Dumb Luck

by Lesley Choyce

  Later that day, I had a text message from Chelsea, which rather surprised me. THANKS FOR THE MOVIE. WANNA COME OVER TONIGHT?

  I wondered why she was asking. She didn’t seem to have had that great of a time. Neither had I. But, if Taylor was right, our date had generated buzz. Maybe Chelsea liked that fact. But I’m not sure I did.

  I didn’t text back.

  I started poking through my e-mails. As usual, I had more than I was willing to read. Pretty soon it would be time to just delete them all, get a new e-mail address and tell almost no one. But I couldn’t help but realize it had been a long time since I’d heard from Kayla.

  A couple of shots of whiskey later, I discovered this e-mail:

  Hi Brandon,

  I’m attaching a photo of my dog, Larkin. Larkin is twelve years old and so am I. The vet says that Larkin needs an operation because of cancer and if he doesn’t get it he will die. My mom and dad say we can’t afford it and that Larkin is an old dog and we should have him put to sleep.

  I know you don’t know me but I saw you on TV a while back. And I found your e-mail address so I’m writing. I think they said it would cost about $3,000. The vet says that he’s sorry that it’s so expensive.

  I guess you can figure out that I’m writing to you to ask for the money. Sorry about that. I’m really sorry. I just thought I’d try. Attached is a picture of Larkin.

  Sincerely,

  Martin Blake

  Martin included his phone number and his address. And a photo of Larkin, a rather healthy-looking collie.

  I’d read plenty of e-mails and letters requesting money but this one hit me like a ton of bricks. A kid and his dog. How did I know it wasn’t a scam? I was about to just ignore it when I changed my mind. Thinking about that kid and his dog really got to me. I dialed the number and a kid answered.

  “Martin?”

  “Yeah”

  “It’s Brandon.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. How’s Larkin?”

  “About the same.”

  “If I send you the money, you’ll explain it all to your parents and they’ll have the operation.”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “I’m gonna mail you a check, okay?”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Just don’t let your parents tell a lot of people. Just get the operation for Larkin and make sure he gets better.”

  “Okay.”

  “Take it easy, dude.”

  “Thanks. Thanks so much.”

  And that was my good deed for the day. I wrote a check and put it in an envelope to be mailed in the morning. I felt good about it.

  For about ten minutes.

  Then I started looking at the other requests that had come in. Mostly people looking for money to get someone in their family or themselves out of some kind of a mess. Some of them I think were bullshit. Some were stupid. And some were just plain sad and real. What if I started writing more checks? What if I decided I could help out at least some of them? How would I pick which ones to help?

  And once I got started, wouldn’t there be more and more? I’d be playing God. Help this one. Let that one suffer.

  I kept scrolling through my e-mails but then noticed I had a new text message on my phone. I’d kept my new cell phone number pretty restricted. It wasn’t who I expected. It wasn’t Taylor. It was Kayla. I’d sent her my new number a long while back but hadn’t heard from her at all.

  BRANDON. CALL ME.

  I called.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Kayla said. “I’m just feeling really alone and I didn’t know who to call.”

  “What can I do to help?” I asked. The truth was that it was great to hear from Kayla again. I’d missed her.

  “I don’t know. Be my friend again, I guess.”

  I was confused when she said this. But she sounded pretty unhappy. She sounded rather lifeless and that wasn’t like her at all. I was suddenly feeling really good that she was asking for my help. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Are you busy?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not really.”

  “Meet me at the coffee shop down the street from you?”

  It was still early. I’d pretend I hadn’t read Chelsea’s message. She wasn’t going to hear from me. But this was Kayla and we had a long history. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  chaptereighteen

  Jo’s was crowded with kids from school. I was getting used to people looking at me when I walked in anywhere. At first it had felt funny, but now I was used to it. Now I was cool about it.

  I saw Kayla sitting at a tiny round table in the back, two cups of coffee on the table. I walked straight toward her, passing by Alexis and a couple of other girls trying to get eye contact with me.

  “I’m buying,” Kayla said as I sat down. “That one’s yours.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I took a sip. It wasn’t coffee. It was hot chocolate.

  Kayla looked awful. She’d been crying. But I wasn’t going to say anything about that.

  “Bring back any memories?” she asked, nodding at the cup.

  I had to think for a minute. Then I closed my eyes and nodded. A smile slipped out of me. “Winter,” I said. “Your kitchen. After sledding on the big hill.”

  “After we’d gone down together on your sled, then kept going out onto the pond.”

  “And went through the ice.”

  “Good thing the water wasn’t deep.”

  I remembered it now like it was yesterday. “But it was bloody cold walking back to your place. Our clothes froze. My pants were like boards. I almost couldn’t walk but you told me to keep moving.”

  “I had to hold onto your arm and pull you. You could be so stubborn sometimes. And so ready to give up.”

  I sipped some more hot chocolate and gave her a quirky look. “Me? Never.” That got a smile out of her at least. I studied her and watched as the smile faded and something else took over.

  “What is it?”

  “Sometimes I just feel so alone in the world.”

  “I think I’ve felt that way, too.”

  “But not like what I feel.”

  I shook my head. I could see from the look of fear in her eyes that this was something much worse than what I had ever felt.

  She sipped her hot chocolate and looked around the room in a paranoid way. “But what I feel can get pretty serious. I just want to stay in my room and not leave. Sometimes it lasts for days. I never told you. I always kept it hidden.”

  It was starting to sink in.

  “It’s like everything out there in the world scares me. It’s a lonely, isolated place I go to, and sometimes have a hard time finding my way back. Especially now.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because I don’t have you to pull me back up.”

  “But I don’t remember ever really doing anything to help.”

  “But you were there.”

  I started to say something almost cruel. I was going to say that she was the one who had turned against me. She was the one who got mad because I had new friends. Instead, I sat there feeling stunned.

  “Most people who have never felt this way don’t understand.”

  “I think I’ve been there before. I used to want to hide from a lot of things.”

  “Not like this. All I want to do is sleep. I don’t want to get up in the morning. Nothing seems worth doing. I stay in bed and sleep. Nothing else seems to help. If I do get out of the house or go to school, I feel anxious and I still feel like I’m all alone in the world.”

  “But you were never like this when we hung out together.” I was finally starting to see how bad things must be for her. And how little I understood who she really was.

>   “Sometimes I’d hide it. But usually if I was feeling crappy, you made me feel better. Remember all those times, though, that I said I was sick? Sometimes that was me just hiding from the world.”

  “And now?”

  “Now it’s bad. And I don’t know how to snap me out of it.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone was walking toward us. It was Alexis, the girl Taylor thought was too smart for me.

  “Hi, Brandon,” she said to me.

  “Hi.”

  “I like that shirt,” Alexis said.

  “Thanks.” I forgot I had on the clothes Taylor had picked out for me. My new look. Brandon, the cool one, the fashion guy. Brandon, the millionaire playboy.

  “You two want to join us?” Alexis nodded to the table where she’d been sitting with a couple of other girls.

  I looked at Kayla. She looked downright scared and like she was about to cry.

  “Not right now,” I said. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Cool,” Alexis said. “See you in school.”

  “Come on,” I said to Kayla. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As we left, I hate to admit it, but I knew what those girls at the table were thinking. What is he doing with her?

  Kayla seemed to be a little less uptight as we walked around town, the streetlights shining down through the leaves of the trees.

  “What can I do to help?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure you can. The old Brandon needed me as a friend. The new one doesn’t. I guess I needed to be needed.”

  “I’m still the old Brandon,” I said.

  “No, you’re not. You’ve been taken over by your girlfriend, Taylor.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I said. “But she is my friend.”

  “You think she’d be your friend if you didn’t have money?”

  I didn’t have to answer that. “Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you. Maybe you need to see a counselor or something. I could pay for it.”

  “I’ve seen a shrink a few times. It hasn’t helped. He wanted to put me on medication and I read about the side effects. I don’t want to do that.”

  “What can I do then? Just let me know.”

  “I have an idea. Follow me.”

  So I followed her and we walked in silence down the sidewalks until we came to the park. We walked out onto the dewy wet grass until we came to a place that was very familiar, even on this dark night.

  “I don’t know about this,” I said.

  “We won’t go very high, I promise.”

  She knew I was nervous about climbing up into a tree after my fall. But I followed her lead as she climbed up from branch to branch of a big old oak tree. She sat down on a really sturdy limb and I sat down beside her. “I feel better now,” she said. And we sat in silence as a very full moon rose in the sky before us and I put my arm around her and gave her a hug.

  Kayla seemed much better when I walked her home. “Sorry about being mean to you before,” she said.

  “It’s okay.”

  “And you don’t have to hang out with me at school. Just be there for me once in a while.”

  “But I’ll hang out with you. Like before.”

  “No. Taylor will be there. And some of those friends of hers like Alexis. And Chelsea. I couldn’t take that.” Oh, yeah. Chelsea. Alexis would tell Chelsea that she saw me at Jo’s with Kayla after I didn’t take Chelsea up on her invitation. That would go over well.

  “They’re not that bad.”

  “I just couldn’t be part of that crowd. I’ll be fine.”

  Before I said goodbye, I told her about Martin and about his dog, Larkin.

  “That’s sad,” she said. “But good. Good that you offered to help. I’m just not sure you can fix everything with money, though.”

  As I walked home, I realized she was talking about herself. How had I missed the fact that Kayla was so fragile? How could I be so clueless? But what was I supposed to do? Ditch Taylor? No way. I liked having cute girls make a fuss over me.

  At home, I took a couple of sips from my bottle and checked out a whack of e-mails in my inbox. If one looked like it was from a girl and if there was a photo attached, I opened it. If I really liked what I saw, I sometimes answered. It was like some kind of weird game, communicating with beautiful young women who I didn’t know. But I liked being the center of attention. And I liked that I could have a date with any one of them if I decided to. How lucky could you get?

  chapternineteen

  “Chelsea’s mad at you,” Taylor said, greeting me like she was my bodyguard as I got off the bus. “And John Gardner has an editorial in the school paper about greed, gambling, and—you guessed it—you.”

  “Wow.” I said. “I have enemies. What about Grant Freeman?”

  “No. Grant wants to be your friend now. He told me.” It was just like Taylor to be on top of whatever was going on at school, whether it was her business or not. “I’d steer clear of him, though. Just be polite. He’s probably just trying to use you.”

  “Use me for what?”

  “Social climbing?”

  “What?”

  “Well, the high school version of social climbing. How was your date with Kayla?”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  “You could do much better than her, you know.”

  “Better? As in my own social climbing?” Even saying that term seemed very odd. From tree climbing to social climbing. I wondered which was more dangerous. And I wondered what right she had to be saying this. I wasn’t about to let anyone tell me who I could be seen with. I was about to say that to her but she cut me off.

  “You should do something that will blow everyone’s mind,” Taylor said. “Something audacious.”

  “You’ll have to tell me what audacious means.”

  “Cheeky. Outrageous. Expensive.” Taylor took my arm and walked me inside the school. Yes, as everyone watched.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Just so people will talk.”

  “They’re already talking. They notice I look different—thanks to you. Act different.”

  “But you need to take it up a notch.”

  “I could arrive at school in a limo. A black limo.”

  “Good start. But it should be more creative than that. The limo thing has been done.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “Me, too. You’re making my last year in high school so much more interesting.”

  Which, of course, reminded me that it wasn’t my last year in high school. Having failed a year, I had one more to go.

  Later in the day, during the history test, my mood started to darken as I realized I had not done the readings and I’d paid little attention in class and, at the end of the hour, I was handing in a blank piece of paper. Another F that would not look good. In the past, I had occasionally struggled and earned Ds and been given gifts of a C or higher by some teachers. But lately, I had lost all interest in schoolwork.

  Mr. Poirier must have taken a look at my test soon after I handed it in because, before the day was over, I was being summoned back to Mr. Carver’s office. He was not a happy camper.

  “Brandon,” he said, holding up the history test with my name on it. “What is this?”

  “A test,” I said.

  “Your test. Where are the answers?”

  I shrugged.

  “I took the liberty to check in with your other teachers.”

  “And?”

  “Ds and Fs. This does not look good.”

  “I guess I’ve been distracted.”

  “To that I would add preoccupied, bemused, negligent, indifferent, lackadaisical, cavalier, derelict, slothful, and careless.”

  “That’s a long list.”

  “Boy wins thre
e million dollars. Boy stops doing schoolwork. Boy flunks out of school.”

  “Is that what’s going to happen?”

  “If you don’t get straightened out.”

  “But I don’t think I really need school.”

  “You’ve said this before. And I don’t know much about rich people, but it seems to me there are two kinds. Smart rich people and stupid rich people. No, let me not be so crass. There are actively intelligent rich people and intellectually challenged rich people.”

  “Seems to me that people are either born with brains or they aren’t. I was never one of those kids with much in the way of brains.”

  “It’s not just what you’re born with. It’s how you use your brain. Now, you could use yours—or at least part of it—to do your schoolwork. I know that doesn’t sound all that exciting, compared to life in the fast lane. But it will pay off. The smart rich people hang onto their money and even make more. But the ones who don’t use their brain tend to lose the money—or, worse yet, it gets them into trouble.”

  “Listen, Mr. Carver, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m seriously thinking of quitting school,” I blurted out.

  Carver’s eyes widened. He looked not only shocked but angry. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say yet.”

  “Why should it matter to you?”

  “It matters. I don’t like to see talent wasted.”

  “What talent?”

  “Everyone has talent. I don’t know what yours is, but it’s there, waiting to be developed.”

  “Look,” I said, “I’ve had one good bit of luck in my life. And I’m going to capitalize on it.”

  “Big word. Capitalize.”

  It was a word my father often used. “I know what you’ve been trying to say to me about luck and lotteries and all that money-is-the-root-of-all-evil routine. But those are your opinions, not mine.”

  He looked like he was about to jump across the desk and grab me by the throat. I was almost scared but I was also getting angry. I felt my heart pounding and I was breathing hard. I felt like he was pushing me hard and I didn’t like it. He let out a sigh. “Go back to class,” he said, sounding defeated. “Or don’t go back to class, if you choose. Just think about it, please. Use your brain.”