by Jenny Goebel
When my eyes burned from staring at the booklet too long, I called to Wink. She came a thudding into the kitchen and then nuzzled my leg with her nose.
As I stood from the table, she excitedly pushed against my thigh. “Okay, okay,” I said. She seemed to have a sixth sense about walks, always knowing when I was about to take her for one without me having to tell her. Now that I’d devoted a decent chunk of time to the first thing on my list, it was time to move on to the second.
Win the spelling bee. Make my birthday wish. Pass the Luck Test.
So what if Felicia never lost at anything? If I studied hard enough, it was bound to pay off. And so what if I’d never blown out all my birthday candles … not even once.
Last year, Dad’s funeral had fallen on my birthday, and no one felt up for cake. The year before that I was in the hospital with pneumonia. When Wink was a puppy, she’d tugged the tablecloth and pulled the cake and all the candles down with it. There were a few years I’d come close, but time after time, there’d been candles left flickering.
My memories almost dragged me down, almost extinguished my drive entirely, but then Wink nudged me with her nose again and the flame rekindled.
No, I absolutely couldn’t bear to be torn from her, and everyone and everything that mattered to me. This year, I was going to blow them all out. And for me to blow out all twelve candles with one single breath, my lungs definitely had to be in tip-top shape. Wink and I weren’t going to walk, we were going to run.
Before we left the house, I just had to do something about the ringlets falling into my eyes. I couldn’t have anything interfering with my vision if I was going to up my speed.
Wink followed me to the bathroom, cocking her head to one side as I stepped up to the vanity and dug out a hair tie and a comb. On the very first swipe, the comb caught in my curls, flung out of my hand, and then slid through a crack in the vent cover on the floor.
It was bad enough that dropping a comb was a sign of a coming disappointment. But when I removed the vent cover, the shaft was too narrow for me to retrieve the comb, so I had to enlist the help of my little brother. Petey stuck his small hand down the shaft, retrieved the comb, handed it to me, and then scurried back to his building blocks after I thanked him for it. No problems whatsoever. The ease and simplicity of it sent a pang to my heart. To slide through life with barely a hang-up, rarely a scrapped knee, scarcely a nuisance—oh, to be a Lucky.
Would passing the Luck Test actually make me one? Was it still possible, even with the seven-year curse? I had to think that it was.
Wink barked to remind me that she was still waiting, and I patted her head. “One more minute, girl.”
I put the comb back in the drawer and used just my hands to secure my hair in a messy ponytail. Then I bustled out the door as soon as I had Wink attached to her leash.
Standing on the front porch, I considered my options. I thought about running behind the neighborhood and through the greenbelt behind the Fiddleman house, but I knew if I ran into Cooper, he’d want to talk. Because I’d stayed in for lunch and recess to redo my homework, he hadn’t had a chance to broach the subject of the broken mirror. And I didn’t really want to give him one.
I glanced down at Wink. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, and she was staring at me expectantly with her one good eye. Understandably, her patience seemed to be wearing thin.
“We’ll stick to newly paved streets, staying close to the gutter. No cracks, no risk, right?” Wink panted in agreement.
As soon as I broke into a light trot, Wink dug her paws into the pavement, pulling hard on the leash. She outpaced my every step. “Whoa, Wink,” I said. She turned her head to look at me, and her eye was so full of joy this time, I felt bad for holding her back.
Between our small, fenced backyard and my never-ending caution, Wink rarely had the opportunity to run. My lungs were starting to burn and my muscles felt tight, but even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t stop now.
Wink barreled forward, so I pumped my feet faster, and for just a moment, I experienced some of her joy. The feeling of letting everything go and not caring. The feeling of just being free. My chest expanded, and my legs felt powerful. I could run forever. Blowing out twelve candles would be simple. How could it not be? I would have my wish, and nothing would be beyond my reach.
I met Cooper on the road just as I rounded the first bend. His face went from thunderclouds to sunshine the instant he saw me. “Sadie!” he said. “There you are!”
“Oh, hey,” I said, barely slowing my feet, thinking I could brush him off and keep on jogging. And I would have, too, if Wink hadn’t betrayed me. She pulled on the brakes and wouldn’t budge as she launched a playful, licking attack on Cooper.
My best friend counterattacked with a scratch behind Wink’s right ear. Truly, it wasn’t a fair fight. Wink was forced to surrender as her back foot starting thrumming uncontrollably.
Cooper laughed when Wink’s good eye nearly rolled back into her head with pure bliss, and I couldn’t help but smile. I wasn’t pretending anymore. My best friend’s laughter and the jogging had made me feel light and cheerful. Plus, the sky was clear, like it had never known a stormy day. I just wanted to freeze that moment and live it forever.
But then Cooper sobered up, and the hasty way in which his face switched from laughter to grim sobered me up, too. “I’ve been looking for you since school let out. That broken mirror …” he said. “What are we going to do, Sadie?”
I opened my mouth to tell him about my winning streak plan, but there was something about the concern in his eyes that made it all feel a bit foolish. I fell silent.
Cooper stopped scratching behind Wink’s ear, then lurched forward and wrapped me in a hug. It was sudden and snug, and more than a little awkward. I breathed in his boyish smell—hand soap mixed with dirt—and felt myself tense beneath his arms. We weren’t usually the hugging sort of friends.
He pulled back when Wink got jealous and butted her nose in between us. Cooper started laughing again. It was a softer chuckle this time but enough to break the tension.
“Sorry, Wink,” he said. “I’ve just been really worried about Sadie.” He caught my eye when he said this, and I felt myself blush. I looked away hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Can we talk? Please, Sadie. We can figure something out. I know we can,” he pleaded.
There was a park nearby. I sighed, walked over to a post near the entrance, and looped the end of Wink’s leash around it. My hands felt sweaty, so I wiped them on my pants. “The swings?” I asked.
Cooper nodded.
The park wasn’t crowded, and we each took an open swing. Not pushing off the ground but not sitting still, either, we swayed back and forth in silence for a few minutes.
“It’s not fair. I’m not supposed to hang out with you after school. I barely get to see you at school. And next year …” Cooper’s voice broke slightly, and I felt a shiver run through my body just at the thought of living at Bane’s. “You have to pass the test, Sadie. You just have to.”
“I know,” I said solemnly.
“Maybe we can set a time and place to meet in secret each day, you know, to strategize. You have no idea how scared I was when you weren’t at lunch, and then I went by your house again after school and you weren’t there, either …”
“Cooper,” I said, coming back to my senses. He’d come by my house? It must’ve been while I was at the Wishing Well with Betsy. “Maybe you shouldn’t be looking for me at all. I—”
Just then a streak of black whizzed by, followed by the blur of Wink’s lighter-colored fur as she went careening by as well.
“Wink!” I shouted, and bolted from the swing. “Don’t!” But it was too late. She was charging after the black cat, and there was nothing I could say or do to stop her.
“Was that—?”
“Yeah,” I said. My heart pounded in my chest as the two forms darted across the park, into prickly bushes, and squeezed out throu
gh the fence on the other side. I tore after them, and Cooper darted after me. I found a narrow opening in the shrubberies and burrowed my way through. Thorny stems dug into my skin as I went. When I reached the fence, I couldn’t go any farther.
The cat and Wink must’ve managed to wriggle their way through a hole beneath the chain links—a hole I couldn’t fit through. I glanced up, looking for another way, and felt like Fate was taunting me: “Come on, Sadie, test your luck. Just see if you can climb it.” No, I couldn’t. It was too high. A fall would cause serious injury, and I could hardly continue the chase with a broken leg.
My best option was to backtrack until I could work my way around the fence. Cooper, on the other hand, had already scrambled halfway up the chain links. Please don’t get hurt because of Wink, because of me, I thought as I wove my way back through the bushes.
I was fuming by then, and tiny droplets of blood were trickling down my arms and legs where thorns had punctured my skin. How could I be so unlucky, or worse, so careless?
When I reached the post, I could see that Wink’s leash was still attached to it. She must’ve somehow pulled free where it had clipped to her collar. Why hadn’t I double-checked?
I had to live my life expecting things to always break and go wrong. But I’d slipped up, and Fate had swooped in again to knock me down.
No, I wasn’t quite knocked down yet.
I ran as fast as I could back through the entrance and caught up with Cooper. He was shouting for Wink at the top of his lungs, and I added my voice to his.
“She isn’t coming. We need to go after her,” I said when Wink didn’t appear. Since neither of us had any clue which direction she’d gone, we opted to split up.
Cooper went left and I went right, and it wasn’t long before I thought I heard faint barking in the distance. Following the clamor, I cut across lawns and jumped over short picket fences. Avoiding the sidewalks, I aimed for as direct a path as possible. Then I heard a loud crash, and a trash can came rolling out of an alley right in front of me. Suddenly the two were back in sight. The collision had slowed them down, but only by a little.
I hurdled over the can. “Wink!” I called again. She glanced back at me but refused to give up the chase. The excitement gleaming in her eye and her tongue flapping in the wind told me she was having way too much fun.
If only I could say the same. On the upside, my chest was aching again. This pursuit had to be doing wonders for my lung capacity. I lost count of how many blocks we’d run, but at last, I was gaining on Wink. She was only about an arm’s length away, close enough I thought I could dive-tackle her in just a few more steps.
I was so absorbed with catching Wink that I didn’t notice where we were. That was until I recognized the fallen iron gate and immediately slid to a halt. Since my breath was already stuck in my throat, I didn’t even have to suck it in.
I swear I heard the black cat purr as she easily vaulted the gate, and Wink bounded in after her. NO! I screamed inside my head. No, no, no!
The cemetery was huge, and within seconds, Wink disappeared from sight again. I backed up a few shaky steps and released the air trapped inside my chest. What was I going to do? My legs continued to tremble as I paced back and forth in front of the cemetery entrance, calling Wink’s name over and over again until I was blue in the face.
I thought about holding my breath and going in, but there was no way I could hold it long enough to fetch Wink and make it safely back outside. My eyes stung as hot tears pooled in the corners. Then a howl followed by a hiss rang out deep inside the graveyard. I ran to the fence, my cheeks puffed out with every last bit of air they could hold, and peered through the iron posts.
Where are you, where are you, where are you? I chanted in my head as I scanned the cemetery for any signs of movement. Would the otherworldly things that haunted the cemetery even bother with a dog? I’d never heard of any animals dying inside, but what if I was wrong?
The sun was lowering in the sky, so the shadows behind each of the grave markers were elongated and distorted. Winged marble angels cast beastly dark images on the far overgrown grass. Tangles of vines and bushes wrapped like ghastly, grasping fingers around the crosses.
I’d never dared to get this close. I hoped to never get this close again.
A small, dark shadow with an arched back scurried across the large mausoleum towering over a far corner of the cemetery. I stepped back gasping for air. Then, without thinking, I forged ahead, keeping my distance from the iron posts as I worked my way around the outside of the fence. I took the opportunity to call for Wink again—praying she’d hear me, abandon the cat, and come crawling back out into the open.
Prickly shrubs cut into my already bloodied calves. Barbed goat head thorns attached themselves to my socks. The area outside the cemetery was as unkempt as it was inside. The temperature was dropping along with the sun, and where my skin wasn’t scraped it was pimpled by goose bumps. My clothes were damp with sweat, and the chill I felt in the cool breeze was bone-deep. Carrying on, I reached the spot just outside the mausoleum where I’d seen the black cat’s shadow.
One, two, three, I counted. I sucked in another large gulp of air. Then I raced to press my face against the fence again. I saw nothing at first—just more downtrodden headstones and overgrown vines—until the black cat stepped out from behind a tall, angular grave marker.
It was the same scrawny thing I’d seen after breaking the mirror the night before. But now that she was standing, I could see that she didn’t have a tail. Well, none to speak of anyway. The nub where her tail should’ve been was approximately two inches long. Good, I thought, but I wish whatever took your tail had taken the rest of you with it!
The cat just stared back at me with yellow eyes and an unwavering glare. She seemed to be mocking me. Barely older than a kitten, I knew it couldn’t be the cat my father had seen over a year ago, but I hated her as if she were the very same.
“It was dark out,” Dad had said the night before he died. “I couldn’t tell whether the darn thing was black or just chocolate brown. Cats do come in chocolate brown, don’t they?” I think he was trying to sound lighthearted, but he was unable to keep his voice from quavering with emotion.
I’d stood frozen behind the crack in the door at the top of the basement stairs. Dad had been hidden from view, but peering through, I’d been able to see Mom standing in the middle of the kitchen in her favorite threadbare lilac bathrobe. Perhaps it would’ve been better if I hadn’t seen her face either—dread had weighed down every feature. Even her curls had hung limp.
“Henri, I … I …” My mom’s voice had failed her. She choked on a sob.
“What was I supposed to do, Caroline?” Dad had said, rushing to her side, brushing a curl behind her ear, a thumb across her cheek. My mom leaned into him.
The sad, broken tenderness of it all caused me to avert my eyes in shame. It was a private moment, and I shouldn’t have been spying. But what I heard my dad say next made my heart clench hard inside my chest. “I promised her.”
Earlier that evening, I’d forgotten my ballet slippers at home. I’d broken into tears the moment I realized I didn’t have them, and Dad had promised to retrieve the slippers while I was getting ready. Warming up barefooted, I’d tried to ignore Felicia’s and Sabrina’s snickering as they performed their flawless pirouettes within their perfect slippers.
As promised, Dad was back seconds before the recital started. His face had been ashen and beaded with sweat, but I’d hardly noticed. I’d merely slipped into my ballet shoes and ran onto the stage. I’d bumbled my way through the recital, and I never would’ve known that Dad had encountered the black cat if I hadn’t overheard my parents talking.
The very next morning, Dad fell from a roof. Fate didn’t toy with him. It went straight for the kill.
An added curse to being unlucky was having to take the more hazardous jobs, the jobs that lucky people could avoid. My dad was a roofer, but he had always been ca
reful. Still, his safety-mindedness wasn’t enough to counter the effects of having crossed a black cat’s path.
When I returned to school after the funeral, my classmates were whispering behind my back. It seemed they all were speculating that he’d walked beneath one of his ladders.
My guilt had been too sharp to correct any of them. It hadn’t been a ladder. It was the cat’s fault, and Dad never would’ve crossed its path if I hadn’t been crying over my dumb ballet slippers. I stopped dancing that day, and I’d hated cats with a vengeance ever since.
So, as the black cat stood staring back at me, still and watchful from inside the cemetery, I seethed. My insides boiled. I wanted to scream bloody murder at her, but I didn’t dare open my mouth.
I willed myself to swallow my hate and clear my head as I frantically scanned the area. Wink had to be somewhere nearby. A black cat had cost me my dad. I couldn’t let one cost me my dog, too.
I kept my ears peeled, but besides an occasional rustle of the wind blowing through leaves, the cemetery was eerily silent. Just as I was about to take a step back and replenish my air supply, something else caught my eye. To the left of the mausoleum and the black cat, and close to where I was standing by the fence, something was sticking out from the bushes. Slender, boney white fingers. A skeletal hand, reaching, stretching, grasping for the iron posts.
This was not the hand of someone who’d been buried in the cemetery. It was the boney remains of someone who’d thought they’d be able to dash in and out while holding their breath. Whoever it was had been wrong. Deadly wrong.