“That’s not for you to worry about,” she said.
“He didn’t mind anyway,” Blue grumbled. “He said he’d send it.”
Granny Eve turned the Thunderbird off the highway. Clouds of dust chased them down the dirt road.
“Sometimes,” she said in a measured voice, “people would rather give you money than other, harder things.”
“Like what?”
“Like their time. Don’t go asking for money when what you want is something more valuable, Blue.”
FIFTEEN
RECKLESS
The next morning, Howard and the twins woke Blue up early with buckets, mops, and brooms in their hands.
“Granny Eve insisted we help you clean.” Jenna yawned as she dragged a stack of boxes to the edge of the room. “I don’t know why it couldn’t have waited until after lunch.”
It wasn’t a terrible job, especially not with company, and after half an hour Granny Eve brought up two plates filled with biscuits and fig preserves. “One plate for Howard,” she said. “One for the rest of you. And I hope you enjoy it because it’s the last of the groceries until someone picks up more.”
With food in hand, even Jenna stopped complaining, and Howard was having a wonderful time making fun of Blue.
“It was a wink!” he said, sprawling across Blue’s air mattress and shoving a biscuit into his mouth. He swallowed. “You almost got blinded by a tiddlywink. I want to make so many jokes.”
“I don’t!” Ida exclaimed. She was trying to rearrange the boxes full of trophies around the window so that Blue would be able to see out. “Blue, what were you thinking? People like us have to be careful! Do you see me with gerbil treats glued to my forehead? No! Because I don’t want to encourage Jenna’s pets to chew my face off.”
“The Gerbellion wouldn’t do that,” said Jenna. “They know you’re off-limits.”
“I was thinking that I’ve had enough of losing,” said Blue. “I was thinking that trying a few board games was better than trying nothing at all.”
He looked around, wondering what to do with his new beanbag chair. Howard had carried it up the stairs, but Blue had a feeling it was another gift from Ida. It was hot pink with yellow polka dots. Not exactly Howard’s style. And from what little Blue had seen of her, Jenna enjoyed exciting colors like white and beige.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t let the neighbor girl talk you into something really dangerous,” said Howard, still snorting with laughter. “Like Go Fish.”
“Howard!”
“It’s fine, Ida.” Blue hauled a box labeled A. MONTGOMERY out of the way to make room for the beanbag. It was a box he’d been careful not to open. The A could have stood for a lot of Montgomerys, but Blue thought the handwriting looked familiar. He didn’t need to see any more trophies, especially ones with his dad’s name on them.
“Howard’s right. It’s stupid for a game of tiddlywinks to be dangerous. And it’s ridiculous to be scared all the time of people picking fights with me.”
“Hey,” said Howard, worry creasing his forehead. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just kidding ar—”
“And I hate it,” Blue said. “I hate that the whole family ignores me because I’m too much of a loser to matter.”
Ida gasped. “Blue! You matt—”
“So I’m not going to do it anymore.” Blue liked that he sounded calm. Steady. Like the kind of person who made important decisions and stuck with them. “Tumble Wilson’s going to help me break my curse.”
The attic fell silent. When Blue looked up, he saw that even Jenna was eyeing him with a worried expression on her face.
“Whoa,” said Howard. “Back up. That’s not a good idea.”
“It’s the only idea that makes sense.”
“No,” said Ida, shaking her head wildly. “No, it’s a horrible idea.”
“You’re not going to do anything rash, are you?” Jenna asked. “Because I’m pretty sure Montgomerys have tried to break their fates before. And I’m pretty sure we would know if it had worked.”
Blue stared back down at the box. At that spiky letter A.
“Blue,” said Howard, in the most serious tone Blue had ever heard him use, “we all know about having parents who are cra—”
“Complicated!” shouted Ida.
Howard rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Complicated. But you don’t want to make things even more complicated by getting reckless.”
Blue rounded on them. “Reckless isn’t bad when you’ve got nothing to lose. Maybe if other Montgomerys had been more reckless we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Ida looked faint. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to be a doormat ever again. Not even for fate.”
SIXTEEN
THE RACE
“On three?” said Tumble.
It was midmorning, and she and Blue were standing together on the dirt road, ready to race. Tumble had promised to give her one hundred percent best effort, but they had agreed she could take some measures to make running more difficult. She was wearing a down-stuffed parka, the frothy yellow dress her mother liked, and a pair of tall, camouflage boots they had found in the twins’ room.
“Snake boots,” Blue had explained. “So snakes can’t get Ida’s legs.”
Tumble made a mental note to fix Ida’s problem as soon as possible. If she wore these things on her feet every day, the poor girl had suffered enough.
The race would be from mailbox to mailbox. To be safe, they’d walked all the way to Tumble’s driveway and back, scanning the road for things that might trip Blue while he was running. He had even glued the knots on his shoelaces so that they couldn’t come undone. As long as he was careful, as long as a meteor didn’t fall from the sky on top of him, he would win.
And Tumble would be one x closer to her own goal.
The thought lit her up like someone had given her a fresh set of batteries. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
“One,” said Blue.
“Two,” said Tumble
“Three!” they shouted together.
Tumble took off, running hard. She’d promised not to hold back, and she didn’t. Even in the boots she was setting a quick pace.
But Blue passed her before they were a third of the way to the Wilson’s mailbox.
Go, Blue. Go!
She didn’t have enough breath to cheer out loud, but in her head, Tumble was waving pom-poms.
■ ■ ■
Blue heard the snake boots hitting the packed sand behind him, out of sync with his own swifter steps. Tumble wasn’t giving up.
But the road ahead of him was clear.
There was a soaring feeling in his chest that didn’t have anything to do with how fast he was running.
What if . . . ? he thought.
What would it be like to reach the mailbox?
What would it be like to make that phone call to his dad? The one where he said, “You were wrong. Everything can be different if I just try hard enough. I don’t need to find the alligator. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I can win. I can.”
I can, I can, he thought with every step. He ran faster. He could see the silver-gray mailbox.
Tumble had to be far behind him now, and every step he took was one step closer to victory.
■ ■ ■
Tumble’s legs burned from the weight of the boots. Her dress dug into her armpits, and underneath her heavy coat, she was dripping like a faucet.
But she was happy, because Blue looked like he had wings.
His whole life would be better once he knew that he was wrong about being a loser, and Tumble would have done something really good. No mishaps. No mistakes. Just her being the hero she’d been training and trying to be for so long.
Then came the deer.
It leaped from the woods, a graceful blur as it soared over the ditch. Tumble didn’t even have time to shout “Look out!” before it smashed into Blue.
The deer rolled. Blue rolled. Dust flew.
Tumble stumbled to a halt.
The deer was staggering upright. It was big. A beautiful orange-red color, with such wide black eyes. So innocent looking.
Without even glancing at Tumble, the doe shook herself off and darted into the woods on the other side of the road.
■ ■ ■
Blue stared at the bloody gash on his shin.
“Yikes!” Tumble hunkered over him. Her eyes were wide. “Does this kind of thing happen a lot around here? Deer just tackling people for no good reason?”
“I don’t think so.” Blue pressed at the gaping edges of his wound. He winced. “I think I’m just lucky.”
“Don’t do that,” said Tumble. She threw off her coat and crouched lower. “Your fingers have germs. You probably need stitches.”
Gnats were trying to settle on Blue’s leg. Tumble waved them away.
“The clever hero is never underprepared,” she muttered. “I forgot my first aid kit, but it’s not far to the RV. I’ve got butterfly tape and antiseptic.”
Blue bit his lip and stared at the rivulets of red pouring down the sides of his shin to stain his sock. He hated to admit it, but Tumble was probably right about the stitches. The gash stung and throbbed, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop bleeding any time soon.
“I was so close,” he said, looking toward the mailbox.
“You were,” said Tumble. “Three-quarters of the way at least. See? You’re not a loser.”
“If it wasn’t the deer, it would have been something else.”
“I don’t believe that,” Tumble said in that way she had. As if she could make the world behave itself just because she said so. “Blue, you can win. You were about to. The finish line is there.”
Blue gazed at the entrance to the Wilsons’ driveway. So close. Just yards away really. “I want to finish the race.”
“You do?”
He nodded. He could feel it, the almost-victory. What if the trick was to keep trying? What if he had kept on playing tiddlywinks with one good eye?
He wanted to know, once and for all, just how badly it could go wrong.
“You . . . probably do need stitches, though,” said Tumble. She looked torn. Blue guessed Maximal Star didn’t recommend letting wounded victims run off into further danger.
“If you can race in that outfit, then I can race with a little cut on my leg.”
Tumble squinted at the mailbox. “I guess it’s not that far.”
Blue was already climbing to his feet.
“Okay,” said Tumble, nodding. “Yeah. That’s the spirit. ‘Falling down doesn’t mean you’ve fallen for good!’”
Blue wondered if she had an endless supply of those quotes stuffed into her brain. He wondered if Maximal Star had ever saved someone from fate itself.
SEVENTEEN
BEAST
Tumble was glad she’d left the parka off this time. Her feet were drowning in sweaty pools as it was, and she was sure she was going to have blisters.
Blue took the lead right away, sticking to the precise center of the road so that he would have time to see any oncoming wildlife. Tumble swung her legs and arms as hard as she could, but she was never going to catch up. It’s going right this time, she thought. He’s going to do it for sure. That’s two x’s at least.
Her lungs ached.
Maybe three.
“No! No! Stop! Heel!” It was a man’s voice somewhere behind her. Shouting.
Tumble heard a powerful bark. She slowed to look over her shoulder. And saw . . . it was . . . behind her, there was a monster.
A dog. Gigantic. A brindle brute made of hungry teeth. And it was flinging itself toward Tumble like she’d rung its dinner bell.
Someone was chasing the dog, but Tumble didn’t wait to figure out who. She shrieked in a very unheroic way and fled. She felt, more than saw, the dog leaping for her backside.
Suddenly, the heavy snake boots were the fastest shoes she’d ever worn. She heard a shredding sound and felt a yank at the back of her dress.
It’s biting me! she thought. Bitingmebiting! Teethteethteeth!
Tumble’s whole body turned into a single screaming need to RUN.
■ ■ ■
Blue heard someone shouting behind him, and then Tumble was screeching, and then, before he could figure out what was going on, Tumble was passing him.
She was a human comet, a blur of trailing yellow ruffles. And a huge dog with brown-streaked fur was snapping at her like it wanted to gnaw her knees off.
Blue’s pounding heart skipped a beat. Then he took off after the dog.
“Run, run, run!” he cried.
Tumble ran right past her own driveway and kept going.
A moment later, Blue saw her stagger. He tried to push himself faster, but he was already running as fast as he could.
Tumble fell. The dog dove.
She was yelling.
Blue was yelling.
Someone far behind them was yelling.
And the dog was diving again and again while Tumble flailed. The dog was growling. It was biting—
“Your dress!” Blue shouted as realization struck him. “It’s going for your dress!”
Tumble was in too much of a state to hear him. Her legs were protected by the boots, but she kept swatting at the dog, putting her hands dangerously close to its teeth.
Blue plunged into the battle.
Tumble reached for his hand, but he grabbed a handful of yellow ruffles instead and yanked. A seam ripped, and he came away with a wad of fabric.
“Here, dog!” he said, waving it wildly at the animal, hoping his spur of the moment plan didn’t get them both mauled. “Here!”
He threw the ruffles as hard as he could, and the dog spun away from Tumble to attack the strips of cloth lying on the road.
Tumble caught on fast. She was on her feet in an instant, tearing more lace and ruffles off the bottom of her dress and throwing them at the dog.
“You’re really cursed!” she said with every rip. “You’re extremely cursed! You are!”
“I know,” Blue gasped, watching the dog cautiously.
It was demolishing the dress.
“This is crazy!” Tumble’s voice had gone shrill.
“I know,” said Blue.
Tumble clutched a stitch in her side with both hands and stared at the dog. It finished vanquishing the ruffles and started kicking dirt over the remains, looking pleased with itself.
“And I won the stupid race! This is unacceptable. It’s not right.” Tumble panted. “We have to fix this.”
“I don’t think there’s a sewing machine on earth that can fix this.”
“Not the dress, Blue! You! You’re really-for-real cursed. We have to fix you.”
He blinked at her. “I thought we were already trying to?”
Tumble coughed. “Right. We were. But now we’re trying way, way harder.”
“Kids!” called a breathless voice behind them. “Kids, are y’all all right? Beast, get back here right now!”
The dog, wagging its tail like it was a normal and well-adjusted member of canine society, trotted over to the man.
He was wearing a pale green shirt so drenched with sweat that it looked like he’d gone for a swim. His round face was frightened and red, and he was wheezing for air. He grabbed Beast’s collar in both hands and held on so tightly that the dog’s front feet lifted off the ground.
Beast tried to lick his face.
“Are you two okay? Did he hurt you?”
Then he saw Blue’s injured leg, which was bloody
from knee to ankle after his frantic run. His eyes bugged. “Good night! Son, you need to sit down right now. You could pass out! I’m going to call an ambulance, or . . . no that’ll take too long,” he babbled. “You just wait here, just wait here and I’ll get help and . . . Miss, you sit with him. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back. Right back!”
“The dog didn’t get my leg,” Blue said quickly.
“No, it was just my dress,” said Tumble.
“The blood’s from earlier.”
“There was a deer.”
“And then the dog.”
“But I’m wearing snake boots so my legs are fine,” Tumble added.
Blue had never seen a person look half as confused as the man did then.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital because of a dog bite,” he tried to explain. “I got trampled by a deer, though, and I probably need stitches. I was just at the emergency room last night, too.”
“He almost blinded himself playing tiddlywinks,” Tumble offered.
The stranger was still blinking at them.
Blue wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his good arm. “Uh, I’m a Montgomery?”
“Oh!” said the man, relief making him loosen his grip on Beast’s collar. “Oh . . . well. That explains it.”
EIGHTEEN
THE RV PRINCE
The next day it rained, hard and fast, and Tumble spent the morning dashing around the house with pots and pans to catch drips. After lunch, she stood in the hallway with her parents, watching a brown stain ooze its way across the ceiling.
“I can fix it,” her mother said with a sigh.
Tumble passed her a casserole dish.
Her mother stared through the dish’s glass bottom. “I was going to use this for brownies when we visit Mr. Goat.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to call him Mr. Goat,” Tumble’s dad replied. He had somehow managed to find another dry towel. He tossed it onto the carpet to soak up the wet. “I think it’s just Goat. Like Cher! But less well known.”
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