Just Lucky

by Melanie Florence

  “Bobby? Time for bed.” Mary’s voice preceded her up the stairs. Bobby’s face changed instantly, and he immediately started shoveling his comics back into the milk crate he stored them in. “Bobby?”

  “Shit!” he whisper-screamed. “Help me!”

  “Oh. Okay.” I knelt down beside him and picked up a bunch of comics. “In there?”

  “Yes!”

  “Bobby, where are you?”

  She was coming down the hall now, and it suddenly occurred to me that it wasn’t the comic books he was trying to hide. It was the fact that he was in my room. I started shoveling them into the crate faster.

  “Just go,” I whispered. He nodded frantically.

  “What are you doing in here?” Mary was standing in the doorway. Bobby flew to his feet as I piled the rest of the comics in the crate.

  “I…ummm…” Bobby looked at me desperately.

  I stood up.

  “I borrowed his comic books and he came…to the door…to get them. And I dropped the crate so he came in to help me.”

  Mary studied me for what felt like ages, then turned to her son.

  “Is this true?”

  “Yeah. Yes. Yes, Ma’am.”

  She was studying him now. She looked like an owl, eyeing its prey. She nodded brusquely.

  “All right then. Off to bed, Bobby. I’ll be in to say goodnight in a second.”

  Bobby took the crate and with one desperate glance back at me bolted from the room. Mary closed the door behind him and turned to stare at me with her owl-like gaze.

  “Lucky, Bobby is a very…special boy. He’s not like other boys his age.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. He seemed pretty normal to me.

  “Okay.”

  “He’s not worldly like you are. He doesn’t have experience with girls like you.”

  Wait…girls like me? This woman clearly thought I was some kind of slut.

  “Look, you’ve got the wrong idea, Mary. We were just looking at comic books. I swear.”

  “I hope that’s true. Bobby doesn’t need anyone leading him into sin.”

  “I’m not. I promise.” What did that even mean?

  “All right. Well…goodnight, Lucky.”

  She was gone before I could figure out what to say. She had basically just called me a whore. Which I wasn’t. Not even close. I liked her son but definitely not like that! I was tempted to go after her but what was the point? Grandpa always said that changing someone’s narrow mind was next to impossible.

  I got ready for bed instead. Maybe tomorrow she’d see I wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought I was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  An Unwelcome Visitor

  I had weird dreams that night. I was hanging out with Batman and Spider-Man and trying to explain to them why they shouldn’t be together in the same dream. I told Spider-Man I had his back. He told me to be careful. He said I was in danger.

  “From who?” I asked Spidey.

  “Don’t trust anyone,” he told me.

  “Well…what kind of danger am I in?”

  “The worst kind. The very worst. Just be careful, Lucky.”

  Before I could say another word, Spidey was gone, flinging himself into the sky on a thread.

  “Wait! Who do I have to be careful of?” I yelled. I pushed a piece of hair out of my face. It tickled. Like there was something working its way through my hair.

  A spider! It had to be a spider! I shrieked and flailed my way awake. The first thing I noticed was Robert sitting beside me on my bed. The second thing was that he had his fingers entwined in my hair.

  “What…what are you doing?” I pulled away from him. He had the nerve to smile at me. Smile!

  He reached for me again, and I flinched away.

  “Stop it!”

  He laughed softly.

  “You were having a nightmare,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “By playing with my hair?” I retreated as far away from him as I could get, pulling the blanket up around me as far as it would go.

  He took it as an invitation and started getting into the bed with me.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  “I’m just trying to comfort you,” he wheedled back, sliding under the covers beside me. I felt his leg press against mine and that was all I needed.

  I fairly flew out of bed, flinging myself over him while trying not to touch him. I got across the room and threw the door open. I was shaking.

  “Get. Out!”

  “Oh, come on.” He grinned, his eyes roaming over me. I was reminded suddenly that I was wearing only a thin tank top and a pair of boxers I should have thrown out a year ago.

  I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Get the fuck out of my room or I’ll tell your wife you got into my bed!” I waited for him to apologize. To get out of the bed and beg me to keep my mouth shut. Instead, he laughed. He actually laughed!

  He lurched off the bed and sauntered over to me like we were visiting at church or something. But he stopped in front of me and grabbed the front of his pajama pants, rubbing himself through the thin material while staring at my body.

  “Who’s going to believe you?” He smiled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A New Look

  I couldn’t sleep after Robert left. I had seen enough police procedurals and read enough books to know what happened in some foster homes. But I didn’t expect it from a family that played church music all day and prayed more than I was comfortable with. But as soon as that thought popped into my head, I remembered Ryan’s family. How they had treated him when he came out to them. I felt a chill go down my spine and I shivered, remembering that sometimes people aren’t what they seem to be.

  Every time I started to drift off, I felt Robert’s fingers in my hair and his leg pressed against mine, and my eyes would pop open again. I kept expecting him to be leaning in the doorway staring at me.

  I tossed and turned. I flailed. I twisted myself into knots in the sheets. And I felt his hands in my hair until I couldn’t stand it another second.

  I opened the door a crack and peered out. The hallway was empty, as far as I could tell. I slowly opened the door farther, willing it not to creak, and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom. I flipped the switch and closed my eyes against the sudden blaze of light. I found scissors in the medicine cabinet and stared at my reflection for a second, doubting I could go through with it. At least until I felt his hands on me again. Then, without a second thought, I grabbed a lock of hair and with a snip, watched it fall into the sink. I grabbed another bunch of hair and lopped it off. With each snick of the scissors, I felt a weight lifting off me. And when I had finally cut enough of it off that I didn’t feel his hands on me anymore, I stared at myself again. I’d fix it tomorrow, but for now? I liked it. I looked like a badass. I looked like someone who wasn’t going to put up with any shit from a creepy foster father.

  There was one more thing I needed to do before I could sleep.

  The stairs creaked as I crept down them. I knew if anyone was still awake, they’d hear me wandering down to the kitchen, but I was past caring. The moonlight streaming through the window lit up the room enough for me to see without turning on the lights. I stepped toward the butcher block on the counter and pulled out one of the knives. It was satisfyingly heavy in my hand. Mary kept her knives razor sharp.

  With a firm hold on the knife, I felt stronger going back upstairs. Braver. I slid it under my pillow and climbed back into bed. Now I could finally sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Saturday

  “He did WHAT?” Ryan was screaming into the phone. “Lucky, you need to tell someone. Call that woman from Children’s Aid. There is no way you can just let that go. He could have raped
you!”

  “I know, Ryan. I’m just going to avoid him. I won’t be here forever.”

  “You don’t know how long you’ll be there. Your grandmother might not get better, Lucky. What if you’re stuck with that guy and you don’t tell anyone what he did? What if he tries it again?”

  “Then he’ll be sorry,” I blustered, sounding more confident than I felt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I took a knife from the kitchen. If he tries it again, I’ll use it.”

  “Oh, come on, Lucky. You’re not going to attack him, are you?”

  “Not if I don’t have to,” I said.

  “Just be careful, okay? We won’t get to have that comic book date if you get sent to juvie.”

  “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

  “Call me later.”

  “I will.”

  It made me feel a million times better to hear Ryan’s voice. Somewhere out there beyond the walls of The Wilsons’ House of Insanity, my old life still existed.

  I ran my hands over my head. I had borrowed an electric razor from Bobby and now had a pretty awesome haircut. Bobby had watched from the doorway until he couldn’t stand it any longer and grabbed the shaver from me.

  “Why are you shaving your head?” he had asked curiously, shaving down one side and leaving the other so that it rested at chin-length.

  “I just want a change,” I told him. I had no idea how he’d respond if I told him it was because I couldn’t stand the memory of his father’s hands in my hair. It was an exorcism. I felt reborn when we were done.

  I walked down the stairs toward the kitchen with trepidation. I had no idea if I was going to see Robert lording over everyone at the breakfast table, and I had no idea how I was going to react if I did. But he wasn’t there. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat down to a plate of waffles and a bowl of fruit salad.

  “So is your friend still coming?” Bobby asked.

  “What’s this?” Mary set a glass of orange juice in front of each of us, then jumped back. “What on earth did you do to your hair?”

  “I cut it. My friend Ryan is coming. Remember, I asked if he could visit?” I reminded her.

  “Right.” She nodded. “Ryan. I forgot.” She puttered off toward the sink, still tutting about girls looking like boys or something.

  “So when is he coming?” Bobby asked. I got the impression he didn’t get many visitors. Or have many friends. Which was too bad because he was actually pretty cool.

  “Tomorrow. He’s bringing a bunch of comics and a DVD for us to watch,” I told him.

  “A DVD?” Bobby glanced toward his mother’s back.

  “Don’t worry. I told him it had to be Wilson-friendly,” I grinned. He smiled gratefully. He may like Deadpool, but he certainly wasn’t going to watch it in the comfort of his own home.

  “All right, you two. Finish up so we can get started on our science work.” Mary put a pile of books down on the table as we shoveled the last bites into our mouths.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Nightmares

  I had put the knife back that morning so Mary wouldn’t notice it was gone. Having effectively avoided Robert for the entire day—it was pure luck he had been away at a church meeting at dinnertime—I actually felt pretty good. But not quite good enough that I didn’t double back to the kitchen later that evening to slide the knife out of the butcher block again.

  Just in case, I told myself, slipping it underneath my pillow before setting my newly shorn head down.

  I was asleep within seconds, dreaming I was home with Grandma and Grandpa. Dreaming we were sitting in his boat, waiting to reel in a big one for dinner while we talked about books and movies and his favorite carrot cake that Grandma was making for dinner.

  I woke up when the bed shifted.

  I woke up to Robert breathing his boozy breath in my face. Church meeting, my ass!

  I scooted back toward the wall, pulling the knife out from under the pillow so violently that I felt it slice through the pillowcase. I held it up, touching the razor-sharp tip against his Adam’s apple.

  His eyes opened so wide, they were more white than blue.

  “Don’t move,” I hissed. He looked like he was about to say something, but the prick of the knife so close to his jugular seemed to have shut him up. “I used to go fishing with my grandfather,” I told him, my voice far calmer than I felt. “He taught me to clean a fish before I learned to read. I can gut a trout in sixty seconds. I doubt you’d take much longer.”

  He swallowed hard, and I watched the tip of the knife poke into his skin slightly.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he whispered.

  I laughed. “Try me,” I told him. “I don’t know how many foster kids you’ve messed with in the past, but I’m not about to let some middle-aged pedophile molest me in my bed. If you don’t get out of my room, I’m going to scream loud enough to wake up your wife and your son, and you can explain to them what you’re doing trying to climb into my bed.”

  He got up slowly, so slowly, while I got up with him, still holding the knife in front of me. He backed out into the hallway, and I didn’t look away from his lizard eyes for even a second. As soon as he was out the door, I closed it and leaned against it. I had been operating on pure adrenaline, but now that it was over, I couldn’t even make it back to the bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Revelations

  I got up the next day, ready to go down and tell Mary what her creepy husband had been up to in the night. Then I’d call Cynthia from Children’s Aid and let her know exactly who she had left me with. I could either let this keep happening or I could tell someone and maybe prevent other girls from being placed with a man who probably had gotten away with things I didn’t even want to think about.

  I shuddered and pulled my hoodie around me as I walked into the kitchen. Mary was sitting at the table, her hands around a cup of tea. She looked up when I walked in.

  “Sit down,” she said.

  “Okay. Listen, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” I began. God, this was going to suck.

  “Oh, I know exactly what you’re going to say,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

  “You do?”

  “My husband told me everything.”

  I was gobsmacked. He told her?

  “What…did he tell you?” I asked carefully, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. She met my eyes, and I realized suddenly that she hated me.

  “My husband told me how you threatened him with a knife.” She spit the words out at me like venom.

  “Did he tell you why?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice calm and not scream YOUR HUSBAND IS A PEDOPHILE at her.

  “He told me that you demanded he give you money,” she said. “And that if he didn’t, you’d make up disgusting lies about him.”

  “What? That’s not what happened!” All semblance of cool was gone. I wasn’t surprised. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit what he had done. But I felt attacked all over again.

  “Oh, he told me everything,” she insisted.

  “Everything?” I laughed. “You think that’s everything? He tried to get into my bed!”

  “You’re a liar!” she screamed. Bobby came in then, his face white. “Go back to your room!” she yelled at him. He was gone before I could say anything to him.

  “I’m not lying. And I’d bet my life it’s not the first time he’s done something like that.”

  “You’re a filthy liar. I’ve called Children’s Aid. Go pack your bag. You’re leaving as soon as she can get here.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” I yelled back. I didn’t even want to be here, but I’d be damned if the reason I was being sent away was on me. “He came into my room when I was sleeping. He touched me. He got into my bed! All I did was protect myself.”


  “You’re evil! Get your bags and wait outside. I won’t have evil in my house.” She turned away, dismissing me. I stood up, shaking, staring at her back.

  “I’ve got news for you, lady. The evil in your house was here long before I came.”

  I left the room before she could say another word. I had nothing left to say. I headed up to pack my stuff before Cynthia came to take me away.

  “Are you okay?” Bobby poked his head out of his bedroom as I passed. I turned and looked at him, not entirely sure he wasn’t going to attack me next.

  “Yeah. I have to pack,” I told him.

  “I know.”

  I nodded and moved toward my room.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he called out. His words stopped me cold. I turned and looked at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you didn’t attack him. You’re not the first girl my mother has sent away.”

  “Then say something!” I begged.

  “He’s my father! No one would believe me anyway.”

  “They’re sending me away!”

  “I know. But there’s nothing I can do, Lucky.”

  “Please, Bobby! You have to say something. What about the next girl?”

  He shrugged, leaning against his doorway like all his strength had left him.

  I shook my head and turned my back on him. I got it. I did. But that didn’t make it okay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Pick Up

  Bobby’s bedroom door was closed and Mary was nowhere to be seen when I came down with my bag. I brought my stuff outside and sat down on the front steps until Cynthia pulled up in her silver Prius.

  She waited until I got into her car and buckled my seatbelt before she lit into me.

  “What were you thinking?” she asked, pulling out of the driveway, squealing her tires as she took off down the street. “The Wilsons are a good family! Do you have any idea what I had to do to get you into their house with no notice? And you attack Robert? With a butcher knife? What were you thinking, Lucky?” she repeated. I stared at her.