“Any more?”
Philip read down the list. “How about; It’s unlucky to sit at a table unless one foot touches the floor.”
Emery nodded. “Yeah, we can use that. I’ll get a big chair for him to sit on and eat and then tell him the way to break his bad luck is to . . . uh . . . ”
“How about the way to break his bad luck is to keep one foot on the floor all day.”
Emery laughed and nodded. “And wear a dress inside out while he’s doing it. He won’t be able to walk, and he’ll be too embarrassed to leave the house.”
“Right, he’ll be stuck inside all day.”
“This is great. You’re a genius, Philip,” Emery complimented his friend. “Leon won’t be able to get out of the house the whole time he stays here, and we can just ignore him and go out and play.”
“Let’s find some more,” Philip insisted and Emery agreed.
Two hours later after lunch Philip and Emery were still in Emery’s bedroom reading over the list of superstitions they had printed out, when they heard the doorbell. They listened as Emery’s mother shouted an irritable, “I’m coming.”
They heard the front door open and then heavy footsteps plodding up the stairs.
“Leon,” Emery whispered, and Philip quickly folded up their list of superstitions and shoved it into Emery’s desk drawer.
They stared out of Emery’s bedroom door and gradually Leon’s head, chest, and legs appeared as he climbed the stairs. When Leon reached the top, he stared at the two boys who were staring back at him. He put his hand to his forehead in dismay, shook his head side to side slowly, and walked into the room.
He looked at his two friends and said, “I’ve got it.”
“You’ve got it? You’ve got what?” Philip asked.
“The doctor talked to me and he says I’ve got it.”
“Got what!” Emery shouted.
Sadly, Leon looked from Emery to Philip and back to Emery again.
“I’ve got triskaidekaphobia.”
The room stayed silent for a moment. Then Emery said, “What is tris blah blah phobium?”
Tears appeared in Leon’s eyes. “You’re making fun of me. I’ve got triskaidekaphobia and you’re making fun of me.”
“We’re not making fun of you, Leon,” Philip assured him. “We don’t even know what trissaphobium is.”
“It’s not trissaphobium,” Leon shouted. “It’s triskaidekaphobia and it’s serious.”
“Are you going to tell us what it is?” Emery insisted. “Do you gotta go to the hospital? Get an operation? Take medicine?”
“No, no, no. It means I’m afraid of the number thirteen.”
Silence fell in the room again.
“That’s all?” Philip asked.
“That’s all? That’s all?” Leon waved his arms around. “Thirteen is the most unluckiest number there is. I had thirteen coins in my pocket today until I made that stupid sneeze. I chipped my tooth the thirteenth time I jumped up and down on the bed.”
“You were counting?” Emery said doubtfully.
“It was about thirteen.” Leon seesawed his hand. “Anyway, it’s the worst number and it’s after me. Anytime a thirteen is around, I’m in trouble.”
Philip heard Emery’s mother wearily climbing the stairs. Without thinking he began to count. When the sound of Mrs. Wyatt’s footsteps ceased, he had a plan. Emery would really owe him for this one.
“Leon,” Philip began, “I hate to tell you, but you’re in big trouble.”
“What? What?” Leon asked in a panic.
“You didn’t pay attention when you came upstairs, but there are thirteen steps up to Emery’s bedroom and you climbed them.”
“Arghgh!” Leon gasped.
“There are?” Emery asked. “I mean there are. Yeah, thirteen.” He shrugged at Philip while Leon plastered his hand to his forehead, shook his head, and moaned.
“Yeah, so you better not do it twice,” Philip advised. “You better stay in this room the whole week until your parents get back from your trip, and then we’ll try to get you home safely.”
Emery’s eyes widened. “That’s right, Leon. You’ll be safe here. Nothing can happen to you here.”
“Oh, no. Oh, no. I was looking forward to playing with you guys. I don’t even have any clothes or nothing.”
“Don’t worry, Leon, we’ll go and get them for you,” Philip promised. “We’re your friends.”
“Yeah,” Emery agreed. “We’ll get them, especially pajamas. Lots of pajamas.”
Leon sat slumped on the bed, head in hand, and moaned, “Thanks, guys.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Mrs. Wyatt stood in Emery’s doorway.
Neither Philip nor Emery answered.
Leon looked up and said, “I’ve got triskaidekaphobia, Aunt Shirley. I got it bad.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s face sagged. “Leon, what is that?” she asked.
“I’m afraid of the number thirteen.”
“Yeah,” Emery chimed in. “And ’cause we got thirteen steps and he climbed them, he’s too afraid to go back down so he’s gonna have to stay in this room for the whole week he’s here. I’ll bring his food up to him, Mom. Don’t worry, you won’t have to.”
Mrs. Wyatt stared at the three boys. She turned and walked slowly down the hallway. Philip thought he heard her muttering, “I love my family. I love my family.” Abruptly, she turned back and confronted Leon.
“Leon, listen. You can go downstairs whenever you want.”
“Oh, I can’t. I can’t. Thirteen.”
“Step over the first step and only use twelve of them. Twelve isn’t a bad number is it?”
“Oh, I can’t, I . . . twelve?” Leon lifted up his head and his eyes brightened.
Mrs. Wyatt went on. “And when you get to the bottom, jump the last couple steps, and it will be even further away from thirteen. Or slide down the banister a couple of steps. I don’t care,” Mrs. Wyatt said wearily. “But you really can’t spend a week in this room. You have to go out. Go out to play.” Mrs. Wyatt turned and started away, her voice rising. “You have to go out. Out.”
“Thanks a lot, Aunt Shirley,” Leon called jubilantly.
“Yeah, thanks a lot, Mom,” Emery cried in a tone of voice far different from Leon’s.
Leon turned to Philip and Emery, a big smile on his face.
“Now I don’t have to stay in the room. I can go out with you guys and do everything you do. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, great,” Philip muttered.
“Yahoo,” Emery mumbled.
“This is my lucky-day. This is my lucky-day,” Leon sang.
Philip and Emery looked at one another. Both boys knew that it hadn’t been their lucky day.
Chapter Six
Leon’s parents dropped him off at Emery’s house the next day, Tuesday, bright and early. Mrs. Wyatt was up, getting ready for her two daughters to wake up and her day’s work to begin.
“Leon,” she cautioned, “don’t make the slightest bit of noise. I don’t want the babies up before I’m ready for them.”
“I won’t,” Leon whispered. “I’ll go upstairs real easy.”
Leon tiptoed to the staircase.
“Remember, quiet, Leon. And be careful,” Mrs. Wyatt warned. She had dealt with Leon many times before.
Leon circled his thumb and index finger into an okay sign and, remembering there were thirteen steps counted his way to the tenth. Then he tried to leap to the twelfth step so he could reach the top in twelve strides rather than thirteen. He was still carrying his wide cloth bag filled with his clothes, though, and it got in the way. His foot sank into the bag and his ankle turned, sending him smacking into the railing and grunting loudly. Then his other foot missed the step, and he careened sideways into the opposite wall and started thumping backwards toward the floor.
“Yow!” he shrieked, turning as best he could onto his stomach and stretching out his arms to halt his slide down the stairs. When h
e reached the fourth step, he grabbed the railing and stopped himself. At the sudden explosion of noise, Emery shot upright in his bed and a chorus of wails arose from Amy and Tina.
Leon sat on the fifth step and stared in befuddlement at his aunt. Then he grinned.
“Yuk Yuk. I fell.”
“What was that?” Emery shouted from his bedroom. “Oh, I know. I’ll bet Leon’s here.”
“Mommy’s coming. Mommy’s coming,” Mrs. Wyatt shouted, moving past Leon on the stairway and mumbling, “I love my family. I love my family.”
“What’d you say, Aunt Shirley?” Leon asked.
“Leon, it’s you. I knew it,” said Emery, standing at the top of the stairs in his pajamas. “It’s not even eight o’clock yet. What did you say, Mom?”
His mother walked past him without answering.
“I’m here,” Leon announced, standing and smiling. “I’ll come up to your room.”
“Wait,” Emery cried, holding out his hand. “Uh, uh, the steps. You already used up most of your steps. If you get to thirteen you’ll have bad luck. More bad luck.” He wanted to keep Leon away as long as he could. “How many’d you already do?”
A worried look came over Leon’s face. He pointed a finger at each step and counted.
“I better not come up,” he said. “I’ll just go back down.”
“Good idea. Go down and sit someplace ’til Philip gets here. Sit someplace and don’t move.”
“How long?” Leon asked, carefully descending one step at a time.
“’Til nine-thirty. Go. Go sit.”
Leon disappeared into the living room, and Emery went back to bed.
“Oh, you’re here already,” Philip said as a greeting when Leon opened the front door for him.
“Yep. Already fell down the stairs. Yuk yuk.”
“In the kitchen,” came Emery’s voice.
Philip went into the kitchen as Emery was putting his empty cereal bowl into the sink.
“He fell down the stairs one minute after he got here and woke up the babies.”
Philip looked at Leon’s belt.
“Where are your rabbits’ feet?”
“Packed them in my clothes bag. Pretty dumb, eh? If I had them on, I probably wouldn’t have fallen down the stairs. Yuk yuk.”
“Well, go put them on,” Emery ordered.
Philip and Emery had said good-bye the day before only after agreeing on a plan to use against Leon. They cast a glance at one another and waited for Leon to go through his bag and attach the rabbits’ feet to his belt.
Philip and Emery followed him and watched.
“See, I told you,” Philip whispered to Emery as loud as he could and pointed at the rabbits’ feet.
Emery shushed him dramatically.
“What?” Leon asked in alarm, glancing down at his lucky charms.
“Don’t,” Philip warned Emery, shaking his head.
“Don’t what?” Leon demanded.
“Well,” Emery began, “I think Philip is right. I don’t think we should tell you.”
“Tell me. Tell me,” Leon insisted in a panic.
Emery shook his head in worry and in the saddest voice he could come up with said, “You’ve been wearing those rabbits’ feet just like that, right? Three. An odd number.”
“And with sneakers on your feet,” Philip added.
“With white laces,” Emery said.
Leon inspected himself.
“Well, yeah.”
“It’s bad luck,” Emery announced.
“Real bad luck,” Philip put in. “Especially the odd number of rabbits’ feet.”
“I’ll take one off. Here, I’m taking it off.” Leon fumbled with the tiny chain that clipped the rabbit’s foot to his belt. “There, it’s off.”
“Oh, no, Leon. You shouldn’t have done that,” Emery advised.
“Why didn’t you stop him, Emery?” Philip cried.
“He did it too fast,” said Emery.
“What? What?”
Emery put his hand on Leon’s shoulder. “You should only add to rabbits’ feet and never take one off. That doubles the bad luck you’re going to get.”
“Achh!” Leon burst. “Do something. Do something. I already fell down the steps. The bad luck already started. Do something.”
Emery and Philip looked sadly at one another.
“What? What?” Leon demanded.
“The only way to fix the bad luck is . . . ” Philip stopped and shook his head.
“Tell me!”
“You tell him, Emery,” Philip said.
“Why me?” Leon moaned, tilting his forehead into his raised right hand.
“You’re family,” Philip continued his argument.
“Yeah, you’re my family, Emery. You gotta help me.”
“It’s hard to do,” Emery warned. “Getting rid of the bad luck, I mean.”
“I don’t care. The bad luck’s coming. I can feel it. I can feel it.”
Philip smacked Emery lightly on the shoulder. “Tell him, Emery. He should have a fair chance.”
Leon nodded vigorously. “Fair chance. Fair chance.”
“Okay, Leon. Here’s what you gotta do.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
Emery explained. “You have to take off the rabbits’ feet and hang one over each ear.”
Leon scurried to detach the other two rabbits’ feet. He connected the chains again and slipped a rabbit’s foot over each ear.
“Now what?” Leon asked, looking around warily. “Hurry, before the bad luck gets here.”
Philip saw Emery was about to burst out laughing so he took over.
“You gotta wear your jeans inside out and pull your shirt up over your ears and let it hang backward off your head like an Egyptian headdress.”
Leon tore off his pants and turned them inside out. He jumped back into them and lifted his shirt over his head.
“A little more,” said Emery. “The rabbits’ feet have to hang out.”
Leon obeyed.
“One last thing,” said Emery. “You have to take off your sneakers and wear them on your hands.”
Leon sat on the floor, took off his sneakers, changed them into gloves.
“Now if you stay like that all day,” Emery said, “you’ll be safe from any bad luck.”
“You forgot the last thing,” said Philip.
“Ohhhhh. You’re right,” Emery nodded.
“What is it? Hurry.”
“You have to sit on a rug until it gets dark.”
“A rug? A rug? What kind of rug?”
Emery pointed to the living room.
“You sit there,” said Emery, “and Philip and I will stop back once in a while to see how you’re doing.”
“Not,” Philip whispered to himself.
“I can’t go out with you guys?” Leon said sadly.
“You wouldn’t want people seeing you like that, would you?” Philip asked sympathetically. “And where would you get a rug to sit on outside?”
The boys turned at the sound of babies crying, and Mrs. Wyatt appeared, a baby in each arm. She took two steps and stopped.
When Leon saw his aunt staring at him, he gave a shy wave of one sneaker and stood up.
“I gotta stay in all day, Aunt Shirley.”
“What are you doing, Leon?” Mrs. Wyatt asked wearily. “Why do you look like that? Why are your pants inside out?”
“It’s to keep bad luck away. That’s why I fell down the stairs because of odd rabbits’ feet. I’m gonna sit on the rug in the living room all day.”
Philip thought he saw tears rise into Mrs. Wyatt’s eyes.
“No, no,” she said softly. “No, you can’t . . . you have to go out with the other boys. Be still, Amy.”
“I can’t, Aunt Shirley!” Leon said in a panic. “I got to stay in. Bad luck will get me. It’ll be an awful day. I’ll fall down all the stairs in the world. I’ll . . .”
“Leon!” Mrs. Wyatt shouted.
Both Leon and the two babies were stunned into silence.
“Emery, hold Amy. Philip, hold Tina.”
She gave each of the boys a baby. She went into the kitchen and came back with her purse.
“Leon, I was shopping yesterday and guess what?”
“What?” Leon asked doubtfully.
“I found a brand new penny. Heads up!” she said in voice filled with momentary joy and excitement. “Take it. I give it to you. It’s guaranteed to bring good luck no matter what. Isn’t that good news? Now you can go out,” and she pointed at the door.
“Is it true?” Leon asked, taking the shiny penny and looking hopefully at Philip and Emery, both of whom declined to answer.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, Aunt Shirley,” Leon cried gratefully. He shook his hands and his sneakers dropped to the floor. Then he pulled his shirt off his head.
“Close your eyes, Aunt Shirley. I gotta take my pants off.”
Mrs. Wyatt rolled her eyes, took back her babies, and started toward the kitchen.
Leon pulled his pants off.
“Thanks, Aunt Shirley. Thanks a lot!” he called after her. Then as Leon dressed himself, he began to sing. “I’m goin’ out with yo-u. I’m goin’ out with yo-u.”
Philip and Emery stomped to the front door and left the house, Leon hopping behind with one shoe on and one shoe off shouting, “Hey, wait for me, guys.”
Chapter Seven
“Boy, you guys were great yesterday,” Leon said with a smile next morning. “You really tried to keep my bad luck away. And see, only two rabbits’ feet today. Even.” Then he sang, “You guys were so-great. You guys were so-great.”
Philip and Emery stared at Leon as he walked past the kitchen where they were sitting. They heard him go carefully up the stairs, counting out loud to be certain he didn’t take thirteen steps. Then they looked into each other’s eyes as his singing continued from upstairs.
“We gotta do something,” said Philip.
“I know. I know. He spoiled everything yesterday.”
Philip nodded agreement. When they reached the playground the day before, anyone who knew Leon headed the other way. That left no one for Philip and Emery to play with but each other . . . and Leon. Philip tried to get their friends to let them into the baseball game they started, but the friends had seen Leon play baseball too often in the schoolyard. They knew he couldn’t hit. He couldn’t catch. And when he threw, somebody had to go and chase the ball and the runner always scored. So Philip and Emery had to sit morosely on the swings while Leon ran all over, laughing and screaming about booga woogas chasing him as he gleefully used the sliding board, the swings, and every other contraption the playground offered to escape the booga woogas.
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