by Jenny Goebel
Jinx purred. I glanced down at her and felt my face stretch into a grin.
“Now why don’t you tell me what you could possibly want to exchange this supremely lucky rabbit’s foot for?”
I’m not proud of it, but my first thought had been to trade the rabbit’s foot in for one of Zeta’s cursed items. A voodoo doll of Felicia Kahn would’ve been mighty gratifying. But then I remembered what Dad used to say about only sinking yourself when you travel down a road of anger and revenge. He believed the best way to get even was to get ahead.
I knew I could never get ahead of Felicia in the luck department, but maybe I could level the playing field a little. For everyone.
That’s why I traded the lucky rabbit’s foot for Zeta’s entire patch of four-leaf clovers.
* * *
When the day of the Spring Luck Test rolled around, I was purposefully tardy. I’d opened my window that Monday morning relieved to find Jinx waiting for her tuna. I spent five minutes stroking her black fur. It was silkier and her ribs weren’t so pronounced, now that she’d been eating well.
I waited for the identified Unluckies in the hallway. I passed out a four-leaf clover to every student with downcast eyes and a dejected stagger to their step. Some of them thanked me. Others seemed too shocked for speech. All of them smiled.
I couldn’t undo the past. Couldn’t change the way they’d been branded. But I could give them a good day, maybe even a good week. And, who knew, maybe some of them would find a way to put an end to their bad-luck streak. Yes, streak.
When I walked into Mrs. Swinton’s classroom fifteen minutes late, she gave me a forlorn look. A look that said, “I’m sorry for you, Sadie. Sorry that you won’t pass the test today.” When I glanced at the seven lucky horseshoes on the board and then beamed back at her with a confident, reassuring grin, I think she nearly knocked over her podium.
Sabrina and Felicia tsked as I walked by. I paid them no attention. I was too busy thinking about passing out the remaining clovers in my backpack to all the students who would need them. Once Mrs. Swinton started her morning lesson and Felicia and Sabrina snapped to attention, it was easy.
The fortunate students didn’t want anyone to mistake them as being nervous, so their eyes never wandered from the whiteboard.
I’m absolutely certain that Mrs. Swinton caught me sliding a four-leaf clover across my desk to Nathan Small, but her lips barely twitched upward at the corners as she continued on with her lesson.
By the time we’d left the classroom to take the test, four-leaf clovers had been distributed to everyone who might’ve had the slightest chance of failing. And Felicia and Sabrina had no clue. It wasn’t until my peers started winning lottery draws and balls started falling on lucky numbers that they had any idea that the Spring Luck Test wasn’t going to go down the way they’d all expected.
Stations were set up around all four walls of the gym. I was directed by Principal Lyon to a table beneath one of the basketball hoops along with a few other students. A roulette spinner sat on my table, and I glanced around to see Betsy being handed a pair of dice at another. A large spinning wheel was being turned at one of the other stations, a ball drop game across from it, and a teacher at yet a different table appeared to be writing down the names of students at her station on paper and then dropping the sheets into a bucket.
I was struck by how uncanny this all felt as the teacher running the roulette table shoved five chips at me. I picked five numbers at random and turned my attention back to the room. To an outsider, it would look like nothing more than a school bazaar, and yet there were so many solemn faces. It was like playing carnival games at a funeral.
The ball was making a thut-thut-thut sound as it circled around the spinner and then finally dropped into a red slot marked twenty-five. “That’s me,” I said, and Principal Lyon’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Well, congratulations, Sadie.” He wrote my name down and then handed me a red ticket after he initialed it. “Hold on to this,” he said. “We’ll be collecting them at the end.”
The spinner was spun four more times, and four more tickets were handed out—two to kids with unquestionable luck, but the additional two to students with green clovers peeking out of their back pockets.
Then we rotated stations, students spinning around the room as if we were ourselves balls on a roulette table. Every time a pair of dice landed on a lucky roll, or a name was drawn from the lottery bucket, or a ball fell into the proper slot, a ticket was handed out.
Solemn faces broke into smiles, and white knuckles relaxed a bit as piles of tickets grew in everyone’s hands rather than in just the students who’d been expecting to win.
So, yes, I could’ve poked a doll in the spine with a needle and watched Felicia cry out and squirm in pain, but that wouldn’t have been anywhere near as satisfying as watching her jaw drop when Betsy beat her at bingo.
Most people outgrow temper tantrums around the age of three. Felicia, however, had obviously never been forced to progress past the toddlerhood mentality. Her porcelain skin turned as bright as a turnip, and she actually stomped a dressy patent-leather flat on the gym floor before storming out of the room.
The teachers were too befuddled to notice—distracted by the fact that they were handing out just as many tickets to students with tattered clothing and bandages as they were to those in pressed dresses with amulets dangling from their necks and ears.
When the test was over, the teachers circled around Principal Lyon. Fingers scratched foreheads, fists were raised, and clipboards were shaken. Mrs. Swinton tittered almost gleefully. Finally, the huddle broke apart, and Principal Lyon made an announcement. “In an unprecedented occurrence, the wins have all been evenly distributed. Not a single student has failed the Spring Luck Test. Therefore, we’ve decided to add an additional class of Luckies. We will have not one but two classes of Luckies for the remainder of the school year. Both classes will move on to Flourish Academy in the fall.”
I was shocked by the roar of applause that followed the principal’s announcement. Simon Swift fist-bumped Nathan Small, and I was reminded that not all of the more favorably fated students shared Felicia’s opinion of the luckless.
She’d calmed herself enough to return to the gym by then. But her eye was twitching, and I was pretty sure she’d replay the whole temper tantrum for her parents later that day when she broke the news. I could only imagine how many calls Flourish Academy was going to receive from the Kahn family before I ever arrived.
For now, I didn’t care, because my superb luck hadn’t worn off yet. Cooper, Betsy, and I were all assigned to Mrs. Swinton’s class for Luckies along with Daniella and some of the former Undetermineds who were all now in possession of a four-leaf clover. Felicia and Sabrina, on the other hand, were moved to Mr. Barton’s class.
* * *
One month later, the Kahns still hadn’t been able to force a retest, and since I’d officially passed the Spring Luck Test, I was allowed to participate in the district spelling bee.
Jinx waited for me in my window well the morning of the bee. I fed her, like I always did, but when she moved to rub against my hand, I didn’t let her, even though the last of my four-leaf clovers had shriveled up and died weeks before. “Uh-uh, Jinx,” I said. “Sorry. Not today. I have something I have to prove.”
The cap came off the carton and I dribbled orange juice on my blouse at breakfast, and the new bike Mom had bought me as a belated birthday present after she’d gotten a raise had a flat tire. I had to walk to the Fortune Falls Plaza for the spelling bee, but that was okay. I just watched my footsteps and made sure not to land on any cracks.
A stage was set up in the middle of the grassy square, and Felicia’s parents were in the audience, staring me down as I took my place in a seat next to their daughter. The rest of the participants were students I didn’t recognize—champions of their own elementary schools and future classmates at Flourish Academy—but all of them smacked of go
od fortune.
In fact, I wasn’t sure if Felicia was more unsettled by my presence as co-champion or by the glimpse of the competition she’d face next year for queen of the Luckies. Either way, she was definitely scowling when Cooper and Betsy took their seats in the audience and held up fingers that were crossed for me instead of her.
The district bee lasted for over three hours. For the final hour, it was down to just Felicia and me, but the rules stated that at this bee, there could only be one champion. Ultimately, that was me. All the luck in the world couldn’t help Felicia spell chiaroscurism correctly.
When the officiator handed me the trophy, the welded-on handles broke off in my hand and the heavy bronze cup slid and landed on Felicia’s foot. Her parents came unglued and rushed the stage.
“Sorry!” I said, but I don’t think they heard me through all of Felicia’s wailing. They were grumbling loudly about needing X-rays as they carried her off the stage. I didn’t think they’d be any happier when they arrived at the hospital and Felicia was treated by a woman whose name tag read Caroline Bleeker, RN.
I’d just won the district spelling bee and that felt better than passing the Luck Test even. This I’d done all on my own, without any charms or luck, and that felt like an even greater triumph over Fate.
I knew that without any strokes of luck garnered from Jinx, I was undoubtedly still Unlucky. But that was okay, and it didn’t seem to matter at all to Cooper and Betsy. They charged me with congratulatory hugs as soon as the Kahns had cleared the stage. At the same time, I caught a glimpse of something small and black streaking past the Wishing Well.
Zeta had been right. I couldn’t really lay claim to Jinx, but maybe what we had was something more. Something like what I had with Cooper, and Betsy, and Wink.
The following year would be interesting, maybe even unbearable at times when I brought my horrendous luck to a school meant only for Luckies. But I knew I’d be all right. I had friends. And friends truly are the luckiest charms of all.
Like many authors, I struggle with perspective when it comes to my own writing. It’s a little like getting ready for a date without a mirror. I can choose my favorite outfit, pin up my hair, and smile brightly. However, if I can’t see my reflection, I can’t tell whether or not I have loose strands, a piece of spinach stuck in my teeth, or if my undergarments (ack!) are showing. That’s when a trusted friend is needed to gently point out the eyesores.
Mallory Kass, my friend and editor extraordinaire, you not only lent your discerning eye to this story—you poured the entire foundation for Fortune Falls. Without you, this book simply would not exist. I am the luckiest of all Luckies to be able to work with such a generous, endearing, enthusiastic, and dazzlingly smart ally.
I’m deeply indebted to the rest of the Scholastic crew as well. It is a tremendous privilege to work with people who bring so many magical books to young readers. And I’d like to give special recognition to the jacket designer, Ellen Duda, and illustrator, Melissa Manwill, for creating such a striking cover.
My agent, Ginger Knowlton, you are such a patient and gracious advocate. For that you have my never-ending thanks and admiration.
I had an embarrassing number of false starts with this novel, and credit my insightful critique partners, Tara Dairman and Lauren Sabel, with finally getting me set on the right track. I’m so glad we’ve banded together, along with all the other fine Colorado authors in our growing bunch. It is a vibrant community, and I glean a great deal of creative energy from it.
Matt, Ethan, Logan, and Lucas, you are my four-leaf clover, my inspiration, my everything. My love and gratitude for you knows no bounds.
I also have a fortuitously long list of family and friends, ever offering encouragement and support. For the sake of time and space, I am unable to include everyone here, but please know that all of your names are written on my heart.
Above all else, thank you, God, for the many blessings, and for designing people with an insatiable thirst for stories.
Jenny Goebel is the author of Grave Images and The 39 Clues: Doublecross Book 3: Mission Hurricane. She lives in Colorado where, if she balances precariously on the edge of her bathtub, she has a lovely view of the Rocky Mountains. She shares this view, and her home, with her husband and three sons. Visit her online at jennygoebel.com and on Twitter at @jennygoebel.
Copyright © 2016 by Jenny Goebel
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Goebel, Jenny, author.
Fortune Falls / Jenny Goebel.—First edition.
pages cm
Summary: In Fortune Falls, where superstitions are real, and all children must pass regular “luck tests” to see if they are worthy, ill-fortuned Sadie has always been deemed as unlucky, and shunted aside for her luckier younger brother—but when she finds an unusually intelligent black cat named Jinx, her fortunes begin to change for the better.
ISBN 978-0-545-81190-3—ISBN 0-545-81190-2 1. Superstition—Juvenile fiction. 2. Fortune—Juvenile fiction. 3. Brothers and sisters—Juvenile fiction. 4. Cats—Juvenile fiction. 5. Families—Juvenile fiction. [1. Superstition—Fiction. 2. Luck—Fiction. 3. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 4. Cats—Fiction. 5. Family life—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.G5532Fq 2016
813.6—dc23
[Fic]
2015029709
First edition, January 2016
Cover art by Melissa Manwill, © 2016 by Scholastic Inc.
Cover design by Ellen Duda
e-ISBN 978-0-545-81192-7
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.