by Jenny Goebel
The air tingled with energy as every single student formed a tight fist and rapped their knuckles on wood, three times in perfect unison.
No one dared to flat-out ignore the bold statement, but some took it more lightly than others. Simon Swift yawned into his basketball shooting hand while knocking with the other. Felicia and Sabrina rolled their eyes. The less confident among us—anyone who had poor luck to begin with, as well as those on the fringe who might’ve botched their birthday wishes—performed the ritual with such intense reverence, it seemed almost like prayer.
Mrs. Swinton gave a quick, approving nod of her head, and then got down to business. “Now, who can tell me what 567,690 divided by 894 is?”
Like most everyone else, I immediately began rummaging through my desk for a pencil and a sheet of paper, but Felicia’s hand shot straight up into the air.
“Felicia?” Mrs. Swinton said.
“Hmmm … 635?” Felicia gave her answer in such a way that it was clear she was just plucking a number out of her head. Then excitedly she added, “Am I right?”
“Yes, Felicia. Lucky guess,” Mrs. Swinton said flatly. The rest of us dropped our pencils. “Okay, why don’t we try taking out our math books instead? Please find page 203 and complete problems one through thirty.”
I know it’s weird, but getting started on the assignment was a relief. It loosened my stomach muscles and slowed my heartbeat. For the first time all morning, I felt somewhat at ease. I couldn’t make random guesses and get the answers right the way Felicia could, but schoolwork typically came easy to me. It wasn’t all murky like Fate, and luck, and superstitions. It had right and wrong answers. And grades, for the most part, weren’t determined by what charms you owned, or whether or not you toppled over the saltshaker at breakfast.
Throwing myself completely into the problems at hand (those of the long-division variety), I was almost able to forget about my birthday on Friday, and the test next Monday, and the fact that Cooper’s parents were being swayed by the Kahns and already didn’t want him hanging out with me.
I could almost forget about all the bad things that had happened to me and the people I loved, and that a year from now I’d probably be living at Bane’s—only able to see Petey and my mom every now and then. As for my dog and Cooper—I’d probably never get to see either of them.
I could almost forget about all the ways my terrible luck was threatening to sink me. Almost.
Right before we were supposed to head to the cafeteria, Mrs. Swinton said, “Felicia Kahn and Sadie Bleeker, I’d like to see both of you after everyone else leaves for lunch.”
I was more surprised than worried. Felicia and I were hardly ever clumped together. In a daze, I wandered toward Mrs. Swinton’s desk as the room emptied out.
From the way Felicia was examining the muddy spots on my clothing and then turning her nose up in the air, I’d have to say appalled was a better word than surprised for what she was feeling.
“Ladies,” Mrs. Swinton said after the door shut. “I’ve graded the quizzes you took last week. Congratulations, you’ve both qualified for the school spelling bee.”
“What?” Felicia said sharply. “How did she qualify?”
Honestly, I wasn’t even offended. I was sort of wondering the same thing.
Mrs. Swinton raised an eyebrow. “Don’t confuse an aptitude for spelling with luck, Felicia.”
“When is it?” I asked. I felt stunned, sickened even.
“This Thursday,” Mrs. Swinton said. “There will be two representatives from every homeroom. It will take place in the gym, in front of the entire school, and the winner will move on to the district bee taking place next month.”
“Unluckies, too?” Felicia’s asked, the look on her face growing more revolted.
Mrs. Swinton sighed. “No, of course not, Felicia. Only Luckies and students who are Undetermined.”
“But—”
The teacher held up her hand. “Sadie is still Undetermined, just like you. However, I’m afraid that any contestant who fails the Luck Test will be automatically disqualified and will not be allowed to participate next month at districts.”
It was harsh, but I understood. It’d be too dangerous for a real Unlucky—not just an Undetermined like me—to be around that many other kids, no matter how great they were at spelling.
“So, really, what you’re saying is that our classroom only has one true competitor.” Felicia’s grimace relaxed, and her mouth spread into an arrogant smile. She knew I had no chance of passing the test.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Mrs. Swinton replied with a finality that left no room for argument. “Now the two of you should go to lunch.”
I hung back as Felicia promenaded out of the classroom. She made my blood boil. I knew I was a better speller than she was, but I’d stopped wanting to be on any sort of stage a long time ago. Plus, the last thing I needed right now was a distraction. My mud-splattered clothes were a perfect reminder of that. No, the only thing I had time to concentrate on this week was finding a way to pass the Luck Test.
Petey had a good day, a purple day, his preschool teacher said. At first, I thought Ms. Summer was referring to the purple paint splatters in Petey’s curly light brown hair—hair the exact same color and texture as my own.
Ms. Summer’s hair, on the other hand, was a rich chestnut, and it fell into a perfect bob just below her chin. With hair like that, not a single strand out of place, she had to be a Lucky. Which is a good thing, I reminded myself. Petey’s stuck with me all the time. The last thing he needs is a hapless person looking after him at school, too.
It was only when Ms. Summer pointed to a clipboard with a rainbow-colored behavior chart that I realized what she meant. “Purple is the highest level,” she said, beaming appreciatively at my little brother. I was slightly taken aback. It was not a look people often gave us Bleekers.
“Um … what about the paint?” I asked, thinking she must’ve gotten Petey mixed up with one of the other preschoolers.
“Another child’s art project gone terribly wrong, I’m afraid,” Ms. Summer said, and then clicked her tongue. Now, that was a sound I was used to.
Petey and I made it back across the splintered cement we’d crossed that morning—again without stepping on a single crack. When the sidewalk curved to the right, we continued going straight. The dirt path that ran behind a row of houses with large yards and pretty shutters on the windows was a far safer route for the two of us.
Since I didn’t have to worry about breaking my mother’s back just then, I allowed myself to ponder what it might mean to have a Lucky for a brother. I’d always assumed Petey would veer toward hapless like the rest of the family. Not that Mom or Dad had ever been tested. The Luck Test was enacted after my parents were out of school and married, which meant most of the adults in town hadn’t been tested, either. It only wormed its way into the school system nine years ago after a boy named John Floyd turned thirteen and nearly reduced his entire neighborhood to ashes. All it took was a gas leak and a few birthday candles, and a ball of flames engulfed his home. It was a windy day. The fire spread quickly. The school board president’s house could not be saved.
Still, test or no test, my parents were clearly ill-starred. They’d had me for a daughter, hadn’t they? But what if Petey wasn’t? What if he could sail through life without worrying that doom lay around each and every corner? What would that even feel like?
The truth was, I could remember the last time someone had looked at me the way Ms. Summer had looked at Petey—as though somewhere inside there might be a streak of good fortune. It was the last time I’d truly felt lucky. I could also remember how quickly that feeling had changed.
Dad and I had been taking Wink for a walk when a tawny bird jolted up from the pebbly, dry riverbed in front of us. It flapped its wings, but instead of taking flight, it began staggering around unsteadily on absurdly long legs.
I’d let out a cry, thinking the bird
must’ve been injured.
Dad had only laughed. “It’s a killdeer, Sadie girl. She’s just pretending to be hurt to lead us away from her nest. Probably thinks Wink, the one-eyed wonder dog, is searching for her next meal. Really laying it on thick, aren’t you, mama bird?”
As the killdeer continued with her award-winning performance, I spotted exactly what she didn’t want us to see. “Look!” I said, forging ahead. “The killdeer’s eggs—I didn’t know birds ever built their nests on the ground.”
Dad nodded. “Some do,” he said, and smiled at me proudly. “Maybe you’re a Lucky, happening upon one so easily.”
The possibility of it had made me feel as though I had a hot-air balloon inside, ready to lift me off the ground. I’d felt so deliciously light and happy then.
Glancing down again at the purple clumps in Petey’s hair, I wished like mad I could cinch the memory off there. But this memory was like a landslide, and I just couldn’t stop the rest of it from barreling me over.
“I’d better not get too close with Wink here,” Dad had continued. “Plus, their mama does seem to be rather distressed. We should probably move on …”
As I’d turned to do just that, I accidentally kicked up a small round pebble with one sneaker and it rolled beneath the other. Next thing I knew, I was stumbling and then lurching forward, trying to regain my balance—which I did, finally—when one foot landed squarely in the center of the killdeer’s nest.
I felt the crunching beneath my misplaced sneaker before anything else. Before my dad and Wink were trotting up beside me, before the mama bird gave one last despondent squawk and before the crack of lives ending along with their fragile eggshells reached my ears.
My seven-year-old self slammed my eyes shut and stubbornly refused to open them as hot tears slid down my face. Countless stained dresses, falls from bed, a twisted ankle the day before a ballet recital—this was just the latest on a long list of accidents my family had been trying to explain away for ages.
“Shhh,” my dad had soothed, and tried to smooth my unmanageable curls with his hand. Wink licked at my knee. “Listen to me, Sadie girl,” Dad said. “Even if you aren’t lucky, you’re smart, and that’s far more important.”
I soaked in his words, trying to let them patch the punctured balloon inside me. It never truly worked, though; something always happened that seemed to rip the seams wide open again. But for a long time—maybe even up until the day Dad died—I was foolish enough to believe I might someday be mended.
Petey gave my hand a tense squeeze, drawing me back to the present day. “Sadie, we’re almost there.”
Of course we were. Part of my superbly awful lot in life included living on the far side of Fortune Falls Cemetery. It was bad enough that my brother and I were forced to navigate the most treacherous stretch of sidewalk on a near-daily basis, but we also had to trek past the gates of the old graveyard each day on the way home from school.
Fading ribbons were tied to the cemetery fence posts and wilted flowers were scattered beside the path, but I knew that none of these memorials had been left for those buried inside.
Pass the graveyard, hold your breath,
Lest you wish to dance with Death.
The rhyme was taught to all children in Fortune Falls, and yet people still perished along this route. Before they closed the street, cars would break down and the drivers would panic, forgetting to hold their breath while they ran toward safety. The road was now its own graveyard of abandoned vehicles. Even the fire and police departments wouldn’t respond to an emergency anywhere in the vicinity.
The footpath was much more direct and therefore much shorter. If you were a fast walker, you’d only have to hold your breath for about twenty seconds. But if the makeshift memorials were any indication, mishaps still occurred. At least this path was more accessible than the road, and the bodies had been cleared. I didn’t think I could trust myself to walk down a path littered with bones every day and not scream.
“Are you ready?” I asked Petey.
He shook his head.
“Okay, then we’ll wait until you are.”
Petey’s slight little frame heaved with relief. He flashed me a puny, crooked smile and then bounded off for a nearby tree.
Oh boy, I thought to myself, this tree is going to be the downfall of Petey’s good day. I pictured him with his arm in a sling, and chased after my brother. When I reached the magnificent old oak, he’d already scrambled up three branches, and there was no way I was fortified with enough luck for tree climbing.
“Petey!” I yelled.
“You can see inside the cemetery from up here,” he hollered back.
“I don’t want to see inside the cemetery. I want you to come down!”
“It’s like a lost city! There are vines on all the crosses. And like half of the headstones are broken or falling down.”
“There’s a reason everyone gets cremated these days,” I nearly screamed. “And if you’re not careful, you’re going to be one of them very soon!”
Petey made no attempt to come down. Instead he said, “Hey, some big kids are coming this way.”
In Petey’s world, big kid could mean anyone a year older than he was to someone three times his age. Instinctively, I ducked behind the oak. “What do they look like?”
“Three girls.”
That ruled out the only “big kid” in town I cared to see. “Stay quiet,” I whisper-yelled. Then, without really thinking about what I was saying, I added, “With any luck they’ll pass us by.”
“But—”
“Hush!”
With Petey silenced, I could make out three high-pitched voices growing louder as the girls drew closer. I peeked out from my hiding spot just as Felicia Kahn stopped walking. She stooped over to pick something off the ground and then straightened up with a small, shiny coin in her hand. All three girls let out earsplitting squeals.
“I can’t believe it,” Sabrina said. “That is your second one today. You are SO lucky.” The smile on her face couldn’t hide her envy. Sabrina may have had fairy-tale golden locks and a cute little elfin nose, but even among those with luck, fortune seemed allotted by degrees, and everybody wanted more.
Betsy Williams was with them, too, but unlike Sabrina, she had no chance of usurping Felicia’s role as Fortune Falls’s most favored darling. “You’re the luckiest,” Betsy said wistfully, mirroring my thoughts exactly.
I really could’ve used that lucky penny.
Felicia didn’t deny what Betsy had said. Instead she appeared to be attempting a demure smile, but like most everything about Felicia, it came off looking smug. She sighed loudly. “I can’t believe Cooper hasn’t asked me to the Friday the Thirteenth Dance already. But since he hasn’t, this would be a very good day to bump into him. I mean, two lucky pennies in one day—there’s no way he can resist me.”
Felicia flicked her silky black ponytail over her left shoulder. Her flawless ivory complexion nearly gleamed in the late-afternoon sun. My heart sank. I wouldn’t blame Cooper if he asked her. He deserved to go to the dance with the luckiest girl in town, and it’s not like I could even attend if he asked me.
There was the matter of his parents actually forbidding him from hanging out with me. Even though the dance fell on my birthday this year, they would never allow him to spend it in my company. And then, of course, the Friday the Thirteenth Dance was really just a slap in the face to the unluckiest. It was too dangerous for any of us to even dream of going outside that day.
I noticed then that Betsy was frozen in place, petrified as she examined all the memorials adorning the path.
Felicia seemed to notice, too. “You go first, Betsy. That way if you have trouble, we can go for help,” she said. I wondered if what she really meant was, if you have trouble, we won’t get stuck in the middle of it. Any help Felicia and Sabrina could “go for” would arrive too late.
I felt sorry for Betsy as she timidly stepped forward. Like Cooper, Betsy ha
d always been on the fringe—in that gray area—certainly not unlucky, but with no kismet to spare, either.
I wondered why Felicia even kept Betsy around. Maybe it was because next to Betsy she could shine even more brightly without any real risk of misfortune spilling over onto Felicia’s shoes, ruining her dressy patent-leather flats.
Betsy must not have been moving quickly enough for Felicia, because she reached out and gave her friend a little nudge. Terror flooded Betsy’s dull brown eyes. But she sucked in a large breath of air, then bravely darted across the path running directly in front of the falling-down twisted-iron gates. I couldn’t help but hold my breath right along with her.
“You know she’s never going to pass the Spring Luck Test, don’t you?” Sabrina said to Felicia once Betsy was out of earshot.
Felicia chuckled snidely. “Of course I do. But if everyone passed, that would sort of defeat the purpose. Do you know what she wasted her birthday wish on?”
Sabrina shook her head.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need to find a certain boy before the luck from this penny wears off!” Felicia sucked in her breath and bolted past the gates. Sabrina did the same.
When I was certain they were gone, I let out a long sigh. “Climb down, Petey. Please,” I said, reaching up to take hold of the first branch. It snapped off in my hand, and I fell backward, my head landing with a loud thunk on a rock beneath the tree. The branch fell on top of me, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
Petey clambered down with ease and was beside me before the world came back into focus. “Sadie, are you okay?”
I would have nodded my head, but it was throbbing. I shoved the branch off my stomach so I could breathe again. “I will be,” I said, and then murmured to myself, “this time.”
Petey helped me to my feet. Although, really, it was more just me holding on to his hand as I struggled to find solid footing. Waiting for the scenery to stop spinning, I noticed that my little brother was trembling beside me. His eyes were darting back and forth between me and the entrance to the cemetery we still had to pass.