The Good Luck Girls

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  “Here,” Lady Ghost said, gesturing for them to sit. They all slid onto the bench opposite her. Mallow, Tansy, and Clem were practically buzzing with anticipation, but Aster remained reserved—she couldn’t stop thinking of Violet, whose faith had led them here. Yes, she had led them to Northrock for her own purposes, but she had always believed she’d be leaving them with the directions for how to finish the journey. Zee was fidgeting with his sleeves, looking as uncomfortable as Aster had ever seen him. Maybe he felt as out of place here as Violet had among the Scorpions.

  Aster sat directly across from Lady Ghost. And she, too, had a favor, Aster saw: a trail of faded gemstones dotted her cheek and neck. Doubt crept into Aster’s heart once again.

  Lady Ghost followed her gaze. “There’s no getting rid of them,” she said, answering the unspoken question. “That’s just another part of the myth, I’m afraid. But for most of the girls we help, their favors haven’t kept them from finding other work in Ferron.”

  “Wait.… Ferron?” Clementine’s voice was high, breathless.

  “That’s what we do here—we help girls borderjump to Ferron and start new lives. There are still plenty of wrong-minded folks there—it’s not perfect, I won’t lie to you—but there are no dustblood debts there, no welcome houses, no tenant mines, no raveners, no vengeants, no landmasters. You’ll finally be free.”

  The five stared in disbelief. For a moment they were all silent. The Scorpions were years away from finding safe passage to Ferron, and no one else had even come close.

  “You’re serious?” Clem whispered.

  “I didn’t think it was possible,” Mallow said, shaking her head.

  Lady Ghost smiled. “A lot more is possible in this world than you might think.”

  “Except getting rid of our favors,” Aster said. The words popped out before she could stop them.

  She couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of defeat—they had come all this way to get their favors removed, and now she knew they never would. The prospect of escaping to Ferron couldn’t stop the question brewing in her gut: How could she ever truly leave the welcome house behind when it was written on her very skin?

  You were never going to leave it behind, no matter how far you ran, a small voice whispered back. The thought filled her with grief, which she expected, and relief, which she didn’t. At least, at last, she could stop running.

  Green Creek would always be a part of her whether she wore its favor or not. She couldn’t change the past.

  But neither did she have to let it decide her future.

  “Yes,” Lady Ghost said quietly. “Except for that.”

  “Borderjumping,” Clementine said, sounding uncertain, “does it cost a lot? Because—”

  Lady Ghost shook her head. “Every case is unique. But we never expect the women we help to reimburse us, so really…” She held her palms up. “Whatever you can spare is appreciated. But all you really need to give us is your answer to the question: Would you like us to help you find a new life across the border?”

  “Well, hell,” Mallow said. “I’ll take it.” Tansy laughed. The two turned towards each other for an excited kiss, then pulled apart, breaking into wide grins. Then they turned towards the others.

  “Ferron! We’re going to Ferron!”

  Aster warmed at their excitement. While this wasn’t the dream they had all held on to during endless days on horseback and in McClennon’s cellar, maybe that was just because it wasn’t the dream that had been offered. Looking at Tansy and Mallow, Aster could see this was even beyond what the two had dreamed about.

  “Can Zee come?” Clementine asked Lady Ghost. “We never would have made it here without him, and he’s in just as much danger with the law as we are now for helping us.”

  “We’ll figure something out, then,” Lady Ghost said, smiling at Zee, whose expression relaxed with gratitude. He and Clementine embraced each other, eyes closed. Zee stroked the back of Clem’s head. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. And for a moment Aster’s chest swelled with emotion at the sight of them, all of them, happy and heading towards freedom.

  This was what they’d risked everything for, and this was worth every bit of hardship it’d taken to get here.

  Clem reached out for Aster’s hand, and Aster let her take it as the four started peppering Lady Ghost with questions.

  “What’s life like in Ferron?”

  “Is it true they have voltric trains that run underground?”

  “Will we be able to see a moving picture show?”

  Aster was full of questions too, but of a different kind. Why wasn’t she as excited as the rest of them? Why couldn’t she share this moment? She was still thinking of Violet, but of course so were the others, and that was only part of it anyway. There was more to it. Violet wouldn’t be the only girl they were leaving behind. There were others. Girls whose faces she had never seen, whose names she would never know. Aster thought of Adeline, locked up in a prison cart. They had managed to save her, but there were so many more like her, on their way to the welcome houses or imprisoned within them.

  And the Lady Ghosts will keep fighting for them. They’re not your responsibility. Clementine is. You got her out of that place. You deserve to be free.

  Everyone deserved to be free, though. Everyone deserved to feel this.

  Aster looked around at her friends, all of them too excited to notice that she’d grown quiet, isolated by her indecision. Her stomach knotted painfully.

  If Clementine’s your responsibility, it means you can’t leave her. She still needs you.

  Did she, though? She had Mallow and Tansy. She had Zee. She had herself. Clem had grown up over the past month, as hard as it was for Aster to accept that. She would understand.

  I’m tired, Aster thought. It was her final argument, and it nearly convinced her. All she had wanted, all her life, was to escape the Scab. She could spend the rest of her life in Ferron with the people she loved. It was as sweet as any dream she’d drawn up for herself as a little girl—sweeter, because this was real.

  But then she remembered her conversation with Eli, the truth he’d spoken, his voice soft but sure. He’d said he felt like he owed it to others, no matter how unfair it was that any of them should have to fight at all.

  Aster had wanted to help dustblood women the same way he and his brother helped dustblood men. The Scorpions and Lady Ghosts had already done immeasurable good alone. But if someone could bring them together …

  “I—I want to stay,” Aster said finally, looking first at Clementine, then at Lady Ghost. She swallowed around the stone in her throat. Steadied her voice. “I want to stay in Arketta and fight with you all.”

  “Aster, no. It’s too dangerous,” Clementine exclaimed before Lady Ghost could reply. “We finally made it here, we can’t go back now—”

  “I’m sure, Clem,” Aster said softly. “I’m going back for Violet—I’m going back for all of them.”

  For a moment Lady Ghost’s expression was serious, but soon her smile returned. “Well, if that’s truly your wish, we’d be blessed to have you. But you don’t have to decide right now. I expect you’ll want to sleep on it.”

  Aster nodded, though she felt surer with every passing moment.

  “You must all be very tired,” Lady Ghost said. “Why don’t you let me take you to where you’ll be staying tonight?”

  She stood and motioned for them to follow her.

  * * *

  They spent a week under the Lady Ghosts’ care, resting and healing and preparing for their new journey. A wagon would take Clementine, Tansy, Mallow, and Zee to the border-crossing point the following morning. They’d all begged to know the details of how it would work, how it was possible to cross the border that seemingly no other dustbloods could ever cross—but Lady Ghost simply said that, for now, it was better for few to know the details, even amongst people they trusted. Just in case something went wrong. “But let’s just say that it takes a lot o
f work and bravery, and important connections on both sides of the border.”

  Aster had never known she could feel so happy and so sad all at once.

  Clementine crawled into her cot, and Aster wrapped her arms around her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, Aster?” Clementine asked. “Really sure?”

  Aster was quiet for a long time. Then, “I just keep thinking of how many girls like us there are out there. Girls who aren’t lucky enough to have anyone looking out for them. It’s such a miracle we made it here, Clem. A chance in a thousand. It’s long past time someone evened the odds.”

  “I know,” Clementine sighed. “I’m just not ready for us to go our separate ways. I’ve never not had you.”

  Aster felt a hitch in her breath. A sudden shot of doubt spiked through her. Maybe Clementine didn’t need her anymore, but what if she still needed Clementine? Because Aster knew without question that she never would have survived this journey without her sister’s light to clear up her own darkness. She never would have survived the welcome house if she’d had to face its horrors alone.

  But Aster would have the other Lady Ghosts … and she would have Clementine, too. Time and distance meant nothing beyond the Veil. In some way, on some plane, they would always be together.

  Tears wet Aster’s cheeks. When was the last time she’d cried? She could not even remember. “When the time is right, I’ll come back for you,” Aster promised, her voice barely a whisper. “We will be together again, hear?”

  Clementine nodded, and Aster could tell she was crying, too. Aster held her even closer and kissed her again, and a few moments later they fell asleep.

  24

  Three weeks later

  “You’re sure about this?” the blond woman asked—Robin, her name was Robin, Aster had learned.

  Aster had learned a lot in the last three weeks—she’d learned how the Lady Ghosts were able to sneak girls across the border, and about the fairblood working in a government office who was part of the plan. She’d learned that her bunkmate reminded her of Clementine, and that this was sometimes comforting and sometimes unbearable. And she’d learned just how many risks the Lady Ghosts were taking each and every day they did their work.

  But there were some things she didn’t know for sure and would just have to take on faith because she felt them in her heart: that the others had settled in Ferron, that they were starting their new lives there. And that this, what Aster was doing, was exactly what she needed to do.

  Aster nodded, trying not to look at the needle in Robin’s hand, or the ink at her side—Veil ink, the kind used to create tattoos that couldn’t be hidden, that burned bright when you tried. Her first favor had been nothing short of a violation. They had held her down, they had hurt her, they had left their mark on her forever. But as much as they had taken from her, they would not take her future. This favor would be different. This fight was one she’d chosen. No more running, no more hiding … and no more shame.

  “I think you must be the first one to do something like this,” Robin muttered as she gently cleaned Aster’s neck and face with a cloth. “It’ll certainly set the other girls talking.”

  “The other girls are always talking,” Aster said with a half smile. By now she’d had a chance to meet them all, and soon she would be one of them, doing the work that needed to be done. “Let’s give them something worth talking about.”

  “All right, then, relax,” Robin said, matching her smile. Then she pressed the needle to Aster’s skin. Aster stayed still. It burned, but no more than her favor did when covered. But this—this she would be proud to show. It would represent everything she’d overcome. Her time as a daybreak girl, when she’d dreaded the coming of the light every morning, and her time as a sundown girl, when she’d dreaded its fading. Her whole life as a dustblood, standing in the sunlight without a shadow at her feet.

  No longer would she stay in darkness to hide who she was.

  When Robin was finished, she smiled at Aster. “You okay?” Aster nodded. Robin led her over to the mirror and Aster stared back at her own face. Her skin was a richer brown from their weeks on the road. The scar on her cheek was ragged as the Scab itself. Her eyes were older, but they shone bright with new possibility. She saw not Aster staring back at her, but Dawn, the girl she’d once been, and the woman she hoped to be.

  And there on the side of her face, stretching down into her neck, tracing rays of light around the petals on the edges of her cheek: her favor transformed into a spreading sun.

  Acknowledgments

  The acknowledgments for a debut novel could easily be as long as the novel itself. I have so many people to thank for bringing me to this point in my writing life, and I am incredibly grateful for every single one of them.

  First of all, I want to thank the Dovetail editorial team, Lynn Weingarten and Marianna Baer. You two are mission control—The Good Luck Girls never would have gotten off the ground or survived the turbulence without your constant guidance. I can’t thank you enough for the brainstorm sessions, the pep talks, and the thorough and thoughtful feedback. This is a story about, among other things, the power that comes from understanding your own anger and fear and turning it into something good—thank you for helping me translate mine into these pages.

  I also have to thank my amazing editor Melissa Frain, whose support has been unwavering from the beginning. Just as big a thanks to the rest of the Tor Team—Melanie Sanders, my eagle-eyed copyeditor; Saraciea Fennell, my publicist; and Elizabeth Vaziri, editorial assistant—I know nothing could get done without all your hard work.

  To my other mentors in YA publishing, a huge thank you for bringing me into this world and helping me navigate it. Cheryl Klein—I never would have made it out of our corner of the Midwest if you hadn’t given me the opportunity to work with you and encouraged me to continue pursuing my writing. Jill Santopolo—your guidance has given me so much more confidence in my work, and I never would have had the opportunity to write The Good Luck Girls if you hadn’t pointed me in the right direction. All the thanks to you both.

  I’m equally grateful for my wonderful New School MFA family, who gave me the community every writer needs to stay sane. A special thank you goes out to Darcy Rothbard, critique partner, for reading my worst first drafts, for talking through plot holes with me over drinks, and for answering my frantic texts at 3 A.M. I never could have gotten through this without all of your guys’ help.

  I’ve also had some of the best writing teachers in the world over the years. Every writer says that, but that doesn’t make it any less true! To Mary Klayder especially, I can’t thank you enough for all the love and support you showed your students. You gave me so much courage to speak my truth. And to Mrs. McCormick—the first teacher I had who looked like me and the first one who told me I had something special to offer the world through my writing—thank you for giving this Black girl the hope to dream.

  I never would have made it through these past few months in one piece without the help of my fellow 2019 debuts, and to Kristina Forest and Maya Montayne in particular, thank you both so much for your constant support—I can’t tell you how fortunate I feel to know such talented and passionate friends, and I can’t with to see what you do next.

  I buried myself in research for this story, and there were a handful of books that were particularly helpful:

  The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism by Edward E. Baptist

  Slavery by Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black Americans from the Civil War to World War II by Douglas A. Blackmon

  Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West by Dee Brown

  Wicked Women: Notorious, Mischievous, and Wayward Ladies from the Old West by Chris Enss

  Gateway to Freedom: The Hidden History of the Underground Railroad by Eric Foner

  Sex Trafficking: Inside the Business of Modern Slaver
y by Siddharth Kara

  Girls Like Us: Fighting for a World Where Girls Are Not for Sale, an Activist Finds Her Calling and Heals Herself by Rachel Lloyd

  These resources were invaluable to me, and this story is infinitely better for them. Thank you so much to these writers. Thank you, too, to my patient sensitivity readers, including Patrick V. Brown, who helped me to tell the emotional truth. Any mistakes in the text are my own.

  And, finally, I’d like to thank my family, for all their endless love and support. You’ve been reading my stories since I was writing them in crayon and binding them with staples. This one belongs to all of us.

  About the Author

  CHARLOTTE NICOLE DAVIS grew up outside Kansas City, which was the heart of the Old West once upon a time. A graduate of The New School’s Writing for Children MFA program, she now lives in Brooklyn with a cat with a crooked tail. The Good Luck Girls is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7