Lucky Little Things

by Janice Erlbaum

  I hate cancer.

  I walked to the bus stop by school to go uptown to Waggytail. I usually have to wait a while for a bus, but today one pulled up to the stop just as I got there, and the door opened right where I was standing, like the driver had stopped personally for me.

  I boarded the bus. As usual, there were no seats, so I stood. But as soon as I grabbed a pole in front of a guy in a seat, the guy got up and walked away. There was no reason for him to get up—we weren’t near the next stop yet—but he left the seat open. So I sat down.

  There was no traffic. And there’s always traffic.

  When I got to Waggytail, the founder, Holly, was practically jumping for joy. She hugged me as soon as I came in and told me the good news.

  “We got the money to expand Waggytail! I never thought the grant I applied for would come through, but we just got the official call! Think how many more dogs we’ll be able to help! And all the lucky people who will get to find their forever friends!”

  “That’s great!”

  I knew how hard Holly and the rest of the staff worked to help dogs like Penguin. Holly’s eyes were filled with tears of joy. Everybody there was so happy, dogs and people alike. In between walking and cleaning cages, volunteers were doing a lot of dancing and whooping and throwing dog toys at each other.

  When we were done for the afternoon, one of the older volunteers had some pizza delivered, and we all sat around with the pups. It was one of the best days I’d ever had at Waggytail.

  I was about to leave when Holly stopped me. “Emma! I was so happy about the grant, I almost forgot to tell you. Lancelot is going to be okay! He lost his leg, but the vet says he’s cancer-free now, and he should have a long, healthy life ahead of him.”

  WHAT?

  I couldn’t believe what Holly was saying. Lancelot was going to be okay?

  “Really?” I could feel myself getting ready to cry. I hoped I would not bawl in front of the other volunteers, especially the two who were near my age. But if Lancelot was going to be okay, I didn’t much care where I bawled or who saw me. All I cared about was that Lancelot was cancer-free.

  Holly smiled and nodded. “Sir Lancelot should be back from the vet this weekend. But he won’t be here long. I know we’ll find somebody terrific to adopt him.”

  I left Waggytail dumbstruck by all the good luck that had happened there. Whether or not it had anything to do with the lucky letter, I was grateful for it. I definitely would have put Lancelot recovers from cancer on my luck list, but after seeing what cancer did to Aunt Jenny, I didn’t think it was possible for Lancelot to recover. Now I’d received a fantastic lucky little thing for free.

  Things were definitely looking up.

  * * *

  I was in a great mood when I got home. I wanted to tell Mom the good news about Lancelot, but she was talking to a client on her earpiece. I texted Savvy to see if she maybe wanted to come over or something, or if I could go over there.

  I tapped out my message and sent it:

  Sup bish.

  Savvy’s reply came right away:

  Go away speddy.

  My heart sank into my stomach. “Speddy,” of course, is short for “special ed.” Which is short for “You are too dumb to walk among us ‘normal’ humans and should be banished to a classroom far, far away.”

  I was surprised to see Savvy use that word, because her mom Ava was a legal advocate for people with disabilities. Savvy didn’t dare use words like “crippled,” “lame,” or “retarded,” even among friends—one time when I was over for dinner, Savvy called something retarded, and Ava hit the roof. “You keep talking that way,” she threatened, “and I will fry you alive and eat you for dinner.”

  Another text came through:

  Sry. That was Tyler being dumb.

  Oh. So Savvy was hanging out with Tyler’s crew, probably at Dakota’s, even though Dakota was absent all day and supposed to be sick. Dakota’s mom had probably let her take a day off from school to handle the agonizing stress of being superior to everyone else.

  It hurt to know that Savvy was hanging out with the love of my life without me, but at least it meant that Go away speddy didn’t come from her. There was some comfort in knowing that my best friend didn’t think I was dumb and want me to go away. Instead, it was the boy I liked who thought I was dumb and wanted me to go away. Improvement, but not by much.

  I imagined sitting so close to Tyler Hoff that he could steal my phone. If he did, I would die instantly, because he’d see all my texts to Savvy about how I was in love with him. I’d liked Tyler since sixth grade—I didn’t even know why anymore. I guess because he was popular and hot and untouchable, and I was used to him being my crush.

  More texts came through, one right after the other:

  ur depressing & boring

  u always have to kill the vibe

  u cry all the time

  u don’t know when ur not wanted

  go away

  WOW. Extra, extra harsh. They disliked me so much, they had to tell me about it in detail. Each text felt like another blow to the gut, and there was no way to tell who was typing and sending them. Dakota, Sierra, Naturi, Tyler, Lewis—they could be brutal. It could even have been Savvy. She could say whatever she wanted and blame it on someone else later—Sorry, Dakota took my phone.

  How was I supposed to respond?

  I texted back:

  LOL.

  I added the “crying from laughing so hard” emoji. That was me. Nope, not crying, just laughing so hard I’m in tears.

  I was on the verge of chucking my phone out the window and watching it smash to bits on the pavement below. Maybe then Mom would get me a new one. No, half the reason she made me carry the cheap one was that I’d lost two phones in a row when I was younger. Smashing this one would only make her say, See? You’re not responsible enough for an expensive new phone.

  “Bloop?” Mom called from the kitchen. “You want to go for a walk?”

  Penguin certainly did. He jumped around at our feet and woofed.

  I didn’t feel like going out, but I didn’t feel like staying home and looking at my phone, either. “Okay,” I said.

  We got our coats on and headed out toward the park. Mom seemed to be in a decent mood for a change. I saw an opening: Maybe I could try making my own luck, as Ms. Engel said.

  “Moop?” (Mom + bloop = Moop.) “Do we have to stay at Grandma’s beach house all summer this year?”

  Mom raised her eyebrows. “That’s an interesting question.”

  I sighed. Again, it’d be great if adults could just give you a simple yes or no. But nothing was simple when it came to Grandma.

  I only had one grandparent, Mom’s mother. I’d never met my father’s parents, and Mom’s dad died before I was born. But my one grandma was more than enough. Maybe even too much.

  I shouldn’t say that. Grandma means well, and she pays for my tuition every year. But Grandma likes to drink cocktails, which is hard for my mom to deal with, what with her own past problems with alcohol. After two or three cocktails, Grandma gets really cranky and critical of everything. I was tired of hearing about my “dusky coloring,” my “wide frame,” and how hairy I am, and how my nose is broad like my father’s, and what a shame it was I didn’t get “the Macintyre cheekbones.” I was also tired of watching Grandma pick on Mom, asking if Mom was dating anybody and suggesting ways she could make herself more attractive.

  “Why do you even want to go?” I asked Mom.

  She laughed. “I ask myself that all the time.” But when she saw that I was serious, she continued. “Well,” she said, “I’ve been going to Fire Island in the summer since I was a kid. I love the ocean, and the deer, and the swans, and the peacefulness…”

  The peacefulness, which lasted until Grandma’s second drink was getting low.

  “I like the community,” Mom went on. “I like getting out of the city when it’s boiling hot. And I thought you loved going out there, being by the
ocean. I know Penguin does. Don’t you, Poo-Poo?” She reached down and patted him on his chubby back. Penguin wiggled in pleasure, probably thinking of chasing seagulls on the beach.

  Mom was right. I did love playing in the ocean and looking for perfect shells and making “sandcastles” that always came out the same: a formless pile of sand with a trench in front and a seagull feather on top. “Aunt Jenny loved it, too,” I said.

  “She sure did. Remember how she’d go into the ocean, even if the water was freezing?”

  “And then she’d drip the freezing water all over everybody.”

  Aunt Jenny didn’t spend the whole summer with us at Grandma’s. She just joined us for a week or two, if she could. Mom loved it when Aunt Jenny was there, because Aunt Jenny knew how to flatter or distract Grandma whenever she started to get mean. Aunt Jenny would say something like “Diane, you were so right about that new house on Lewis Walk. It’s simply atrocious. Who did you say the owners were? They must be ghastly.”

  And Grandma would forget about Mom for a minute and start ragging on the neighbors. “The Greniers! Ucch, they’re terrible. They leave their garbage cans uncovered, and the deer get into the trash…”

  Mom changed the subject away from Aunt Jenny. “Is there something else you want to do instead of going to the beach? I know you’re a little too old to get excited about summer camp. But maybe there’s a theater camp or a writing program we could find for you in the city. I bet they’d love to have you volunteer more hours at Waggytail, too.”

  “Mmmm.” Now that she mentioned it, the idea of hanging around the hot, stinky city with nothing to do didn’t sound so appealing.

  “We don’t have to spend the whole summer on Fire Island,” she continued. “Look, we’re going out there soon to help Grandma open the house for the season—let’s see how we feel about it and then make summer plans. Do you want me to ask Savvy’s moms if she can come?”

  I shrugged. The fewer words I said about Savvy, the better.

  Mom decided to dig a little. “How is Savvy?”

  “She’s … okay.”

  Mom bent down to untangle Penguin’s leash, which was wound around one of his back legs. “Seems like you two aren’t hanging out as much.”

  “Yeah, she’s been … busy with stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  I used my mom’s phone and showed her a picture from Savvy’s Instagram. She was posing with Naturi and Sierra in front of a subway poster that said JUICY.

  “I see,” said Mom. “Very busy indeed.”

  “It’s like a full-time job,” I explained. “Being juicy.”

  “Oh, juiciness doesn’t just happen,” Mom agreed. “You have to put the work into it.”

  “Her project for current events is called ‘Juiciness, and How It Affects Today’s Teens.’”

  “When she gets to college, she can major in being juicy.”

  “With a minor in juiciness studies.”

  This was the kind of thing we used to do with Aunt Jenny all the time, take an idea and see how silly we could get with it, the three of us challenging each other to new levels of ridiculousness.

  Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny Aunt Jenny.

  No wonder people said I’m depressing and boring.

  Four

  Day 3 of my lucky month started poorly. There was the usual dog-snot issue, and then I dropped my phone in the toilet. (At least the toilet was flushed.) My phone was only in there for a second before I grabbed it, so it would probably survive, but I would have to wipe it down with alcohol and let it sit in a bag of dry rice all day.

  “See?” said Mom when I got back from walking Penguin. “Aren’t you glad that wasn’t a six-hundred-dollar phone?”

  Great. Now she had an excuse to never get me a new phone. I would be stuck forever with my crappy one. I should have flushed it when I had the chance. “Shut up,” I muttered.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know you didn’t just tell me to shut up. I know you value your life too much for that.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for my mom that morning. I grabbed Penguin’s collar to detach the leash and he yelped in surprise. “Whatever.”

  “HEY,” she said, extra loud. “Don’t you EVER jerk him around by the collar. And don’t you EVER tell me to shut up. I don’t tell you to shut up. That’s not how we speak to each other.”

  “Okay, then, BE QUIET.” That was something she said plenty of times.

  From the look on her face, and the lovely red color rising there, I knew I had made a big mistake. I dropped my head, ready for her to scream at me, but to my surprise she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was probably thinking of ways to punish me—usually she took away my phone for a day, but my phone was already busted, so that wouldn’t work. I sneaked a peek at her face to see how badly I’d upset her.

  Her jaw was trembling and her eyes were filling with tears. She grabbed a paper towel from the counter and crushed it against her face. I could see her shoulders shaking like she was crying, but she was silent.

  If she wanted to make me feel guilty, it wasn’t going to work. I stomped out of the room and collected my stuff for school.

  When I passed through the kitchen to leave, she was still standing in the same place against the counter.

  “Look at me,” she demanded. I did. Her eyes were red and wet, but her stare was steady. She was pissed.

  “Ever since Aunt Jenny died, I’ve been trying to go easy on you, because I know you’re hurting. But I am not going to let you get away with acting like a brat. You are pushing your luck. You feel me? And your luck is running out.”

  I hate it when Mom tries to be cool and say things like “You feel me?”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry. Now can I go?”

  I was halfway down the stairs by the time her words reached my brain: And your luck is running out.

  No kidding. My aunt was dead, my best friend was ditching me for the popular girls, and now I had no phone for the day. Aside from a cursed $20, a seat on the bus, and Doggie Lancelot’s recovery, what had all my supposed luck brought me?

  I resolved to forget about the letter. It was a stupid mind game, just like everything else.

  * * *

  Savvy wasn’t outside of school when I got there. That was probably a good thing. I was still pissed off by the texts I’d gotten the day before—even if she didn’t send them, like she said, her friends did. She was hanging out with people who were nasty to me for no reason, and I was sick of it.

  I didn’t know who to stand with on the sidewalk. I didn’t even have my phone, so I felt even more awkward. I tried not to watch Dakota’s squad in their thick cluster: Sierra, Naturi, Tyler, Lewis, and the two or three others who got the privilege of hanging out with them this semester. They were definitely watching me, though, and Sierra purposely said the word “pathetic” loud enough for me to hear it.

  Savvy hadn’t shown up by the time we had to go inside. As we were walking in, Dakota and Sierra passed right by me, holding a loud conversation meant for my ears.

  “That’s so awesome that Savvy hooked up with Tyler yesterday,” said Sierra.

  “I know,” Dakota said. “She’s perfect for him.”

  They turned my way and smirked, then walked on.

  Savvy hooked up with Tyler yesterday. I could barely breathe. I felt like I couldn’t walk. Luckily, I was right next to the first-floor teachers’ bathroom, and the door was slightly open. I slipped inside and locked it behind me.

  I let out all my breath at once. I was safe in there—nobody was going to walk in, nobody could hear me. I sat down on the lid of the toilet. I was so frustrated, I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Instead, I exploded into angry tears.

  WHY, I thought, weeping bitterly. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME. Hadn’t I had enough already? I just lost someone I’d loved all my life, someone
I could always count on, my second mom. And this was after months of watching her trying to fight, getting sicker and thinner and weaker until she wasn’t there anymore.

  ENOUGH. I get it, Universe. You can stop now. I didn’t need to be losing Savvy so soon after losing Aunt Jenny. And she didn’t need to hook up with the guy I’d liked for two entire years, even if Tyler started it. You never hook up with your best friend’s crush! That’s the very first rule of girl code! And the whole Dakota group didn’t need to laugh at me. And Mom didn’t need to be on my case. And I really didn’t need some mind-game mystery letter telling me I was lucky when clearly I was not.

  I felt very sorry for myself. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, because I had a lot of privileges other kids didn’t, but sometimes it happened anyway. I wasn’t living in a refugee camp or a hut with a hole for a toilet, but my life still sucked. I cried and cried until I was empty, which took a while. I had to make sure that no more tears could come out of me in front of other people. Only then could I leave the bathroom.

  I showed up five minutes late to history, fake-sneezing to cover for my puffy eyes. “Allergies,” I said apologetically. “Achoo!”

  I kept up the allergies charade throughout the day, and every chance I got, I went to the bathroom and pressed cold, wet paper towels on my eyes. I decided to spend lunch in the library so I wouldn’t have to see Savvy. She’d probably be sitting with Tyler as cartoon hearts exploded over their heads. I knew it wasn’t her fault that Tyler liked her and not me, but it still fully sucked for me. Was I just supposed to sit there, one table away, while Savvy sat between Dakota and Tyler, her new best friend and her new boyfriend?

  She could at least have told me about her and Tyler herself.

  It was hard not being able to text her. I kept imagining myself typing things and erasing them without sending. I thought maybe if we could talk about it, if she could explain what happened or apologize, some of the furious nausea inside me might go away. But the texts I got from her the day before were fresh in my mind: