by P. J. Night
“I don’t think I should,” said Charlotte. “I mean, I can’t really explain why. I know it’s silly of me. Is it silly?”
“Yeah,” Lauren replied bluntly. “The card was probably inside that old book for ages. Whoever wrote that message on the back of it is probably an old person. They might even be dead by now.”
Charlotte drew in her breath in alarm.
“Okay, wrong thing to say. My point is, there’s no way the person who wrote that on the card could also be texting you. Someone you know must be messing around with you.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Charlotte uncertainly.
“Listen, if it will make you feel better, you can give the card to me, okay? Then I will throw it away and accept the consequences. I’m the daughter of a scientist, so it’s in my DNA—I don’t have a superstitious cell in my body. Since I don’t believe in this stuff, it will have no effect on me. Sound good?”
Relief washed over Charlotte. “Okay, thanks. If you are sure you don’t mind.”
“I definitely don’t mind,” said Lauren. “Now I have to get going. My dad is trying to reheat something in the microwave, and I have to make sure he doesn’t blow up the kitchen.”
Charlotte tossed and turned much of that night. Who was it that had sent that text? Who else knew about it? Could Stacy have somehow sent it? Charlotte was thinking back to the events of the previous day when suddenly she jolted upright.
Stacy had been in possession of the card yesterday. Lauren had told her about Stacy borrowing her science notebook. Charlotte flashed back to when Lauren had found the card she’d thought she’d lost. It had been inside her science notebook. The one Stacy had borrowed.
She remembered how Stacy had showed up late for gym. How she had missed so many free throws. How she’d had an allergic reaction to something at lunchtime. Was all that bad luck because she’d had the card with her?
I really am acting silly, she thought. This is anxiety stuff. Charlotte often got this way. She was a middle-of-the-night worrier. Almost always, when she’d fretted about something, she would wake up in the morning and realize how silly she’d been. But right now, Charlotte couldn’t ignore the ominous thoughts. The card was a jinx. The person who wrote the message on the back cursed it so it brought bad luck to whoever had it. Should she really pass the card to Lauren, now that she was growing increasingly certain that it brought bad luck? What had Lauren’s aunt said? Maybe the Wheel of Fortune card just changed a person’s luck. Maybe if that person were having bad luck, and came into possession of the card, the person’s luck might change to good luck.
Maybe she was simply rationalizing the problem away. After all, most Wheel of Fortune cards probably didn’t have some crazy message scrawled on them by who knows who.
The next morning, when she woke up, Charlotte felt much less anxious about the card. She was certain she was just being silly. If Lauren didn’t care, neither did she.
Her mother was sitting glassy eyed at the kitchen table when Charlotte emerged for breakfast. Her eyes were puffy, as though she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Charlotte asked quickly, barely daring to breathe. “Is Daddy okay? Did you hear something?”
Charlotte’s mom closed her eyes and drew a long breath in. Then she let it out quickly. “He’s fine, honey. I heard from him late last night, after you were asleep. He’s fine, but he’s not coming home as early as we thought. It looks like it might be another—” She swallowed, gathered herself. “Another two months.”
Charlotte sat down heavily in a chair, absorbing the horror of this news. Then her mind turned to the card. Maybe all that middle-of-the-night anxiety hadn’t been so silly. Maybe the card really was doing this. It had to be. It brought bad luck to whoever had it.
Well, Lauren had agreed to take it, she thought. Time to pass it along . . . for good.
Chapter 9
That day at lunch, Charlotte slid the card across the table to Lauren. There hadn’t been any time in homeroom, and they didn’t want Stacy anywhere near them when they did the exchange.
“What’s that?” asked Gwen, who was sitting next to Lauren.
“Nothing,” both girls replied at almost exactly the same time.
Gwen glanced at the card, shrugged, and went back to chatting with Cassie on her other side.
“Are you sure about this?” Charlotte spoke to Lauren in a low voice, just loud enough for Lauren to be able to hear over the din in the cafeteria. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Stop being a dork,” scoffed Lauren, picking up the card and shoving it into her backpack. “The card is nothing. Okay?” Lauren reached across the table and broke off a piece of Charlotte’s cookie. “Anyway, if you really—” She coughed. Then she coughed again. Her face turned pink.
“Laur? You okay?” asked Charlotte, springing out of her chair.
Lauren was now coughing harder. Gwen wheeled around and banged Lauren on the back. Lauren grabbed her milk and took a big sip.
“I’m fine!” she sputtered. “You can stop whacking me now!”
“Sure you’re okay?” asked Gwen worriedly.
“I’m fine. Really. Everyone turn around and go back to what you were doing,” said Lauren through gritted teeth. “I’m already trying to live down the fruit fly thing. I don’t need the whole school watching you perform the Heimlich maneuver on me.”
Gwen laughed and turned back to Cassie.
Charlotte sat back down, still regarding her friend warily.
“I’m okay, really,” said Lauren, slightly irritably. “I just breathed in a piece of cookie is all.”
At play rehearsal that afternoon Lauren delivered the wrong line at the wrong place, causing them to have to skip a whole scene.
“Lauren,” said Mr. Thompson, the director. “Please don’t do that again. All right, start from the top of scene three, everyone.” He massaged his temples as though his head was throbbing.
After rehearsal, as Lauren was hurrying to catch the late bus, she got her necklace hooked to her locker, and when she closed the door, it exploded into an avalanche of bouncing beads. By the time she’d collected most of them, she’d missed the bus home from school.
She texted her father at work.
Missed the bus. Walking home. Everything fine. I’ll walk Teddy. See you at dinner?
There was no immediate answer from her dad, so she started walking home. It was a beautiful September afternoon, and the warm, late-summer sun cast a golden light on the trees and the sidewalk. Really, she thought, I ought to walk home more often. Except that poor Teddy will be anxiously waiting for me when I get home.
A minute or so later her phone buzzed. She flicked it on, assuming it was her dad. But it was from an unknown number—a number with thirteen digits.
You should not have taken the card. Fear for yourself. And for your dog.
She stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the text. An elderly lady pushing a shopping cart rammed into her from behind.
“Watch what you’re doing, young lady!” she barked at Lauren, muttering about newfangled gizmos as she continued on her way.
“Sorry!” Lauren said absently. She looked again at the text. It couldn’t possibly be from Charlotte. But who else knew about the card? Hadn’t Charlotte mentioned that she, Charlotte, had gotten a weird text? This was a little odd, she was forced to admit. Could it be Stacy? Stacy didn’t even have Lauren’s phone number. Still, she could have easily gotten it from someone.
Threatening her was bad enough. But threatening her dog?
A feeling of dread passed over her. It was too much of a coincidence that she’d just texted her dad about Teddy and that someone had then threatened to hurt him. Was someone somehow hacking into her phone? What an awful thought. It was probably just some annoying kid being a jerk, but still.
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Teddy.
She broke into a run. By the time she got home, she was completely out of breath and half-hysterical with worry.
“Teddy? Teddy!” she bellowed, throwing open the side door and practically falling inside.
For a second all was quiet. And then she heard a thump above her and the jingle of a collar. Teddy came padding down the steps, tail wagging, tongue out.
“Hey, buddy,” she said, stooping down and letting him nuzzle her all over her face, her head, her neck. She threw her arms around his neck. “You’re okay, aren’t you, boy? Of course you are.” She stood up and grabbed his leash off the hook. “Come on. We’ll go for a walk.”
As they headed out the door, Lauren paused a minute. She stepped back inside and fished through her backpack until she found the card.
“I still don’t believe it,” she said out loud. Teddy looked up at her and cocked his head to one side, as though trying to understand her. “But why take unnecessary risks? Let’s get rid of this.” As they headed down the path, she tossed the card into the outside garbage can.
Later, as Lauren was putting a pot of water on the stove for pasta, she got a call from Charlotte.
“Is everything okay?” asked Charlotte anxiously.
“Of course,” said Lauren, putting a lid on the pot and turning on the gas. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Um, no reason,” said Charlotte.
“Are you still worried about that dumb card?” asked Lauren.
“Okay, yeah, a little.”
“Well, no need to worry,” said Lauren. “I chucked it.”
Charlotte was quiet for a moment. “Okay. I guess. I hope that’s the end of it.”
Lauren heard her dad’s key in the lock. “Dad’s home. Gotta go,” she said, and they hung up.
“Hey, Laur!” said her dad, plunking down his heavy shoulder bag and stepping over to give Lauren a big hug. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept well in days. “What’s for dinner? I’m starved. I think I forgot to eat lunch today.”
Lauren smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing you have me around to remind you to eat and sleep. It’s spaghetti from a box and sauce from a jar. My specialty.”
“School go okay today?” he said, moving over to the stove and opening the lid on the spaghetti sauce.
“Yeah, it was good. I kind of whiffed in rehearsal, though. Skipped a whole scene.”
“That’s nice, honey,” said her dad, who obviously hadn’t heard a word she said. Lauren shook her head. She was used to her dad’s forgetfulness. He was always thinking about his work, or his classes, or—
Suddenly they heard a yelp.
“Teddy?” they both said at the same time. They rushed into the other room.
“Teddy!” shrieked Lauren, flying over to where the little dog was standing next to the couch. He whimpered and tried to walk toward her, his little stumpy tail wagging feebly, but his front paw was curled under awkwardly.
Her dad had also rushed over, and he crouched at Lauren’s side, examining Teddy. He picked him up gently. “Looks like he might have broken his leg,” he said grimly. “Get me a couch cushion, a small one.”
Lauren grabbed a cushion and handed it to her father, her eyes wide with horror.
“Probably landed funny when he jumped off the couch,” said her dad. “Turn off the stuff on the stove, okay? Then find my keys and my wallet. I think they’re in my jacket pocket. You can call Dr. Stone from the car and let him know we’re on our way.”
Two hours later, Lauren and her dad were heading home from the vet. Teddy lay on the cushion in Lauren’s lap, apparently still woozy from his procedure. His front right leg had been shaved of all its fur well past his elbow, and his lower paw was encased in a bright red cast. She stroked him gently.
“Poor little guy,” said her dad, reaching out a hand to pet the little dog. “Such a freak accident, too. He’s jumped off that couch about a thousand times. Guess this was just an unlucky day for him.”
Lauren was lost in thought. She was thinking about the card. She was thinking about the text she’d gotten. How it had threatened her dog. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but it couldn’t be just a coincidence. It’s not as though someone could have been in the house and pushed him off the couch. Of course it could all just be nothing more than random bad luck. But still. She was thinking that maybe the change in fortune Aunt Marina had talked about wasn’t just a bunch of superstitious nonsense after all.
Later, after they’d finally had their dinner and her dad had retired to his office to grade papers, Lauren slipped outside with a flashlight. She opened the lid to the trash can and shined the light inside. Luckily, the card was sitting right on top and she didn’t have to do any digging through the trash.
She fished it out and put it into her pocket. Then she tiptoed back inside.
Upstairs in her room she studied the card under the light of her reading lamp. She turned it over, reading and rereading the message scrawled across the back. It looked as though it had been written so very long ago. The ink was faded and scratched in some places. She thought about the threatening text she’d gotten. There was no way the texter was the same person that had written this message on the back of the card. That texter had to have been some kid hacking her phone, and Teddy’s accident was just bad luck. Because no one pushed Teddy off the couch.
And yet, Lauren couldn’t deny it. Despite her logical and analytical mind she could not deny that this card really did seem to bring the bearer bad luck. It was too much of a coincidence that when she’d gotten the card back from Charlotte at lunch, she’d almost immediately choked on a bite of cookie. And then she’d skipped a scene at play practice. And broken her necklace. And missed the bus. And—poor Teddy. She shivered. Then she sat, lost in thought, for quite some time.
By the time she was ready for bed, she’d come to a decision. She was going to slip the card into Charlotte’s backpack the next day, without Charlotte knowing. After all, it was Charlotte’s card.
Chapter 10
The next day in science, Charlotte’s teacher, Mr. Madden, walked around the classroom, passing back tests. He placed Charlotte’s gently on the desk in front of her, face down. Charlotte didn’t like the look he gave her. Somewhere between bewilderment and disappointment.
Slowly she turned it over. A seventy-six? On a science test? She quickly put it back down on the desk, her ears burning, her mouth dry. This was the worst grade she’d gotten, possibly ever. She turned it back over and looked at it quickly. Oh. She had switched around the formulas for weight and acceleration. How could she have done something like that?
At lunch Charlotte was heading toward her table carrying her lunch tray, her heavy backpack on her back, when her right foot stepped on a slippery patch on the floor. Her foot slid forward, causing her to lose her balance and fall backward.
Crash!
Applause.
Humiliation, as a teacher and a girl she didn’t know helped her to her feet and began picking up the spilled contents of her tray.
Lauren and Gwen and Cassie and several others from her lunch table helped get her another lunch and were really nice about it of course, but Charlotte noticed that Lauren had a weird look on her face. An anxious look.
There were no further mishaps that afternoon, until English class, which was the last period of the day. During the second half of class they watched part of the film of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Ms. Zarchin paused the film at the end of act 2, and turned on the lights.
“We can watch more on Monday,” she said. “Charlotte, would you mind bringing the DVD back to the library? The bell’s going to ring in a few minutes, so you had better pack up your things so you can head directly out to your bus after that.”
Charlotte packed up and took the DVD from Ms. Zarchin.
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nbsp; The library was on the first floor, but her English class was at the end of a very long wing, so it was a good hike from her classroom. The bell hadn’t yet rung, and the hallways were still empty.
Mrs. Barber, the school librarian, was just putting on her sweater when Charlotte came in. “Oh, hello, Charlotte,” she said. “I’m on bus duty this afternoon. What do you need?”
“Just returning the DVD,” said Charlotte.
“Lovely.” She took the DVD and scanned it into the system, and then handed it back to Charlotte. “Can you put it in the AV room on the ‘To be Reshelved’ cart? I’m late already. Then be sure to lock the door when you leave—DVDs have a way of walking off!”
Charlotte promised she would, and Mrs. Barber hurried away.
The light switch was outside the room. Charlotte flicked it on and walked in, threading her way through carts of projectors and televisions toward the back wall, where the DVDs were kept. She’d just set the DVD on the cart when her phone buzzed. It was a text.
I told you to pass it on.
Her stomach dropped and a bolt of fear shot through her. She was still staring at the text on her phone when the door suddenly swung closed. Then the light went out.
“Hey!” yelled Charlotte, moving toward the door and immediately bashing her hip against a rolling cart. “Ow! Hey! I’m in here!” Her voice came out thin and high and panicky.
Whoever had closed the door either didn’t hear her, or ignored her.
It was pitch-dark. Like black construction paper. No light whatsoever.
“Don’t panic,” Charlotte muttered to herself, but already she could feel her heart racing, her palms sweating. “Just get to the door. Open the door. Everything will be fine.”
Then she remembered her cell phone. She could use it as a flashlight! With trembling hands she clicked it on. A dim but usable light emanated from its screen, allowing her to see her path to the door. She held it up with a shaky hand, so it could illuminate her way.