Just My Luck

by Jeff Anderson

  The end of gym bell rang, which is also the end of school for me.

  I swish-swished to the bus.

  Abhi turned away when she saw me. She rides Blythe’s bus—the one I take when I stay at Mom’s every other week. I’ve only got a few days to fix this mess up. The festival is Saturday, and next week I have to take the same bus as Abhi and Blythe.

  “Hey, T-Man,” more than one person called out as I stepped onto the bus.

  Great. Now I am the boy who wore a thong and knocks new girls off their feet—literally: zack​delaloser.​com.

  CHAPTER 8

  I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT

  When I got off the bus, Mom’s Honda was parked in front of the Villa De La Fontaine. What now? I wasn’t going to Mom’s house till Sunday. Did something happen to Dad? I ran to the car. I knocked on her window, panicked.

  Mom opened her door. “Hey, Zack, those new pants sure look great on you.”

  “Mom …” I stood by her car, looking at the cracks in the sidewalk. “Why are you here?

  “Can’t a Mom come visit her baby bird?” Mom emerged from the car and closed the door.

  I knew why she was really there. She wanted to have one of her talks. After the divorce, AD, Mom always sat on the edge of my bed and asked me to tell her what’s going on. But that was at her house. She’s never come to Dad’s before. And anyway, I couldn’t tell her anything. If I did, I might let out Janie’s plan for the botanica. Mom would never go for that. She barely let me take the bus to school. Mom’s good to talk to because she knows a lot of stuff, but once you tell her something that worries her, she becomes a Momster.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “I guess.” I squinted up to the apartment, thinking about whether this was okay or not. She was my mom. But this wasn’t really her apartment. Though it was mine.

  “I brought a snack.” Mom shook a plastic sack. “Almond butter and crackers.” I love snacks. The offer of a snack wiped away any doubt I’d felt. Even if Mom only gets healthy crackers with seeds and stuff, I was sure it was be better than whatever Dad had in the pantry.

  We walked up the steps. “How was the rest of your day, Zack?” Mom shot questions at me all the way up the stairs, like I was a suspect on some cop show and she was a tough detective.

  “Fine,” I lied. Plus, I couldn’t tell Mom about today because she’d want to talk about every embarrassing detail, making me feel worse. BD—before the divorce—she never asked me about my feelings. AD—after the divorce—she never stops. I don’t know what I’m feeling half the time, and the other half I don’t want to tell my mother. I was careful not to give her any evidence she could use against me later.

  “Oh … this is nice.” Mom said, looking around the apartment. “Where do you keep your plates?”

  I grabbed a paper plate from the plastic dispenser under the cabinet. Mom hates paper plates.

  “Oh, how convenient.” Mom spread the almond butter on the “crackers,” and questioned me about every last shred of the pants problem. I was so embarrassed.

  “It’s no big deal, Mom. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I knew I had to stop her before she asked me how I was feeling.

  “Okay,” Mom crunched her cracker. “But I’m your mom. Can’t you talk to me about how you’re feeling?”

  I did the only thing I could: I crammed the last three almond butter-coated crackers in my mouth to buy time.

  Mom continued. “I thought after today you might need to talk.”

  Chewing, I pointed to my full mouth. “MMM-MMM.”

  Before she could grill me even more, Dad’s keys jingled in the door. For the third time today everything went silent. Dad looked at Mom. Mom looked at Dad. I stopped chewing the dry ball of almond butter and cracker in my mouth.

  “Carlos,” Mom grabbed her purse. “Zack was just showing me the new place.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t know we were having company. I think we’re still a few weeks away from really being settled.”

  “You’ll have to have a housewarming party.” Mom tossed the empty paper plate into the trash. “I know just what I’ll get you.” Mom started to wash the knife.

  “I’ll get that,” Dad said.

  “Sure.” Mom turned and hugged me tight. “Hang in there.”

  After Mom left, Dad asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” I lied. Sometimes things are just too embarrassing to talk to your parents about. The good thing about Dad is, he only asks once, and then it’s like nothing ever happened.

  “Marquis?” I stretched out on the couch, gripping the phone with my shoulder.

  “How’s it going, Zack?”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Well, I am footloose and bandage free, so start wherever you want,” Marquis snickered.

  Without taking a breath, I told Marquis about the girl, the pants, the underwear, the dodgeball assassin, the magic shop, and the new nicknames. “Marquis, are you still there?”

  “Yes,” Marquis said, “But how can I be gone for only one afternoon, and all this goes down?”

  He was right. Marquis usually kept me focused and calm, but with him gone today, I had really come undone like an old bent-up slinky. I needed his help to bend me back together. “Will you go to the botanica with Janie and me tomorrow?” I repeated Please say yes over and over in my head.

  “What’s a botanica?” Marquis asked.

  “It’s sort of like a magic shop.”

  “A magic shop?” Marquis’s voice sounded more interested. “I can’t see any harm in that. What exactly are we going to get there?”

  “Janie didn’t say really, but she said they’d have exactly what I need.”

  “And what is it you need?” Marquis’s voice picked up speed and volume. “Some trick handcuffs or one of those never-ending scarves? Those are great.”

  “I don’t know—something to fix this whole mess with Abhi. I really want to talk to her. I’ve got to figure out a way for her to see the real me, not the mean me she saw today.”

  “Now tell me again. Why do you want to talk to this new girl Abhi? I mean, what’s the big deal?” Marquis waited. “And if you say it’s her ice-gray eyes again, I’m hanging up.”

  I stared at the ceiling fan, spinning above me, rattling a little bit. “I don’t know. I just do. Can you go with us? Please.”

  “I don’t know if Ma will let me, Zack. But I am looking for a walking adventure to try out my new ankle.”

  “This will be an adventure for sure because I have no idea what I’m doing taking a bus with Janie Bustamante to some God-knows-where botanica magic shop. This whole thing has adventure written all over it.”

  “Let me talk to Ma.”

  “You could tell her we are going to the downtown library to do research. I mean, we are doing research in a way, right?” I laughed.

  Marquis was not amused. “I don’t know, Zack.”

  And to tell you the truth, neither did I. After we hung up, I rummaged around my room, the couch cushions, the drawers, anywhere till I’d collected all the change I could and put it with the five-dollar bill Mom had given me for raking up and bagging leaves last week. I even got out the silver dollars Grandpa had given me for my birthday. I popped them out of the plastic they were in, put the money in my backpack, and zipped it up.

  I didn’t know why I was trusting Janie Bustamante.

  I guess I needed some magic on my side.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE OTHER SIDE

  The next morning, Janie strolled into the cafeteria wearing a cheetah-print scarf wrapped around her head. Principal Akins made her take it off before she could get through the breakfast line, which is really just a trough of chocolate milk and Pop-Tarts. She grabbed a Pop-Tart, wrapped it in the scarf, and stomped out.

  Marquis watched Janie exit the cafeteria. “I’m not so sure this adventure thing is a good idea.”

  “You’re coming?
” My face lit up. “For sure?”

  He jingled the quarters in his pants pocket. “Got the bus money and everything. Even a few bucks in case I see a trick or something I want to get at the magic shop.”

  I grabbed his hand and shook it. “You da man, Marquis. What’d you tell Ma?”

  “That I was hanging out with you after school to work on a project.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “It’s the truth. It’s a magic project.”

  “I left the magic part out. She said I have to be ready to leave your apartment at six. She’s picking me up.”

  “That’s great. I’d have to be home by then anyway.”

  Later, in Math class, Janie passed a note. When it arrived on my desk, ZACKVENTUROUS was printed across the front in bubble letters. Oh, my. I opened the note.

  I wasn’t really sure why she signed her name that way or why she was wearing that scarf on her head this morning. I’ve always thought Janie was one taco short of a combination platter, but this was getting me worried about the whole adventure.

  “Hey, Zackventure or whoever you are,” Marquis nudged me. “What’d she say?”

  “We’ve got to go out the back of the school by the B gym.”

  “What?” Marquis’s voice squeaked. “We can’t go out the back doors! Remember what happened to El Pollo Loco last week? He got a day of In School Suspension for doing that.” At Davy Crockett Middle School, to make sure all the students leave the same way at the same time, the teachers and administrators stand guard, forcing us get on a bus or leave from the front of the school. I guess they’re pretty sick of kids by the end of the day.

  “It’ll be okay.” I slid the note to Marquis.

  Mr. Gonzalez, our math teacher, snapped his fingers, “Back to your problem-solving worksheet, gentlemen. Remember to show me how you solved the problems in three different ways.”

  Why wasn’t one answer ever enough? Why isn’t my life like this stupid math worksheet? I’ve got three problems for every solution instead of the other way around. I keep working on solutions all the time, but this time I only have one. This adventure to the botanica with Janie and Marquis had to work. Sorry, Mr. Gonzalez, there aren’t three answers to this one.

  After math, in the hallway, Marquis confessed, “I don’t even know what hole in the fence she’s talking about.”

  “We’ll find it.” Now, I was the calm and centered one.

  “I’m not so sure about this.” Marquis played with the zipper on his powder-blue warm-up jacket. “I’ve never ridden on the city bus by myself.”

  “You won’t be by yourself; you’ll be with me—and Janie. Let’s get to social studies before we get detention and never get out of this place.”

  As we walked down the hall, I thought about what he’d said. The VIA city bus was different. The school bus picked you up and dropped you off. On the city bus, you have to keep track of stops and change buses sometimes. Janie had better know what she’s doing—especially now that I’ve dragged Marquis into this whole thing.

  “It’ll all work out. Trust me.” I wasn’t sure who needed convincing the most—Marquis or me.

  The rest of the day crawled by. But as PE ended, I felt a rush, knowing today we were skipping out on the regular bus—doing something secret. I told Dad I had to go to the library to work on a project, so I didn’t have to be home till six, which should give us plenty of time. What parent could argue with going to the library?

  In the hallway, Marquis and I took a right where we usually took a left.

  Mrs. Darling stood watch at the side door by the B gym, arms crossed, making sure no one sneaked out that way. I knew we had forgotten something. I had to think fast for a good reason for us to being going out the back door.

  “Just be polite, while I think of something,” I told Marquis. I had to come up with an excuse that Mrs. Darling would buy.

  We walked up to Mrs. Darling.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Darling.” Marquis said.

  “Hello, Zack and Marquis, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine afternoon?”

  “Um … well you see … Marquis and I noticed some litter on the field,” I said, “and we wanted to pick it up as part of … our service-learning project in social studies.”

  “Litter! It’s the only part of literature I don’t adore.” Mrs. Darling laughed at her own bad pun.

  I had to fight back a groan. Be polite, I repeated in my head, and I let out the fakest laugh ever.

  Marquis looked at me, confused.

  Mrs. Darling cleared her throat. “In any case, I love it when young people make haste to clean waste.” Mrs. Darling smiled, peering around us. “Where’s your receptacle for the litter?”

  “Uh …” I looked to Marquis. “Ma’am I am not sure what you mean by receptacle?”

  Mrs. Darling’s face began to change into a question mark. “For the rubbish and refuse you find?”

  “Mrs. Darling we’re eleven—we don’t know what those words mean.”

  “We’re using my backpack … for the trash.” Marquis interrupted.

  “Oh, traaaash.” I nodded. “Yeah, his backpack.”

  “OK then.” Mrs. Darling stepped aside and flourished her hand toward the field. “Thank you for your service.”

  We forced ourselves to walk normally until the bell blasted. We turned and watched Mrs. Darling turn like a soldier and march back into the building.

  I was the first one to bolt toward the baseball diamond that baked in the sun.

  “Hey, slow down, man,” Marquis huffed. “My ankle’s not used to running!”

  And for some reason, that cracked me up, and I snorted accidentally.

  “Stop. I can’t run. And. Laugh.” Marquis panted.

  Which was even funnier. This time Marquis snorted, and we both lost it as we rounded the baseball diamond. The field sloped down at an angle toward the fence that surrounded it. All the breaking up caused Marquis to slip. When he reached out to steady himself, he grabbed at me and then we both ended up tumbling down the hill, getting grass all over ourselves.

  As we were lying at the bottom of the hill, my stomach clenched uncontrollably with laughter. I couldn’t catch my breath. “Are you going to help me up?”

  “Get yourself up, I’m searching for that hole in the fence Janie told us about.” Marquis kneeled. “Here it is. I think.” Marquis motioned to me. “Looks like more of tear than a hole.” Someone had cut a straight line about as long as a skateboard through the silver chain-linked fence from the bottom up. Marquis grabbed the bottom of the cut and stretched the fence apart as far as he could.

  “How are we supposed get through that?” I asked, still flat on my back.

  “I don’t know.” Marquis studied the hole. “I guess we’ll crawl through on our bellies. Are you ready?”

  “Give me a second to catch my breath.” I sat up.

  A whistle blasted.

  “Oh, no.” Marquis looked over his shoulder. “Here comes the football team.” Marquis hit the ground like a bomb was about to go off. “I knew we’d get caught.”

  CHAPTER 10

  NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTE

  “Zack, what are we going to do?”

  “Calm down, Marquis.” I sat up and slipped my backpack straps off each shoulder. “We’re going to get through this fence.” I pushed my black backpack through the hole, careful not to snag it on jagged edges. The cut metal links were like sharks’ teeth.

  Marquis, still on his knees, grabbed both sides of the hole and spread them apart. I lay down right in front of the opening.

  “Okay, here I go.” I slithered through headfirst on my belly like some kind of middle school snake. The chain links kept catching on my shirt, and Marquis had to get them loose a few times, but I got through.

  “Zack, we shouldn’t have done this.” He placed his hand on his belly. “My stomach hurts.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  “But where’s Janie?” Marquis looked at
the hole and then back to the school. Hole. School. Hole. School.

  “Your turn.” I looked into Marquis’s eyes through the chain link.

  Marquis took a deep breath, zipped up his jacket, and slid his backpack though the opening. As Marquis’s feet came through the hole, Janie came stomping down the hill.

  I looked at Janie through the fence. “Janie, have you ever gotten through this hole before?”

  “Nope.” She slipped off her backpack. “Why?”

  “Just curious.” I looked at the hole and back at Janie.

  “Pass me your bag,” I said. I grabbed and pulled while Marquis held the fence apart. “Man, what have you got in this thing, Janie?”

  “Supplies.”

  Marquis and I held the fence as far apart as we could. Janie went belly down and did this half inchworm, half ninja move through the hole in the fence. She moved like the star of a YouTube video.

  She stood up and brushed the grass off her pants. “‘My ninja skills are sweet.’ Big Hero 6, two thousand fourteen.”

  Stunned, Marquis and I were speechless.

  “Follow me.” Janie walked to the curb.

  Marquis and I looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.

  “The first bus stop is up here on Valley Hi,” Janie said, studying the directions on her white piece of paper.

  We crossed the street to the bus stop. The sign looked like a metal lollipop on the end of a pole.

  Marquis craned his neck to look up and down the street. Janie whipped out her map to study it again. I moved behind her, peering over her shoulder.

  The map crinkled as Janie folded it closed, stuffing it in her front pocket. “I’ve got this, Zack!”

  “I’m just …”

  “Ah tuh tuh tuh,” Janie shut me down. “I’m in charge of the directions.”

  “But—”

  “TUH!” She jerked her shush finger up in front her mouth. “Don’t speak! Marquis will watch for the bus, and you get the change ready: seventy-five cents each.” She shoved some change in my hands. “And I am Madame Bustamante, the keeper of the map.”