by Paula Stokes
“Why would it be ending?”
“Maybe you’ve paid your karmic dues. Maybe you outgrew it. If things have changed, who cares why?”
“Things have been going better because I’ve been insanely careful,” I say. “I was going on seventy-six days without incident before I hit you.”
“Oh come on, Maguire. You didn’t maim me for life. That doesn’t count as a big enough deal to break your streak. People get hit with balls all the time. Let’s go driving right now, you and me. We’ll be fine, and then you can cross off another challenge.”
I frown. “You would risk your life just to test my curse?”
“Yes.” Jordy tosses the couch pillow up in the air and catches it. “Well, no. I’m confident that nothing will happen. One, I don’t believe you’re really cursed. And two, I’m kind of a golden boy, you know? Things have a way of working out for me.”
I glance from the tennis court in the backyard to the trophies to Jordy’s relaxed posture. He does seem to be leading an exceptionally charmed life. “I’ll think about it,” I say. “But not right now. I should get home.”
“Okay.” He drops the couch pillow and stands. “I’ll walk you out.”
We head back into the sunlight. The street is full of cars. Kimber’s barbecue must still be going strong. “You should go,” I say.
He shrugs. “I might. Just so no one makes a big deal of me not coming. Wouldn’t want my sister to spread any uncomfortable rumors.”
“What did you mean about her being a rebel?”
He leans against the side of my mom’s car. “She likes to push my parents’ buttons.”
“And you?”
“I get the job of diffusing the bombs so the family doesn’t explode.” Jordy looks down at the ground. “Just one more expectation, I guess.”
It seems like a lot for any one person to handle and I’m not sure what to say. “Thanks for your help today,” I finally blurt out. Anything to break the deafening silence.
“Sure.” He reaches out with one hand and gives me a gentle punch in the shoulder. “So we’re on? Shrink-homework partners?”
“Well, I meant your help with my serve, but all right; I guess we can give it a try and see what happens.”
After I get home, I text Jade.
Me: I just wanted you to know that my purity is still intact.
Her: That’s a relief. I don’t want to join the convent all by myself.
Me: He did try to get me to go to some tennis party at Kimber’s house, though.
Her: Probably to try to make you jealous when she hangs all over him.
Me: You really have a bad impression of him, don’t you?
Her: I have two older brothers. I have a bad impression of most guys;)
I laugh out loud, but then a pang of sadness hits me. I think of Connor again, of the eighteen-year-old boy he’d be today if he hadn’t died in the accident.
CHAPTER 13
I wake up on Sunday thinking about Jordy again. I reach up for my mystic knot, twisting the clasp around to the back, for the first time considering wishing for something other than a safe day for everyone. But I don’t do it. I can’t. Other than hitting Jordy with the tennis ball, things have been going well lately. No point in jinxing that because of some boy’s smile.
The smell of pancakes wafts from down the hall as I knock three times on my nightstand and dab my lucky perfume on both wrists. Quickly I mumble, “Today no one will get hurt.” I slide out of bed and recite my Chinese good luck prayer eight times in less than two minutes. I run a hand through my tangled curls and then twist the whole mess up into a giant bun as usual.
My mom is at the stove when I head into the kitchen. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of my special M&M pancakes,” she says.
“You were right. My mouth is watering. Do you need help?”
“Nope. I have everything under control.”
“Where’s Tom?” I ask.
“He’s playing golf with some of his work buddies today. It’s just you, me, and the kiddos.” My mom smiles. “And Jake is sleeping in for once.”
My sister is sitting on the living room sofa watching cartoons. She always wakes up early, so I’m sure she finished eating already. I take my usual seat and toss a little salt over my left shoulder. I slide a couple of pancakes off the serving platter and onto my plate. “Mmmm.” Bending low, I inhale the warm, buttery scent.
“So that was some practice session yesterday. Five hours?” My mom’s voice is light, conversational, but I can tell she’s dying of curiosity.
“We practiced for about three hours, and then we ordered California burritos.” I cut into the soft pancake with my fork. “They have French fries in them.”
“Sounds delicious. So you like the idea of making the tennis team?” She hovers next to the table, picking at the edge of one of the pancakes while more bubble on the griddle behind her. “It was Dr. Leed who suggested you join a team, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t want you to do it if it made you miserable.”
I savor a bite of pancake and then swallow with a smile. “No, it’s fun. I actually learned how to serve. We’ll have to go play again sometime, if you want.”
“I’d like that. Speaking of fun, Tom wanted me to ask if you would go with him and Erin to his work picnic on Friday night. It’s at Balboa Park. They’re going to have food and games, even a live band.” My mom flips another pancake on the griddle. “I’m going to stay home with Jake, but I think the three of you would have a great time.”
Not a chance. Tom works for a big company, and Balboa Park is huge. There’ll probably be two hundred people or more there. Adults drinking, kids running around unsupervised—that’s the perfect setup for a catastrophe. I swipe at my phone like maybe I’m checking my schedule. “I can’t.”
My mom’s face falls a little. “You can take two cars if that’ll help.”
“Well, I have practice and then my appointment with Dr. Leed,” I remind her. “It’ll be after six-thirty by the time I get home.”
“That’s still plenty of time to shower and change. You could go to the picnic later.” Mom sets her spatula down on the counter.
Which would mean drunk adults and unsupervised kids running around after dark. Even worse. “I don’t think so. You know I don’t like that kind of stuff.”
“Maguire, I know it can’t be easy to be in a new place again, but don’t you think getting out would help?”
“I am getting out, Mom. I just need to do it at my own pace.”
She nods. “How are things going with Dr. Leed?”
“Good,” I say. My mom didn’t press me to talk about what happened after the fire, so I didn’t. I don’t know if she thinks I freaked out because I’m the one who left the candle burning (a rare but massive oversight on my part) or if she has any idea it all ties together, that everything goes back to the accidents. She knows I’m superstitious, but I’ve never felt comfortable burdening her with all my fears, especially not after she got pregnant with Erin. And now that I have Dr. Leed, I feel like there’s no point. I’d rather just pull myself together and then surprise her. Look, Mom. Normal child.
“Have you mentioned Ireland to him?”
“Yeah. We’re working on some stuff,” I say. “I promise you I’m trying.”
She scoops another pancake from the griddle and turns back to me. “I know you are.” She reaches out to touch my hair, but I can see the resignation in her expression. She doesn’t think I can do it. She’s given up on me already.
“You know what? I’m not hungry anymore.” Throwing down my fork, I leap up from the table and head to my bedroom. My mom opens her mouth to say something, but then she thinks better of it and turns back to the stove.
Erin peeks over at me with wide, curious eyes as I round the corner into the hallway. “What’s wrong, Mack Wire?”
I force a smile at her. “Nothing. I’m fine. I promise.”
I slip into my room and close the door beh
ind me quietly so I won’t wake up the baby. Flopping down on my bed, I bury my face in my pillow. My mom wouldn’t ask me to go to a work function with Tom if it weren’t something that meant a lot to her. I swear under my breath. If only I could be normal. I look up Balboa Park on my phone. It’s even worse than I imagined, with its streets and ponds and fountains. All the five-second checks in the world wouldn’t be enough.
I sit up and take three deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. I rap three times on my nightstand. A neat pile of library books about Ireland sits on the floor next to my bed. I checked them out to motivate myself, but now I feel like they’re mocking me. I pick up the thickest one and start reading it from the very beginning.
I’m only on the fourth page when my mom knocks gently on the door.
Hopping up from my bed, I stride across the room and open the door a crack. “What?”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for upsetting you.” She looks down at the book in my hand. “You got books from the library?”
“Yeah. I was just curious about the weather and customs and stuff. I haven’t gotten very far.”
She nods. “Can I come in?”
I open the door.
She slips into my room. “Do you resent me?”
“Mom, no,” I say. “Why would you think something like that?”
She closes the door. “You started retreating into your shell right about the time Tom and I got married and I told you I was pregnant with Erin. At first I thought it was just you becoming a surly teenager or the stress of relocating, but sometimes I wonder if you don’t like being around us because you feel like I replaced your dad and brother. I can’t remember the last time we all did anything together as a family.”
Oh, God. I avoid family stuff mostly to keep Tom and the kids safe, and my mom has been thinking it’s because I’m mad at her? “I don’t resent you,” I say. “I’m happy that you were able to . . . get past everything.”
She sighs deeply, as if I’ve just confirmed her worst suspicions. “I’ll never be ‘past everything,’ okay? Losing your dad and brother was horrible. It was like realizing I failed to protect my family, even though I know there’s nothing I could have done. What happened that day affects every part of my life, Maguire. I’m terrified all the time. I’m afraid Jake is going to die of SIDS. I’m worried about Erin going off to preschool next year. I’m worried about Tom when he works late. I’m worried about you at a new school, about you driving places by yourself. Please, please don’t think I just started over with a new family.”
“I don’t, but I didn’t know you worried about all that stuff.” Maybe my mom and I have more in common than I thought. I set the book about Ireland back on the stack. “How do you not go crazy thinking about it all?”
“It’s hard. I try to take one moment at a time. Sometimes when I’m feeling down, the whole world is just one terrible and scary thing after the next. That’s when I try to focus on the good things that have happened to me since then.” She ruffles my hair. “Like seeing the smile on your face when you came home last night.”
Did I smile after hanging out with Jordy?
“You’re smiling again.” My mom sits on the edge of my bed. “Tell me about this guy. Is he cute?”
Kind of. “It’s not like that,” I say. “He’s just helping me because he knows me a little bit from Dr. Leed’s.”
“And that does not answer the question of whether he’s cute.”
“Yeah, he’s cute,” I admit. “He’s got a great smile.”
“I want to see.” She points at the laptop on my desk. “Google him.”
Oh, Lord. That didn’t even occur to me. Jordy “Everyone Knows Who I Am” Wheeler’s whole life is undoubtedly on the internet for public consumption. Reluctantly I grab my computer and type his name into the search box. I click on the images tab and about two hundred smiling pictures pop up.
My mom tries to wolf whistle, but it just comes out like a stream of air. I make a face at her and then click on one of the thumbnails—Jordy in a tux. I blow it up and read the caption. It’s from an Arthur Ashe Foundation benefit dinner.
“Oooh. What a babe!” Mom giggles like a middle school girl getting asked to her first dance.
“No one says ‘babe’ anymore,” I tell her. “But he’s a nice guy, and I’m lucky he’s helping me.”
“Is he a good teacher?”
“The best,” I say. “I wish you could make it to one of our matches. He revamped my serve in only a couple of days. All he had to do was watch me and he realized my toss was off, so he helped me fix it.”
Her body wilts a little. “I wish I could. It’s just that Jake’s so young. I hate leaving a tiny baby with a babysitter I don’t know and—”
“It’s okay, Mom. I understand.” It would be a lot for her to handle, managing both Erin and Jake while watching one of my matches. And Tom is never home until after six, so he wouldn’t be able to help.
“Maybe I can convince Tom to take a day off work.”
“That’d be cool.” I shut my laptop and set it on my bed. “But if not, there’s always next year.”
“Maybe by next year I’ll feel comfortable trusting Tom alone with the kids.” She grins.
“He’s not so bad,” I say. “And if we go to Ireland, he’ll be watching them by himself, right?”
Mom gets that dreamy, wistful look in her eyes again. “Don’t feel pressured into that. I know it’s a lot to ask.” She lifts herself from my bed and glances around the room.
Two walls are all bookshelves. I have over five hundred books, all alphabetized by author. The other walls are blank, as are the top of my desk and dresser. It occurs to me my room looks more like a library than a place where someone actually lives.
“You keep everything so clean.” Mom shakes her head. “You’re a much better kid than I was.”
“You must’ve been a hellion.” I give her a half smile. “Sorry about earlier. I might not make the party, but I’m trying really hard to make that plane.”
“Okay.” My mom brightens, and just like that I feel like crap again.
It’s been two weeks since I started my list of therapy challenges, and I haven’t even completed the first one. I’ve still got a long way to go.
CHAPTER 14
The next week passes in a blur. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are what Coach calls the “official tryouts.” On Wednesday and Thursday, we go through a series of skill stations designed to test us on forehands, backhands, passing shots, drop shots, overheads, and serves. I do okay on all of them. On Friday, Coach has us run three miles to test our endurance, and then we play singles against each other. I win games against Jade, Colleen, and Mae, but I lose easily to both Penn and Kimber.
Jordy calls me on Saturday. “How are you doing?” he asks.
I’m crashed out on my bed, working my way through some physics homework. I set my textbook to the side. “I hurt all over,” I tell him. “I tried to go for a run this morning but didn’t make it very far. I have sore muscles in places where I didn’t even know I had muscles.”
He laughs. “Welcome to competitive athletics. I still have those days occasionally.”
“I hope I make the team.”
“From what I saw you did great,” he says. “I bet you’re a lock.”
“Do you have inside information?” I ask hopefully.
He chuckles. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Well, if I do make it, a lot of it is because of you,” I say. “So thanks again.”
“You’re welcome,” Jordy says. “I like helping people with their game.”
I see an opening. My pulse races a little, but I remember Dr. Leed telling me I need to push myself. “What about helping them with therapy challenges? Is that offer still on the table?”
“Sure. Are you still working on riding in a car with someone?”
“Yep.”
Do you need to ride for a certain length of time? Go anywhere spe
cific?”
“Nah. Maybe twenty minutes. Anywhere you want to go is fine.”
“All right. How does Monday night sound? By then you’ll know you made the team and you’ll have one less thing to worry about.”
“Let’s do it,” I say.
We hang up, and instead of going back to my homework I reach for one of the Ireland books. I flip from picture to picture, marveling at the castles and countryside. I close my eyes and imagine my mom and me there, riding horses across the moors with Grandma Siobhan. You can do this, I tell myself. You just have to be brave.
Monday is the slowest day of school ever because I’m waiting to find out for sure that I made the team. I’m fairly certain I did, but I hope Jade makes it too. I see her once in the halls between classes, but then not again until the end of the day in psychology class.
She leans back in her seat, her feet propped on the chair in front of her. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her.
“Easy for you to say, Manager’s Pet. Have you been enjoying your private lessons?” She licks her lips suggestively.
“Hey.” I bend down and pretend to fumble in my backpack for something so she won’t see me blush. “Coach is the one who decides who gets cut, not Jordy.”
“Oh, relax. I was just kidding.” She clucks her tongue. “You have the best skin, you know it?”
“What?” I peek over at her as Ms. Haynes heads up the main aisle to her desk.
“It’s so pale and perfect, yet blushy at the same time.” She grins. “You always look like you’re in love.”
“Hardly,” I scoff. “I’m just one of those people who always look pink.”
“Uh-huh,” Jade says.
Today’s lecture is about self-fulfilling prophecies—how if a person expects something good or bad to happen, he might subconsciously help bring about the expected result with his behavior. Ms. Haynes shows a video clip about the power of positive thinking, and it reminds me of my daily affirmations.
“This must be the theory one hundred percent of self-help books are based on,” Jade whispers. “Good news. I think we both made the tennis team, so I guess that means we both made the tennis team. Now to start thinking about my starring role in the winter play.”