Bad Luck

by Pseudonymous Bosch

Mira shook her head in exaggerated amazement. “O-M-G. You did! You thought we had crushes on you.”

  They laughed harder and harder until they both were doubled over.

  “I don’t know—I didn’t really—it’s just—” Clay stammered. “That’s what they said.” He pointed lamely at their friends.

  Mira shook her head in disgust. “So you guys don’t think girls have anything to fight about besides a boy?”

  Leira pointed to Jonah. “You of all people should know better. You have two moms! They’re going to be so mad when I tell them how sexist you are.”

  “Please don’t,” said Jonah nervously.

  “So, what were you guys really fighting about, then?” said Clay, still unable to look them in the eye.

  “I’ll tell you what we’ve been fighting about—her,” said Mira, indicating her sister. “She never includes me in any of the fun stuff.”

  “You mean the dangerous stuff,” said Leira.

  “Same difference,” said Mira. “Just because I like to wear dresses, you think I’m useless and can’t be trusted. You’re as bad as the boys are!”

  “That is so not true!”

  “Fine, then let me go with you! No, forget that. I mean, watch me go with you.”

  “Fine. I’m not stopping you.”

  “Fine,” said Mira.

  She stepped into the teepee—then promptly fell on her face.

  As did all the others as soon as they got inside. The teepee was so tippy it was nearly impossible for anyone to stand up.

  In other respects, Mr. Bailey’s mobile summer home was surprisingly accommodating; it proved to be much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, and despite the added weight, it had no trouble rising in the air after everyone had settled in.

  Navigation was another matter.

  Clay had been in the teepee only once before—when Mr. Bailey flew him over Earth Ranch and introduced him to the concept of the Other Side—but that was one more time than the others had been in the teepee, so it fell to him to steer the unlikely canvas aircraft. Just as he remembered, there was a campfire stove in the middle that filled the teepee with warm air in the manner of a hot-air balloon, and there were ropes and pulleys that adjusted the sides of the teepee as if they were sails on a sailboat. The problem was that whenever he pulled on a rope, too much hot air was released and the teepee started to plummet. And when he refilled it with hot air, the sides of the teepee ballooned outward and no longer caught the wind the way they were supposed to.

  After a couple of heart-stopping drops and a few dizzying spins, Clay thought he was maybe, possibly, perhaps beginning to have a handle on steering the teepee. But then, checking on the stove, he accidentally let a rope slip out of his hands and—

  “Aaaaaaah!”

  —the teepee turned on its side. Screaming, they all slammed into one another and had to grab fistfuls of canvas to avoid sliding out.

  Somehow, among the tangled limbs and flying debris, Clay found the loose rope and managed to pull on it. The teepee righted itself just in time.

  “Well, that was fun!” said Mira, determinedly cheerful, though it was clear from her sweaty forehead that she’d been as frightened as everyone else. “Gee, sis, you look kind of ill. Not letting a little shake get to you, are you?”

  “The only thing getting to me is you,” her sister grumbled.

  “Maybe if I stand, it’ll be better?” said Clay when he could at last catch a breath.

  Kwan snorted. “Anything would be better.”

  As I’ve already noted, standing was very difficult. But Clay had an innate sense of balance from his years of skateboarding, and after a couple of false starts, he was able to remain standing. This turned out to be the trick to successfully steering the teepee. Clay had better access to the ropes, and he could rely on his skateboarder instincts to help keep the teepee steady.

  A smile crept onto his face. “You know, this thing is actually kinda awesome.”

  “Just don’t get too confident!” warned Leira. “Stay scared so you pay attention to what you’re doing.”

  “So what’s our plan?” Pablo asked.

  “You mean the plan of how seven kids are going to raid a giant cruise ship and spring a fire-breathing dragon that’s caged in a shipping container and protected by dozens of armed guards?” said Kwan. “That plan?”

  “Yeah,” said Pablo. “That plan.”

  Kwan shrugged. “No idea. Clay is the captain today, not me, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  They all looked at Clay. He looked back at them.

  Okay, he thought, I can do this. I have to do this.

  “Brett, when you saw the container on the ship, where was it?” he asked. “You think they’ll put it back there—with the dragon in it, I mean?”

  Brett cleared his throat. (He wasn’t normally so nervous about speaking. Then again, he wasn’t normally listened to.) “Probably—I doubt they’d leave it out on the deck for everyone to see. It was in this big cargo-holding area in the middle of the ship. The problem is, to get in there, you need an all-access ID card.”

  “Yeah, that’s where the container is—in the cargo hold,” murmured Jonah, his eyes closed.

  Brett stared at him. “Does he have X-ray vision, or does he see into the future?”

  “I don’t know,” said Clay. “Both?”

  Brett shook his head. “You’re all like superheroes—it’s ridiculous! When I get home, I’m getting you a TV deal.”

  “No!” the others said in chorus.

  “Everything here is on the down low, remember?” said Pablo.

  Jonah nodded. “Earth Ranch, magic, it’s all secret.”

  Brett shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

  Kwan scratched his head. “Really? You think we could do TV? How much cash do you think we’d get?”

  Leira poked him. “Kwan!”

  “Kidding!” said Kwan. “Sorry. Jeez, can’t a man dream a little?”

  Pablo snapped his fingers at them. “Can we be serious for a second, guys?” He turned to Brett. “So where do we get that all-access pass?”

  “I had one, but it’s at the bottom of the ocean now, which isn’t very helpful, is it?” said Brett. “Let’s see… I know some of the ship security staff have them.”

  “Perf,” said Leira. “Just get me near one of those guys, and I’ll take it from there.”

  Brett nodded. “I think I can do that.”

  “Okay,” said Kwan. “Say we get that pass, and we get into the cargo hold, and say the container’s there, and let’s even say the dragon is there—then what happens?”

  Silence. Nobody had an answer.

  “How about we just wing it?” said Clay finally. “I have a feeling that once I’m in the room with Ariella—well, I just think I’ll know what to do.”

  The book was in his backpack, but when was he going to have time to read it?

  “Okay, then, that settles it,” said Leira. “We’ll wing it.”

  “Awesome,” said Pablo.

  “Cool,” agreed Jonah.

  “I love improv!” said Mira. “That’s when the best stuff happens.”

  Kwan shrugged. “I guess it’s unanimous. Improv it is.”

  The campers had long suspected that the comings and goings of the vog on Price Island were not wholly accidents of nature but rather responses to spells laid years ago. Often the vog seemed to descend for a specific reason—when something was on the verge of being found that wasn’t supposed to be found, for example. Or, like today, when someone had need of the vog for cover.

  Almost as soon as they’d boarded the teepee, a thick layer of vog had started rolling in, as if in answer to their request. Clay had never before been so grateful for the gray, smoky air. Even with a dragon on board the cruise ship, a flying teepee was bound to attract attention. The vog would hide it… for a while.

  And yet, flying in the vog meant flying blind.

  Thankfully, they had Jonah to g
uide them.

  “Slow down—the ship’s right ahead of us,” he said to Clay. “We want to get above it, right? Not overshoot it altogether.”

  “Seriously, you’re like human radar,” said Brett. “Are you sure you don’t want to do TV?”

  “What about the ship’s radar?” Mira asked. “Won’t it detect us?”

  “I doubt they’re on the lookout for teepees,” said Leira. “For all they know, we’re just some random bird flying by.”

  Mira laughed. “Yeah, a big, triangular random bird. I bet they see lots of those.”

  “Anyway, what are they going to do, shoot antiaircraft missiles at us?” said Pablo. “You know I’m the most paranoid guy around, but seriously, it’s a cruise ship, not a nuclear sub.”

  Before they knew it, they were hovering above the Imperial Conquest. They slowly circled the ship while Jonah peered into the vog, describing what he saw. Flying next to them, a flock of very determined seagulls kept careful watch over the ship’s balconies, waiting for somebody to leave a half-eaten tray of food.

  “Jeez, there are a lot of people down there,” said Jonah. He shivered. “I don’t know why, but I suddenly have a bad feeling about that ship.”

  Pablo raised an eyebrow. “Like it’s going to make us sick?”

  “Like it’s going to make us sink,” said Jonah darkly.

  “Hey, Jonah, can you see the big door at the back of the ship—looks like a giant garage door?” said Brett. “That’s where they load stuff into the cargo room.”

  “Yeah, I see it, but we can’t go in that way,” said Jonah as Clay maneuvered the teepee for him. “There’s, like, a dozen of your dad’s guys hanging around back there.”

  “Right. We go in the way I did before—through the kitchen,” said Brett. “That big door is our way out.”

  “How’re we going to land with so many people on deck?” said Leira. “That’s the question.”

  “Don’t you guys have invisibility cloaks or something?” asked Brett.

  The others looked at him.

  “Okay, guess not.”

  “What we need is a distraction,” said Kwan. “Pablo, what you got?”

  Pablo looked down at the ship. The vog was starting to dissipate, and now they could see the passengers moving around. “See that swimming pool? Clay, I need you to get me straight over it.… Right. Now a little lower. But don’t let anyone see us!”

  “How can I control that?” said Clay.

  “Just do it.”

  When he was satisfied that they were in the right position, Pablo reached into his pocket. “Watch this, dudes—”

  He stuck his hand out of the teepee and poured a stream of powder down into the pool. For a second, nothing happened.

  Then the pool started churning and foaming like an oversized Jacuzzi. Suddenly, it erupted in a big geyser that sprayed water fifty feet in the air and all over the Lido Deck. Everyone on the deck—passengers and crew alike—ran for cover.

  “Wow, what did you put in there?” asked Mira.

  Clay laughed. “Same thing he put in my drink this morning, I bet.”

  “But that’s a swimming pool down there, not a glass of juice,” said Leira.

  Pablo grinned. “Okay, so maybe I mixed in a few more things to increase the effect.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  NOW YOU SEE IT,

  NOW YOU DON’T

  Clay parked the teepee behind the ship’s giant climbing wall.

  It was a secluded spot, but even so, he didn’t want to risk leaving the teepee there for more than a minute. After they’d all disembarked, he set the camping stove burner to high and sent the teepee sailing up into the clouds. He had no idea how to retrieve it, but he had a feeling that if they were successful, they would find another way back to the island. And if they weren’t successful, well, they might not be going back to the island at all.

  They had made it aboard the ship; that was the main thing.

  No longer erupting, the swimming pool was back to normal—minus about half its water. As dazed attendants refilled the pool and mopped the deck, impatient swimmers and sunbathers stood around, eating pizza and waiting for the pool to reopen.

  “Now You See Him, Now You Don’t!… And now you do! If you didn’t catch the last magic show, you’re in luck because there’s another one in five minutes,” said an upbeat male voice over the intercom. “Get yourself over to the Shooting Stars Nightclub and Casino for the show of a lifetime.”

  Immediately, people started heading indoors.

  “Follow them,” said Brett. “There will be a security guy with a pass there, for sure,” he added to Leira in a whisper.

  Spreading out in order not to call attention to themselves, the campers joined the crush of cruisers going downstairs. It was so crowded they didn’t realize they’d reached the Shooting Stars Nightclub and Casino until they were right in front of it, part of the wide, chaotic queue assembled for the next magic show. Meanwhile, other passengers were exiting the nightclub. Alas, judging from the stray bits of conversation that the kids could overhear, these people weren’t particularly happy with the show they had just seen.

  “Is that what they’re calling magic nowadays?” “My dog does a better job of making a rabbit disappear.” “I’m telling you, he wouldn’t last a day in Vegas!” “Does he think the sunglasses make him look cool?”

  But perhaps it was just that the complainers were louder than the happy customers. (You know how that is, right?) Swept up in the crowd, our friends were about to enter the nightclub when Brett was stopped by a man standing outside the door.

  “Hey, aren’t you—? What are you doing here?”

  Uh-oh. It was one of Brett’s father’s men, now working as a bouncer for the nightclub.

  “I don’t know who you think I am,” said Brett calmly. “But I’m a passenger on this ship, and my friends and I would like to see the magic show now.”

  They all nodded. “It’s about to start!” “Let us in, please.”

  The bouncer looked at Brett suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not Brett junior? You better show me your ID right now or I’m taking you straight to Mr. Perry!”

  He nodded at Brett’s friends. “That goes for all of you.”

  Before anybody else could respond, Mira yelled, “You’re mean!” and started crying hysterically. As tears poured down her cheeks, years seemed to fall off her face.

  In seconds, she became a much younger girl—a ten-year-old version of her true self. (And yet if you looked closely, her face hadn’t changed at all, only her expression and her movements.)

  “You’re scaring me!” she shouted. “I want my mommy!”

  As the bouncer stared, dumbfounded by her transformation, other adults gathered around Mira protectively.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” “Did that man hurt you?”

  “How dare you scare a little girl like that!” said an angry woman to the bouncer. “Who’s your manager? I want to speak to your boss right away.”

  While the bouncer tried to defend himself, Mira cried even louder.

  Taking advantage of the commotion, her friends ducked inside the nightclub.

  “Did you get his card?” Kwan whispered to Leira.

  She shook her head. “No time.”

  Kwan nodded. “Okay, I’m on it—”

  As soon as they were gone, Mira stopped crying.

  “Never mind, I feel better,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I’m going to go find my mommy now.”

  She marched off in the direction the others had gone, only to be stopped by a crew member when she got to the roped-off casino area.

  “Sorry, miss. The casino is eighteen and over only.”

  Mira tossed her long red hair out of her eyes and looked at the crew member. The ten-year-old had vanished; she now had the face of an adult woman.

  “I know!” she said, laughing in a decidedly grown-up fashion. “Thank you for the compliment, but I’m twe
nty-seven years old.”

  “Oh, sorry, I thought—never mind,” said the crew member, taken aback. “Please enter.”

  Mira found the others gathered around a blackjack table, where Kwan was already sitting behind a big pile of gambling tokens, or chips, as they are known.

  “See, I can be helpful sometimes,” Mira whispered in her sister’s ear.

  “Yeah, I guess all that practice fake-crying to get Dad’s attention comes in handy now and then,” said Leira.

  Mira glared.

  Leira smiled. “Okay, okay, it was cool what you did, I admit it.”

  On the table in front of Kwan was a jack of hearts and an eight of spades. “Hit me,” he said, slapping the cards with his hand.

  “Are you sure?” the dealer asked skeptically. “Usually people stand when they have eighteen.”

  “You bet I’m sure, Pretty Lady.”

  The dealer gave him a look. “You’ve got chutzpah, kid, I’ll give you that. But if you call me that again, I’ll have you out on your ear.”*

  She pulled a card from the “shoe” and put a three of clubs on the table.

  Her eyes widened. 3 + 18 = 21. Blackjack.

  Kwan grinned and pumped his fist. “How ’bout I call you Lady Luck instead?”

  He was just gathering his chips into one big mound when he spied a burly man in a dark suit—a casino security officer—walking toward them.

  Kwan winked at his friends. Bingo.

  “How’s it going?” asked the security officer when he reached the table. “Having fun?”

  “Definitely,” said Kwan. “It’s going awesome! Look how much money I’ve already made!”

  “Not counting cards, are you?”

  “Why? What do you care?” Kwan scoffed. “We’re not in Vegas.”

  “It’s illegal wherever you are.” The security officer frowned. “How old are you, anyway?”

  While they were speaking, Leira had brushed casually against the security officer. She gave Kwan a thumbs-up, quickly flashed a shiny ID card, and then disappeared into the crowd.

  “You know what?” said Kwan. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to play anymore.”

  “Good,” said the security officer, confused. “Then beat it.”