Bad Luck Girl

by Sarah Zettel

  I didn’t quite like the slow way Jack mouthed the word permanent, as he pulled up a chair with the rest of us and took the sandwich Mama handed him. Or the way he sat quiet through the rest of the meal. Or even the way he offered to take all the wrappers and empty paper cartons out to the trash. But most of all, I didn’t like the way he didn’t come back.

  Papa had declared we were to all spend the evening resting, and Mama agreed. He’d managed to conjure a couple of books from somewhere, and now my parents sat together on the sofa, reading over each other’s shoulders, just being close. I should have been glad to see it. And if Jack had been there, I think I would have.

  I excused myself, saying I needed to go to the bathroom. There was just one for the entire building, and it was down the dingy hallway next to the door that let out onto the porch. Each of the three floors had its own back porch. Maybe it was supposed to be someplace you could get fresh air and sun, but it would fail pretty miserably at both, because all three porches were stacked right on top of each other like pancakes. So here in the middle, there wouldn’t be any sun getting through, and there wasn’t any fresh air in this part of the city anyhow.

  Jack was sitting on the porch railing with his elbow hooked around the post. He did it so easily, I knew he’d sat like this for hours, probably with a book in his hands, like he did now. The torn screen door squeaked when I pushed on it, but Jack didn’t turn around. He just stayed bent over his notebook, slowly turning the pages. The only light was the dim lamplight filtering through the curtains, and the lights of the barges slogging their way up the river, so I wasn’t sure he could actually read anything. Maybe he just wanted to touch the pages, to remember that he had things to write about, that he’d been somewhere else and there was still somewhere else to go. Or maybe he wanted an excuse not to look at me.

  I walked across the warped boards to stand beside him. I knew he heard me, but he didn’t look up. I swung my legs over the rail so I was sitting on it like I would a fence rail back home. I looked down into the dark alley for a little while. Then I looked up. The smoke and clouds had cleared just enough overhead to show the bleary face of the moon. Cars roared and honked. Somebody down in the street shouted and somebody else cussed. The train Jack called the El rattled in the distance, flashing silver light up over the tenement roofs. A hot breeze blew hard. The tar paper rattled on the roof above us and the old building creaked uneasily in answer.

  It was a long time before Jack closed his notebook. He still didn’t look at me. He stared over the ash piles toward the river. “I never should have brought you here,” he said.

  “There wasn’t anyplace else to go.”

  Jack’s jaw had hardened, and right then he looked years older than he should have. In fact, he looked a lot like Ben.

  “You did something to them,” he said flatly. “You did something to Ben and Simon, and you didn’t tell me.”

  “We didn’t have a choice, Jack, and besides …”

  “Besides nothing! Your old man just went and magicked them and you didn’t do anything to stop it! You didn’t even bother to tell me!” His voice was tight and hard as his jaw. It would have been a shout, but Jack knew how thin the walls were, and that there were people on the other side listening. So he kept the words low, but they were deadly sharp all the same.

  “You didn’t need me to tell you. You saw it for yourself.”

  “Yeah, I did, and maybe you should remember that. Or are you going to take back that wish so I won’t find out anything else I’m not supposed to?”

  His words slapped me hard enough to knock any answer right out of me. The one thing I’d been able to count on for this whole long disaster of an adventure was Jack, and now he’d stopped trusting me. Over one stupid thing.

  Worse than that, though, was how my magic stirred under my skin, like it was woken up by my anger. You can make him understand, it told me. It would be easy. You know how. I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody else knowing I’d done it either, not even Papa or Mama. Jack wouldn’t even know himself.

  I told my magic to put a sock in it, but that took a lot longer than it should have.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I should have done something, you’re right. But Papa was afraid they might decide to kick us out after all, or ask for more money.” I’d felt that. I was sure of it when we were working the spell. That was why we did it. It was part of the protection. Wasn’t it?

  “Oh, yeah?” Jack’s voice dropped even lower. “And what’s he gonna decide to do if I don’t behave right?”

  “You don’t … you don’t think I’d ever let anything happen to you, do you?”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  He meant Papa might. “You can’t really think that,” I said, but what I really meant was I didn’t want to think that. I didn’t want to remember the soft, satisfied tone in Papa’s voice after we’d worked the protection spell and the Hollander Brothers had started agreeing with whatever he said. He’d never do anything like that to Jack. I wouldn’t let him. Ever.

  Jack shrugged and opened his notebook again, turning over another page. He pulled out his pencil and started writing slowly, carefully, and very thoroughly, not paying any attention to me. We sat there, with the traffic noises filling the world around us. A dog barked somewhere and I winced. It reminded me too much of Mimi, and all at once my thoughts were off and running, like they didn’t want to be here, where Jack was so angry. Where was the pack now? I had no idea where I’d sent them, or even how far. Were they out there someplace, trying to pick up our scent for the Seelie king? Where was the king? That old woman said she’d sent him word. Was Papa’s protection enough to hide us from him? What about when we had to leave? And what about Uncle Shake, with his pale friends and their spears and swords? And then there was my grandmother on the other side of the mirror. She’d said there was someone coming for her, and all I could think was that he might just as soon be coming for us. What would we do then?

  And what was I going to do if Jack stopped talking to me for good?

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, to Jack, to the city, to my own miserable runaway thoughts. “I keep trying and things just keep getting worse. I get away from the Hoppers and the vigilantes, but I kill Shimmy. I find my parents, but I kill Ivy. I want to save those men in the Hooverville, but I kill Stripling. I want us to be safe and I …” I couldn’t go any further. I didn’t know what I’d done. I just knew I couldn’t stand how Jack wouldn’t even look at me. “They’re right. I am bad luck.”

  Jack’s pencil went still on the page. “No. You’re not.” He said it slowly, like he’d just made up his mind. “None of this is your fault.”

  “It feels like it. Like I should’ve known …”

  “What?” He scooted toward me along the rail until we were so close our shoulders rubbed together. “You should’ve known you’re a fairy princess? Or that the rest of the fairies would be falling all over themselves to get hold of you because you’ve got extra-special powers? Or maybe you should have known the Seelie king would be ready to sacrifice his own daughter to get to you?”

  “No, I mean … I don’t know what I mean.” I had to hold tight to that railing to keep from wobbling, or leaning any closer to Jack than I already was.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he told me. “We’ve figured everything else out, haven’t we?”

  “Yeah, we have.”

  We were quiet again after that, but it was the comfortable kind of quiet we’d shared before. What we’d said, and what I’d done, it wasn’t forgotten, but we could let it be for now.

  A strange thought struck me. “Jack, what day is it?”

  “Ummm … the sixteenth, I think. Why?”

  “Nothing.” I felt myself blush. Of all the stupid little things to think about now, this had to be the stupidest, and the smallest.

  “Nuh-uh. You’re not getting away with that.” He nudged his shoulder against mine. “What?”

  “I … It’s dumb. It�
�s just, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

  “Birthday?” The word straightened Jack up.

  “What are you so surprised about? I did get born, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I just … yowza.” He scrubbed his head and looked at me again. “Your birthday? That makes you, what? Fifteen?”

  I nodded.

  “Gosh. Happy birthday, Callie.” Jack smiled, and this time it was one of his genuine hundred-watt smiles. I was so relieved, I could have melted right there, and my cheeks started up with a fresh burning blush.

  Fortunately, Jack wasn’t looking at me right then. He just shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wish I had something …” He stopped. “Wait. Maybe …”

  He swung himself up so he balanced on the rail, and dug his hands into the rafters overhead. After a minute, he gave a grunt that was both surprised and satisfied. When he jumped down, he had a rusty metal cash box in his hand. He popped the lid and I saw what could only have been a kid’s treasure stash—a dime novel with a giant octopus on the cover, a few sticks of petrified chewing gum, a model truck, and a few old coins. He must have been hiding stuff in there since he was little. Jack rummaged through the stash and pulled out a pocket-sized notebook, a lot like the one he carried with him. There was a stub of a silver pencil tucked into the space between the spine and the pages.

  “It’s not much, but, well … happy birthday.” Jack handed me the notebook. He was mumbling, and I had the strange feeling if the light were strong enough, I’d be seeing his cheeks turn at least as red as mine. Could that be right? Could I have just made Jack Holland blush?

  That little question took over my entire brain, and all at once I couldn’t do anything but stand and stare. But then my own blush decided to double down, and I decided it’d be safer to be looking at my present instead. I opened it up at random. The page was covered in tight, smeared penciled words.

  “The square-jawed lawman leveled his trusty six-shooter at the masked bandit’s heart. ‘You hand over the little lady’s purse or I swear by God I’ll …’ ”

  “You don’t have to read that.” Jack riffled the pages. “There’s still a bunch of blank pages at the back. You can use it to make lists, or notes, or you know, stuff like that. I’ll get you something better later. Promise.”

  “No!” I snatched the book away from him. “I don’t want anything else. This is … this is swell, Jack. Thank you. For everything.”

  He was looking down at me, and I was looking up at him. I was past blushing, and past the butterflies and the woodpeckers, even though he reached out and ran his fingers down my braid, just like he had before. It was a soft and gentle feeling and I liked it. He was making up his mind about something. I didn’t want to believe I knew what it was, so I just stood there and felt his fingertips against my braid, and let him think until he was ready to lean just a little closer.

  Somewhere the El rattled down its track again, kicking up another hot wind. A scrap of colored paper caught in the gust tumbled across the gap between the buildings and landed on the porch beside us. The paper rustled, and unfolded, and stood up.

  Jack yanked me backward and we both twisted around to stare.

  It was Touhy.

  11

  What’s a Poor Girl to Do?

  Jack ducked around me, putting himself right between me and the paper girl. She crinkled and folded, making herself into a wrinkled nest of scraps with a plump-cheeked photo looking out.

  “It’s okay.” I laid my hand on Jack’s shoulder as I stepped past him. “At least I think it is. Right … Touhy?”

  “Touhy?” repeated Jack. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “Truce, okay?” Touhy pushed out one hand from her paper nest. Her palm crackled and unfolded to make a white flag on a stick. “I’m just here to talk.”

  “Right.” Jack didn’t move. “Like that other bunch of … of … look, just who are all of you?”

  “We’re the Halfers,” she announced proudly, unfolding herself all the way into her scrap-paper silhouette. “I figured your girl would’ve told you by now.”

  We both ignored that. “What in the heck’s a Halfer?” asked Jack.

  “They’re like me,” I said. “Half fairy.”

  Touhy laughed and crinkled again and her face came up with a cartoon man falling down and slapping his belly.

  “We’re nothing like you, toots. You’ve got yourself a fancy pedigree and parents and a birthday.” She leaned heavy on the word, letting us know she’d been listening in for a while. Which got me blushing all over again. I don’t know about Jack, because there was no way on earth I was going to look at him right now. All of this just made Touhy crinkle some more. “Halfers … we’re part this world, part the other, and part who knows what. Some of us was found, some made, some just … grew.” She spread her arms to show trails of torn billboard ads hanging from her arms and her face changed to a photo of a flower garden with a prize ribbon in the corner. “Your daddy must’ve told you. Bet he called us Undone and everything.”

  “You mean there’ve been … people like you in Chicago this whole time, and I never knew?” said Jack incredulously.

  “Surprise!” The top of Touhy’s head tore off and a shower of confetti spilled out.

  “Cut it out, can’t you?” snapped Jack. “I’m getting seasick!”

  Touhy made a harsh tearing sound I suspected was a laugh. Then she crumpled herself down into a ball, and that ball rolled into the corner of the porch. Slowly, she unfolded herself, and when she did, she had a proper girl’s shape. Her face and hands were paper-bag brown and she wore a little pink dress that looked like it was made of tissue, with black patent-leather shoes and white stockings, and a white ribbon in wavy brown hair. I had a feeling if I’d seen her in full daylight, I would have noticed there was something funny about the way her skin was as wrinkled as her dress, but there in the dark, she could pass for human about as well as I could pass for white.

  “So, what are you doing here?” I asked. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble with Dan Ryan and the others?”

  She shrugged. “Not as much as you will if they catch up with you now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “After your people came charging in like that, you kinda blew any chance you had of making a deal with the council, let alone with Dan Ryan and the others. They’re out for blood now.”

  Jack put his hand under my elbow. “Well, gosh, thanks for the warning.” He started to turn us back to the door. “You can go now.”

  “You ain’t heard my offer yet.”

  “Not interested.” He yanked the screen door open.

  “You always let him do the talking for you?” Touhy rolled her eyes, and I found I’d just about had it with her.

  “You better watch your mouth,” I said, but I shook my elbow out of Jack’s hand when I did. “You’re kind of on your own here.” My magic was stirring again. It wanted something to do, and Touhy was making herself into a terrific target. I suppose that should have worried me, but right then I was busy watching Touhy smirk and settle farther back into her corner.

  “Holy smokes, you really are high court, aren’t you? I’m gonna be sorry I came here.”

  “You got that right,” muttered Jack.

  I gave him a shut-up glare, but he didn’t look like he was ready to go along with it. “Okay,” I said to Touhy. “You got something to say. I’m listening.”

  All at once, Touhy didn’t seem so sure of herself. The wind off the river stirred around us, making her paper shape wobble like she hadn’t quite decided what to do next.

  “You wanna get out of town, right?” she said finally. “We can help you do that, and make sure you’re left alone by the other Halfers once you get where you’re going. But you gotta do something for us.”

  Jack and I moved closer together. “I’m still listening,” I told her.

  “I don’t know how much you heard before, but the courts have been sending in p
eople to raid our camps. They’ve been taking Halfers away, back into the fairy worlds.”

  “What for?” asked Jack.

  She gave that crackling little shrug again. “Considering there’s one of their wars on, our people are either going to be soldiers, or lunch.”

  “Lunch?” repeated Jack.

  Touhy tipped her head toward me. She was going to make me answer that. Because I was high court. “Papa says fairies, full-blood fairies anyway, can feed off the magic of their own kind,” I told Jack. “They can use the feelings from humans too.”

  I watched Jack turn that over in his head a few times. “So that’s what that tree in Los Angeles was doing? It was draining feeling out of those men?”

  “To feed itself, and the Seelie king. Yeah.”

  “When the courts get hungry, they take our people to the fairy lands.” The bitterness in Touhy’s voice was hard enough to cut diamond. “Once we’re there, they can put the whammy on us, and make us obey their orders, or hold us still long enough that they can suck the living right out of us.”

  Jack was looking at me. I didn’t like it. I was sure he was thinking about all the times he’d sent me the magic of his wishes and his feelings. He was thinking about my papa, and how he held on so tight to Mama when he was sick. He was thinking about his brothers too. Shame crawled out from its hiding place under my skin and covered me over.

  “Why do they have to take you back there to do it?” I asked.

  “Because this is our world, same as it is yours,” said Touhy. “While we’re here we’ve got a chance to fight back. Back there … it’s all their world and their magic.”

  They’re weaker than we are, Papa had said. More easily swayed … very ready to be used by anyone stronger. I figured I better not bring that up right now.

  “Dan Ryan figured since they’re so hot on catching you, we could strike a bargain,” Touhy went on. “Trade you to get our own people back. And don’t you go holding it against him too much,” she added quickly. “His father’s one of the ones they took.”