Bad Luck Girl

by Sarah Zettel

“Which is to say, not very.”

  He let out a long, slow sigh. “We’ll find our way.” There was a long pause, and then Mama whispered, “How?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Why couldn’t I be asleep? I didn’t want to hear this.

  “I don’t know yet,” he answered. “I wish I did.”

  “Me too.”

  I heard the sound of a soft kiss, and a smile crept into my father’s voice. “Well, I’ll just have to make it come true, then, won’t I?”

  They were silent after that, and I got tired of keeping my eyes squeezed so tight. Slowly, the dark in my head rose up. I didn’t so much fall asleep as slide into a long, dim nightmare filled with voices, all trying to tell me something that would save my life. But I couldn’t understand any of them. It went on and on until I woke up sweating and ready to scream.

  It took me a good hundred or so hard heartbeats to believe I really was still in the apartment, and that the sun was up. But there was Jack still snoring on his sofa, and there was Papa curled up under the counterpane on his half of the double bed.

  Mama was nowhere to be seen, but I heard some soft clanking on the other side of the door. Then I smelled hot butter and heard something I hadn’t heard in months.

  Mama was singing.

  “Let the Midnight Special, shine a light on me.

  Let the Midnight Special, shine its ever-lovin’ light …”

  I got up slowly so I wouldn’t creak the springs, carefully dressed in a white blouse and green skirt Papa’d magicked into being for me, and tiptoed out into the front room.

  Mama had clearly been up for hours. She’d also been busy as a queen bee, working her own brand of magic. That greasy little kitchen was clean as a new day. Ben and Simon were sitting at the table, wolfing down huge stacks of griddle cakes with blackstrap molasses. And that wasn’t all. There was steak and eggs on their plates too. A bottle of fresh milk stood between them along with a battered coffeepot. More coffee percolated on the stove.

  “Good morning, Callie,” said Mama brightly. She bent down, humming, opened the oven door, and pulled out a cake tin. I suddenly lost the ability to swallow and Mama laughed.

  “I suppose you thought I’d forgotten,” she said, setting the tin onto an overturned plate so the cake inside could cool. “Happy birthday, honey.” She kissed the top of my head. “I couldn’t let it go without at least a little something.”

  “How … how …” I gestured helplessly at the table. The kitchen was full of so many good smells that my stomach was ready to sit up and beg.

  Mama smiled. “That nice Mrs. Burnstein downstairs, she told me where the grocer’s is. I’ll send your father around later to settle the bill.”

  “You got credit out of Old Man Grenke?” exclaimed Ben around a big bite of steak. “Lady, you’re a miracle worker.”

  “And you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Mama answered, but she did slide another couple of griddle cakes onto Ben’s plate. Simon jabbed out with his fork, trying to grab one off the top, and Mama smacked the back of his hand with her spatula.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  “None of that!” she snapped back. “You mind your manners, or no more for you.”

  “Yes, Mrs. LeRoux,” mumbled Simon apologetically.

  My jaw dropped open. Mama looked at me. I closed it before I could catch flies. Mama picked up another frying pan and laid another gorgeous, shimmery sunny-side-up egg onto Simon’s plate, nudged the coffeepot toward him, and turned back to the stove.

  “Sit down, Callie, I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  I sat. The table had been fresh scrubbed and the smell of bleach mixed with the cooking smells. There was a lace place mat, and a clean napkin, and a white china plate. I had the wild idea Mama must have magicked the table somehow. Then she slid a couple of fried eggs and a fresh, crisp griddle cake onto my plate and I stopped caring where any of it came from, or who I was sitting with. I just grabbed up my knife, dug into the butter, poured on the molasses, and started eating.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mama wink.

  “Is that steak and eggs I smell?” Papa came out the bedroom door, looking fresh as any daisy. He kissed Mama on the cheek, and sat himself down with a nod at the Hollander brothers. He shook out his napkin and let Mama fill his plate. “Why, thank you, Mrs. LeRoux.”

  Disbelief shivered through me. It tickled. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. With all the disasters past, present, and future looming just outside the door, I couldn’t actually be sitting here having breakfast with my parents. Mama was now taking one of the empty chairs, and helping herself to griddle cakes, and letting Papa pour her out a cup of coffee and add a drop of milk, like he knew just how she took it.

  Jack came out of our room, rubbing his eyes. He looked toward his brothers and froze. He saw, he understood, and he covered it up with a great imitation of one of his jaw-cracking yawns. I gave him a little nod, and he gave me one back and mouthed, Thank you.

  Jack dropped into a chair and forked himself up a couple of griddle cakes and a piece of steak. “Did I hear right?” he asked innocently. “It’s Callie’s birthday?” His eyes kind of slid over Papa straight to Mama.

  “It is,” said Mama. “She’s fifteen today.”

  “Happy birthday!”

  “To Callie!” Papa raised his coffee cup, and the Hollander brothers, made more mellow by Mama’s cooking than all the magic an Unseelie prince could muster, did the same.

  I raised my glass of milk to them. Jack was grinning at me. I felt a blush beginning at the roots of my hair. But before it had a chance to work itself up into a full-fledged burn, the apartment door banged open to let in a stranger: a squat little man with a battered derby on his head and a big, black cigar clamped tight in his lantern jaw.

  “Benny, Sy …” He saw us at the breakfast table and stopped dead. “What the hell’s all this?” Mama puckered her face up, and the man chewed angrily on his cigar a few times.

  Ben swallowed his mouthful of flapjack. “Mornin’, Mr. Sweeny.”

  Mr. Sweeny did not seem to hear. “I said, what the hell’s all this?” And he said it with his teeth clenched around his cigar. My breath hitched up. I couldn’t help it. Papa’d be watching for how the Hollander brothers reacted. If they said too much, he’d know something was up.

  “Ain’t nothin’,” Ben said quickly and I could breathe again. “Me an’ Sy, we’s ready to go, ain’t we, Sy?” Ben tossed down his napkin and smacked his brother’s arm. “Thanks for the breakfast, Mrs. LeRoux. Anybody cooks like you can come by anytime. Come on, Sy, Mr. Sweeny’s waiting.” The brothers grabbed their hats and hustled out. Mr. Sweeny glowered at the breakfast table, chewed his cigar at us one more time, and left with the brothers, letting the door slam shut behind him.

  That was when I noticed all the blood had drained from Jack’s face.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “That was trouble,” said Jack to his breakfast plate. “Sweeny’s a … well, he kept the local bootleggers in line back during Prohibition. Hired muscle for whoever needed it …” He eyed the door, and I knew he was thinking about his two huge brothers and maybe especially Ben’s scarred hands. “Probably don’t want to know what line he’s in now.”

  “Well, we’ll deal with that in its turn.” Mama drank some more coffee. “Oh, and Daniel, I’ll need some money for the grocer.”

  Papa chuckled and shook his head. “Margaret, you are a wonder. The whole of the fae world is after us, and possibly a portion of the human world too, and you’re worried about the grocery bill.”

  “Daniel, I will not have us leave town owing. Besides, if I can’t produce a dinner for Benjamin and Simon, they may forget about being so polite about having us to stay.”

  I waited for Papa to tell her what we’d done to them, but he just shrugged elaborately and gave a long sigh. “Well, what can I say to that?”

  “You say ‘yes, dear,’ ” Mama replied promptly
.

  Papa kissed her cheek. “Yes, dear.”

  I felt strange. I’d never had this before, a minute to sit at the table with my family, my whole family, and Jack. To sit and eat and talk, and just … just be. I wanted to sink into it and be happy. Last night didn’t mean so much after all. Neither did what had been done, and undone, with the Hollander brothers. Papa had to be careful, didn’t he? He was just trying to look out for me and Mama. That was what he was supposed to do. If he went a little overboard, that was okay. It was all fixed now. I wanted to believe that. I almost did believe it. Because right here was everything I’d wanted for so long. I glanced over at Jack. Almost everything, anyway.

  Jack, on the other hand, had gone kind of quiet. He kept watching my parents like he was hoping no one would notice him watching. I knew this couldn’t be comfortable for him, having my folks sitting here smiling at each other when he’d found out only yesterday his folks were dead. I just didn’t know what to do about it.

  “Now,” said Papa as he filled his coffee cup, yet again. Who knew fairy princes liked coffee so much? “We have a safe haven that should last us a few days. But we do need to move on from here, and to do that, we need two things.” He blew on the coffee and sipped. “First, we need to find out what the situation is between the courts, so we know who’s on our tail and how close they are. We also need some ready money for when we get to New York.” Papa said this last directly to Mama. “There are people I want to talk to about the first, and as for the second …” He smiled. “Fortunately, Chicago is well situated to supply a musician with paying work. I should be able to find a club that will pay for a night’s playing. Both these things, though, mean I have to be out and about today.” He took another swallow of coffee and set the cup down on the saucer with a sharp click. “I had thought to ask you all to stay inside while I’m gone, but it occurs to me that would be a rather naive request.” I started blushing again, but for an entirely different set of reasons. “So, if any of you do go out, I ask you to take this with you.”

  Papa reached in his pocket and brought out a handful of what looked like marbles and laid them on the table. It wasn’t until I picked one of the glass-and-gold spheres up that I saw it shone gently with the light of the fairy lands.

  “What is it?” asked Jack, turning one marble over in his fingers. They were just a little warmer than they should have been, and just a little lighter than if they’d really been glass.

  “Think of it as a bit of wish made solid.” Papa picked up the last one, laid it in Mama’s palm, and wrapped her fingers around it. “If you are in trouble, or if you believe I might be, break it. I will be drawn to you.”

  My parents sat there for a long time like that, looking at each other like they’d forgotten Jack and I were in the room. I could almost feel the promise flowing between them. I was sure Papa was really saying, I won’t vanish this time. I won’t let them trap me away from you ever again.

  Jack, on the other hand, looked at his wishing marble like it had started going bad a few days ago. But he did slide it into his pocket. “Thanks.”

  I thought about asking Papa whom he planned to talk to, but decided against it. I really didn’t want to hear him not answering one of my questions again. I wanted to keep the good feeling that surrounded us. I put my marble in my skirt pocket.

  “Excellent.” Papa stood up. “I’ll be back in time for supper.” He gave Mama an extra-long kiss. When at last he could stand to break away, he winked at me and picked up his hat, settled it low over his forehead, and left us there.

  “Well.” Mama got up from the table like she couldn’t stand sitting still anymore, which she probably couldn’t. I found myself wondering about the last time he’d left her, back before I was born, and what he’d said then and how she’d felt. “If you two will help me with these dishes, we’ll have this all cleared up in two shakes.”

  We did. None of us said anything much. Mama just hummed and cleaned, like with enough noise and soapsuds, she could fill the hole made by my father’s leaving.

  Finally, we got the last dish dried and put away, and the dish towels all neatly hung up. Jack, though, took an extra-long time drying his hands on the last one.

  “Listen, Callie, Mrs. LeRoux … I gotta go take care of some … stuff.”

  “You want me to come with you?” I asked immediately. The thought of being left alone with Mama was suddenly driving something close to panic under my skin.

  “Uh, no,” said Jack without even looking at me. “I just gotta … I’ll see you at supper, okay? Thanks for the breakfast, Mrs. LeRoux. It was terrific.”

  And Jack was gone too. The door shut behind him as solidly as it had behind Papa. I couldn’t believe Jack had just gone and left me like that. He didn’t even try to come up with an explanation. Worry settled in. He was mad at Papa, and at me. Just how mad was he? And what was he gonna do about it? Jack was the person I knew best in the world, or at least that’s what I’d thought. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  None of this was helped by the fact that I was alone with my mother for the first time since this whole long nightmare began. As soon as I turned around, I’d have to say something to her, and I had no idea what it should be. I had too many feelings jumbled up inside me, and not one of them would settle down enough for me to take hold of. The longer I stood there, the less I wanted to turn around at all.

  “Oh, Callie,” Mama breathed. “Just look at you.”

  I was sure she meant look at your skin, how brown it is. Look at your hair, all kinky and woolly and black. Look at all my work to make you into a white girl undone.

  “You’ve grown into such a fine young lady while I’ve been away.”

  I about choked on my own thoughts. “You think so?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  We were silent again. Slowly, I realized there was only one thing I really wanted to say to her. It was the one question that had been boiling inside me since this whole long nightmare began. Until I asked it, I wasn’t ever going to really sort out any kind of understanding of my life, or hers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? About Papa?”

  Mama let out a huge sigh. The strength seemed to leave her with all that breath, and she sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “Callie, you can’t imagine how many times I’ve asked myself the same question.” Slowly, she ran her thin hands across her hair, slicking it down and away from her creased-up forehead. “For a while I told myself you were just too young. Then I told myself that you were already keeping so many secrets, it wasn’t fair to ask you to carry one more. After that I told myself if he never came back … if he never came back …” She shook her head and stared down at her fresh-scrubbed table. “But the truth is, I thought if you knew about them … about the king and queen and the Midnight Throne, that you had magic inside you, you’d want to find them.” She lifted her tired eyes. “I was afraid you’d leave me, Callie.”

  I wanted to throw my arms around her. I wanted to hug her and say it was okay. We were together now and I’d never leave her alone.

  But I didn’t do any of those things. I couldn’t. There was a whole well of anger inside me, and I didn’t know where it came from or what it was doing there. But it bubbled up until I was full to overflowing just from looking at my skinny, worn-out mother sitting in this borrowed kitchen.

  “You lied so you could keep hold of me,” I croaked. “You’re just like the rest of them.”

  “No, Callie, never. I …” She stopped. She didn’t look at me. She plucked at a tear in the lace place mat, trying to get the edges to match up. “When I was little, there was a girl I went to school with … Rebecca Swenson. Her father was a no-good. Always on the bum. This was before the depression, you understand, when being out of work wasn’t something that just … happened to a man. Mr. Swenson would come back every so often, take her mother’s money, knock her around a bit, and run off again. Everybody knew about it. My parents felt sorry for Becky. Mother would let her work i
n the kitchen for a little money, and regular meals.

  “But … Becky would spin these stories about her papa being a traveling man, and how he was off in some big city, like Memphis or New York. Whenever she got something new, a ribbon or new shoes—and it wasn’t often—she’d parade around telling everybody how her father had sent her the present. It got to the point where she really believed what she was saying. It made me angry to hear her going on about it. I don’t know why, exactly, but it did. One day … one day I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I yelled at her to stop it. I told her that her father was a bum and everybody knew it, and the reason he wasn’t home was that he was probably dead in a ditch. I’ll never forget the look on her face.…” Mama’s voice wavered. “She ran out of the kitchen, and I never saw her again. No one did. At least, they never said. I think … there were rumors … she’d killed herself.” She stopped. “That day you turned on me, when you yelled at me, that I was crazy … all I could think of was Becky and how she’d talked herself into believing her own lies about her father. I was afraid … I was afraid I’d done the same thing. That I really was crazy, that I really had killed you by keeping you in the dust.” She lifted her eyes. “That’s why I had you play the piano and break the protection. I had to know if it was real or if I’d … if I’d just …”

  She was trying. I felt it. Now, in this little space of time where there was just me and her. She was trying to explain and to say she was sorry. I wanted to forgive her, right then and all at once. I hated the anger that was all knotted up inside me. But it had been there for so long and had been built up so big over years of wishing and wondering and being afraid that it wasn’t going to shift itself anytime soon, not for all my wishing, or hers.

  But at least she was ready to talk. I shuffled my questions around in my mind, with more than a little guilt, because I knew I was trying to pump her for information, like Jack had tried to with Papa.

  “Did he tell you anything about … about the Unseelies?”

  “Not much. He had to show me enough magic to prove what he said, of course, and he did his best to explain that his people were powerful, and that he had to make a clean break with them or there would be more complications to a situation that was already more than a little complicated.” Her smile was weak and had no warmth in it at all.