by Jenny Goebel
What could I do but surrender?
Miserably, I turned and retreated back inside. My arms hung limply at my sides as I lumbered down the empty hallway. No one seemed to have noticed I’d been missing. No doors creaked open. No heads poked out.
“Wink?” I whispered in the dark, hoping to hear the thud of her paws on the hardwood floor, but apparently she was still traumatized by the storm and was planning to spend the entire night in the bathtub.
Alone and with spirits so low, I didn’t think they could drop any further, I returned to my room. I flipped on the light switch and crawled back under the sheets, fully clothed. Eventually, even with the light on overhead, I somehow drifted off to sleep.
I carried the weight of my nightmares with me as I rose from bed the next morning. I guess the important part is that I did rise. When I’d fallen asleep the night before, I’d certainly had my doubts.
Light was reflecting off the aluminum window well when I awoke, and I walked over to the glass, angling myself to peer up and around the well at the sky above. Not a single cloud sullied the smooth pinkish-gray dawn.
If I had found a single thundercloud, I probably would’ve slunk right back into bed. But the peaceful, blush-colored tint of this clear-skied morning made me think that perhaps all was not lost.
The broken mirror felt no more real than the nightmares that had kept me tossing and turning all night. I could shrug the whole thing off, because it hadn’t actually happened. Couldn’t possibly have been true, or I wouldn’t have been waking up like this—like it was any other morning.
Deep down, I knew it hadn’t been a nightmare, of course. I knew that the curse I’d brought upon myself hadn’t really dissipated with the light of a new day and that it wouldn’t for seven more years. But pretending felt like hiding inside a protective shell. I didn’t want to stop.
I glanced at the alarm clock. I’d overslept. If I missed school, I’d have to face the wrath of my mother. She’d already given permission for Petey and me to stay home on Friday. Not because it was my birthday, but because it was the thirteenth and she thought we’d be safer if we didn’t leave the house.
Plus, the sun was shining brightly—what could possibly go wrong?
I scrambled for my backpack and dumped out all the clothes and food I’d crammed in the night before. I shoved my school stuff back in. There wasn’t time to change, so I charged upstairs thinking it was a good thing I’d slept in my clothes.
Since Mom didn’t have to go on shift until later, she was driving Petey to Pot-of-Gold and I was able to take a more direct route to school. Even while pretending that my life wasn’t a ticking bomb, I wasn’t deluded enough to think I didn’t need to watch out for cracks in the sidewalk.
With my head down, I noticed the puddle first. It wasn’t confined to the gutter like the one the day before. This puddle engulfed the entire sidewalk in a spot where the cement dipped low.
I was wondering how best to get around it when I heard a snap and looked up. The tree above me was charred and split down the middle. I reasoned that it had been struck by lightning during the previous night’s storm. The crack I’d heard came from a heavy branch that had fallen on an electrical wire. It was now stretching the wire tight.
While I was still looking up, the limb snapped again and, this time, it splintered entirely away from the trunk, dragging the hot wire down with it. The wire skimmed across the puddle just a few feet in front of me.
I stood frozen, just shy of where the sparks flew and the air popped and sizzled. I wasn’t actually shocked—unless you want to count the jolt the whole thing gave my heart—but I came very close to being electrocuted.
Thanks to my dad, I knew if only one of my feet was touching the ground, electricity could travel up one leg and down the other, my body acting as a channel for it to follow. So even though instinct told me to jump, I kept both feet on the ground and shuffled off the sidewalk and onto the road—better to risk being run over than being jolted by a live electrical wire. Once I was in the clear, I hurried past and continued on my way to school.
The near electrocution had definitely shaken me out of my stupor. So much for pretending the curse wasn’t real. But, weirdly, I wasn’t devastated by the wake-up call. I could only think that my dad would’ve been proud. I’d stayed calm, kept my wits about me, and remembered what to do. I’d just dodged a deadly strike.
Then I thought about the black cat I’d seen the night before. I remembered cats sometimes toy with their prey before going for the jugular. They’ll toss mice in the air, cuff birds with their paws, or even let squirrels go, only to draw the critters back in for the fatal pounce.
But as I walked on, I decided that if Fate was determined to toy with me, I just had to keep dodging. Then, when an opportunity to slip beyond its reach came, I couldn’t miss it. And, the way I saw it, my only opportunity would present itself in a few short days in the form of a birthday wish.
I actually made it to school on time, but the relief that came with that one tiny success didn’t last very long. When Mrs. Swinton asked us to turn in our homework, I opened my backpack only to discover that I’d overlooked my red folder when I was shoving my school stuff back in. My paper on the original thirteen colonies was at home, most likely somewhere beneath my bed.
“You can stay in for lunch and recess and work on it then,” Mrs. Swinton said, which actually wasn’t so bad since I’d also forgotten my lunch and accidents were more likely to happen on the playground anyway.
As I rewrote my report for the third time (third time’s a charm!), Mrs. Swinton said, “Have you had a chance to study for the spelling bee yet?”
While I’d been scribbling away about Jamestown, Virginia, the first permanent colony, she’d been sitting at her desk, eating black-eyed peas from a thermos and grading papers.
I groaned. The spelling bee? No, the spelling bee had been the furthest thing from my mind for the past twenty-four hours. “I don’t think me being in the spelling bee is such a good idea, Mrs. Swinton,” I said, lifting my head up from my report. “You might want to pick someone else.” My heart sank a little as I said it. I hadn’t been admitting it to myself, but there was a part of me that wanted to stay in the bee—if for no other reason than to aggravate Felicia.
“Nonsense,” she replied, going back to making quick, sharp red marks on someone’s paper. “You’re the best speller in the class.”
“But my luck!” I retorted.
Mrs. Swinton didn’t even look up. “Haven’t you ever heard that success begets success? Perhaps this spelling bee is exactly what you need.”
For a long time after, I just stared at the two lucky horseshoes on the whiteboard. Mrs. Swinton had drawn the second one earlier that morning. I had just six more days before the day of the Spring Luck Test, and just today and tomorrow to study for the bee. Did she actually think I had a shot at winning?
I was still sort of frozen as the other students filed into the classroom, many of them sweaty and out of breath from having been outside. The stench of unwashed socks and underwear as Simon Swift walked by reminded me that the boys’ baseball team was on a winning streak.
A winning streak.
Win the spelling bee. Pass the Luck Test. Is that what Mrs. Swinton was trying to tell me?
I might have stayed lost in my thoughts forever if someone hadn’t tapped me on the shoulder. Mrs. Swinton was conjugating verbs up at the whiteboard, and Nathan Small was passing me a note.
I took the note from Nathan, but it wasn’t from him.
Meet me at the Wishing Well after school. —Betsy
My first thought was that it must be a trick. Betsy was Felicia’s friend after all. But when I glanced in her direction, she met my eyes and her smile was kind. Genuine. I didn’t think it was something she could fake. I nodded my head slowly. I wasn’t sure what she wanted, or whether or not I actually wanted to meet up with her, but I did think the Wishing Well might be worth a visit.
The Wishing Well is Fort
une Falls’s oldest landmark. It sits in the middle of a grassy square surrounded by an old clock tower and other historical buildings—many of which have been turned into trendy boutiques where the Luckies all like to shop.
Betsy was reading the copper plaque next to the well when I arrived.
Toss a coin into this well,
And to the water spirit tell,
Your deepest wish or favorite spell.
Fate favors those who luck befell.
“Doesn’t it make you angry?” Betsy asked without looking up from the plaque when I sidled up next to her. “Basically it’s saying your wish won’t come true unless you’re already lucky. Fate only grants wishes to ‘those who luck befell.’”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure anyone gets their wishes from this well anymore. Not even the Lucky.” It was true. Most people believed the water sprite or nymph that had once dwelled here had abandoned us and our wishes long ago.
“But here we are,” Betsy said.
“Yeah, here we are.” I think what we both meant was “Are we really this desperate?” And the answer was yes.
She fished two pennies from her pocket and held one out to me. “It’s not lucky, but I thought …”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from her. I was too embarrassed to admit that my own pockets were empty, but not so proud that I’d reject the coin.
Betsy stared silently at the well for just a minute before closing her eyes and tossing her penny in. Then she looked at me.
I took a deep breath. What to wish for? The list was too long: to undo the curse, to keep my family safe, for Cooper’s parents to let him hang out with me, to get my birthday wish, and to pass the Luck Test—it was too hard to choose. Finally I closed my eyes. I wish to be lucky, I thought, hoping that would cover it all, and tossed the penny.
I opened my eyes just in time to see the penny slide down the inside wall of the well and land on an uneven stone ledge. The coin was too far down to be retrieved but not far enough to reach the water sprite—assuming there was still one living at the bottom of the well. So much for coming here being a good idea.
“Rotten luck,” Betsy murmured.
“I know.”
“Sorry I don’t have another one.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay. It probably wouldn’t make any difference.”
“You must be wondering why I wanted you to meet me here.”
I looked straight at her and nodded.
“I heard you talking to Mrs. Swinton about dropping out of the spelling bee. I think you should stay in it.”
“Why?” I asked. Though what I meant was “Why do you care?”
“Because you should. Because you’re a terrific speller. Because Felicia found a copy of the spelling list before we took the qualifying quiz and studied all the words ahead of time. Because someone needs to put her in her place. And because …” Betsy ended on a triumphant note: “Because the last five spelling bee champions have all gone on to Flourish Academy!”
“I thought you and Felicia were friends,” I answered, unmoved. Well, not entirely unmoved. The part about the champions going to Flourish might’ve piqued my interest, but who’s to say they weren’t already Lucky to begin with.
“We are. We were. I don’t know, okay? Yesterday I asked her if she’d let me borrow one of her charms for the Luck Test … She’d just found a lucky penny, her second one that day … And I’ve been to her house. She has like a gazillion lucky things. It’s not like letting me borrow one for a day would be a big deal.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, remembering Felicia’s grating squeal when she’d picked up the second shiny coin and the date with Cooper she’d thought it’d bring her. It must’ve been after I’d seen them pass the cemetery gates that Betsy asked Felicia to lend her a charm. “Let me guess. She said no.”
“She said she’d love to help me out, but then I’d ‘never learn to depend on my own luck and not be wasteful,’ and then she told Sabrina that she shouldn’t let me borrow one of her charms, either. I think she wants me to go to Bane’s.”
“So you want me to stay in the spelling bee, because you think I can beat Felicia.” It felt strange to be having this conversation with Betsy, but it was nice to know that she thought I could win. “And you want to see her lose at something for once, because she’s awful.”
Betsy scrunched up her nose. “Yes,” she admitted. “Does that make me just as awful as she is?”
“Not really.” I couldn’t imagine Felicia ever giving someone else a coin to toss into the Wishing Well. “But why did you ask to borrow a charm? Why didn’t you just use your birthday wish?” The moment it slipped out I regretted it. It was kind of a personal question, and Betsy and I really didn’t know each other that well.
She didn’t seem angry with me for asking, but she did seem deflated. I almost said I was sorry, but then she blurted out, “My brother. I used it on my brother.”
“You used your wish on your brother,” I said, no less confused than before. I knew she had an older brother, but that’s all I knew about her family. That, and that I’d never thought of any of them as being unlucky.
“Yeah. One bad choice and he wound up at Bane’s instead of Flourish, and now I’ll probably end up at Bane’s, too.” Betsy went very still and closed her eyes again. I think she was trying to hold back the flood of whatever emotions she was feeling.
I waited quietly to see if she’d say more, and sure enough, a long moment later, Betsy reopened her eyes and breathed in deeply through her freckled nose. She seemed a bit more composed and ready to tell her story. “He turned thirteen a few days ago … I thought there was a good chance he wouldn’t survive the day if I didn’t wish for it on my birthday. My birthday was just last week,” she explained. “We were born almost exactly a year apart … Anyway, not all the kids who go to Bane’s live past their thirteenth birthdays, you know. It’s one reason Bane’s is so …”
“Terrifying,” I offered.
“I was going to say safeguarded. They have to be prepared for all types of disasters. But terrifying works, too.”
We exchanged fleeting smiles.
“Our parents won’t forgive him for not using his twelfth-birthday wish to pass the Luck Test. They say he threw his life away. And it’s all because he wanted to be better at playing the guitar without actually having to practice. I guess he thought he had enough luck to pass the test without his wish. But he was wrong. He’s crazy good now, but he can’t even play it at Bane’s. They wouldn’t let him bring his guitar with him—something about the strings being too dangerous.”
At some point while she was talking, Betsy had turned back to the well and was staring deep inside the black hole. She laughed coldheartedly. “Mom and Dad think I used my wish for the Luck Test. They’re absolutely going to freak when they find out I threw away my future for him. They’ll probably disown us both.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just stood there until she finally tore her attention away from the well and turned back to me. “Do the spelling bee, Sadie. It may not seem like you have much of a chance, but any chance is better than none.”
* * *
It’s strange, I thought as I walked home alone, Betsy actually seemed to believe that hers was a lost cause and that mine wasn’t—that the spelling bee could somehow be my lucky break. I wondered if she would’ve felt differently if I’d told her about the broken mirror.
Why hadn’t I? Maybe because having someone believe in me made me feel like I could actually believe in myself.
I had survived the storm last night and the downed electrical wire this morning. I was already committed to dodging Fate’s blows, maybe I could incorporate the spelling bee into my plans. Maybe I really could get a winning streak rolling with it. Win the spelling bee. Make my birthday wish. Pass the Luck Test.
Win spelling bee. Make birthday wish. Pass Luck Test. It sounded so simple when I broke it down.
I hurried home with an unfamiliar v
igor, darting over the cracks in the sidewalk with a bold spring before bursting through the front door. There must’ve been a gleam in my eye as well, a light Mom hadn’t seen in a while, because she seemed taken aback.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, a smile blossoming on her face. She didn’t even ask where I’d been. “You seem so chipper!”
My mom had the sleepy, half-open blue-green eyes of a dreamer. Staring at her, all I could do was smile back and pretend that my heart really was leaping. That I’d found the cheerfulness she so badly craved for me, for all of us—even though in actuality my energy was spurred more by grit than happiness.
“I qualified for the school spelling bee,” I told her, “and I’m anxious for my birthday to come.”
“Oh, Sadie. I’m so proud of you!” All the pretending was worth it to see her smile reach full bloom. “And that reminds me. I’ve been meaning to ask you what kind of ice-cream cake you want. Cookie dough, pistachio cream, Neapolitan?”
“Pistachio,” I said. It wasn’t my favorite, but I knew it was hers.
“Fantastic! I’ll stop by the Dairy Freeze after work tomorrow and place an order. Petey and I picked up fresh apples at the store on our way home. And now I’m off to my room to study. Unless you need anything?” Mom had her back to me and was already walking down the hall.
“No,” I answered. “I’ll probably study for the bee and then take Wink for a walk.”
“Sounds good, Sadie,” Mom said.
I retrieved an apple from the kitchen and took a bite. Granny Smith this time, and the tartness made me pucker. Then I sat down at the kitchen table and opened the study booklet Mrs. Swinton had given both Felicia and me.
“Tips and Tricks for Spelling Bee Success,” the first page read. I imagined Felicia taking one glance at the booklet and immediately tossing the entire thing in the trash. When had she ever needed tips and tricks? Me, on the other hand … tips and tricks were how I survived.
I learned that an s and c were often used for the s sound in words that came from Latin. Words like susceptible and visceral. I read about words that came from Arabic and Asian languages, too. I’d never given much thought to where the words I used came from, but just reading about them made my world seem bigger somehow. Words that came from French and German and even ancient Greek had been floating around in my thoughts and connecting me with other people without me even knowing. That felt a bit like magic, and it made me sad to think I might not be able to compete at districts even if I won the bee.