, Henry. I said someone saw your daughter coming out of the front window. And I need to be thorough in this investigation before we can definitively say what caused the fire.”

  My parents and Blumstein stared from across the table, waiting for me to say something. It felt like Team Everybody against Team Lizzy. And how unfair was it that I was the only one seated, since I’d be the one most likely to have to make a run for it?

  “Someone saw me? Who?”

  Blumstein crossed his arms in front of his chest. When he shifted, the handcuffs hanging from his belt clinked against his clip-on walkie-talkie. In spite of the tsunami-sized wave of fear rising up inside me, I couldn’t help noticing that he carried around a lot of equipment.

  “Who saw you is not import
ant,” he told me.

  “They only saw me?” I asked. How stupid could I be? That was like a three-pointer for the other team.

  Blumstein pounced on my mistake. “Why? Was there someone else with you?”

  I took a deep breath. If this was a scene from a TV show, I would be lawyering up. But then I’d be making myself look guilty. Oh, that’s right. I was already doing that.

  “Lizzy.” Sergeant Blumstein said my name like it tasted bad. He raised his eyebrows. Cut to the chase, those bushy things seemed to be saying.

  “Nope,” I lied. “There wasn’t anyone with me. But if there was someone with me, then the person who saw me was mistaken because they said I was alone.” Yikes! That made about as much sense as a toothless comb. I definitely didn’t operate well when I was nervous. And now I knew what a sideways look meant by the one Dad shot at me from across the table.

  “Lizzy,” Dad said. He swiped at his hair. “Was Joss with you?”

  Seriously? Thrown under the bus by my own father.

  “Are they sure it was me?” I asked.

  Blumstein sighed. “Well, were you there?”

  “Lizzy. Tell the truth. This is important,” Mom said. “Sergeant Blumstein just wants your help. That’s all, right?” she asked him. She rubbed her big belly. This was stressing her out. Stress wasn’t good for the baby.

  The ice maker kicked on, and I heard the plink sound of ice dropping into the plastic bucket inside the freezer. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. I don’t know why, in the middle of all this, I was thinking that ice making and microwaving popcorn were kind of alike. Kernels popped like crazy all at once until the final few spaced-out pops. Ice did that, too, in its own way. Plinking all at once until the ice bin was full, and then the few final cubes dropping. I listened for more plinks.

  If three more cubes dropped, that was a sign to tell the truth.

  Plink.

  If less than three dropped…

  … Plink…