Just My Luck Page 8

  Janie laughed.

  “You know you look good today, Janie,” Cliché said.

  “Yeah,” Sophia nodded, “did you brush your hair or something?”

  “No, I gave it a mayonnaise treatment last night.” Janie touched her hair. “My Aunt Monica says it’s a good conditioner.”

  “Okay,” Cliché said. “Now you just made it weird.” Cliché and Sophia got up, giggling as they returned to their seats.

  “Save me a spot at your booth on Saturday, Janie.” Sophia sat.

  “Yeah, me too, Janie.” Cliché sat.

  Janie beamed.

  “Your hair looks good, too,” Cliché said to Sophia.

  “I know. That’s what everybody says,” Sophia held her palms face up. “I use Miracle Whip.” They cackled, closing the baby-name book on Janie for the rest of the class.

  Why is it always like that? One minute you’re almost cool, and then—BOOM! You’re on the outside again. Everybody is just one mayonnaise treatment away from being an outsider.

  I was about to ask Abhi about where her name came from, but before I could, class ended. And so did my believing in the botanica bath I’d given myself for no reason. I didn’t need Janie to tell my fortune. I knew my future. And it didn’t include talking to Abhi.

  After school, Marquis, Janie, and I stood in the courtyard, talking about how the attraction water hadn’t worked like I wanted.

  “Maybe when Abhi passes by, you could walk her to the bus, and the smell will overcome her.” Marquis suggested.

  “Yeah,” I smiled, “I could ask her how she’s adjusting to a new city and a new school.”

  “And,” Janie added, “you have to give the attraction water another chance to work its magic.”

  Bzzz. Bzzz.

  A few bees buzzed around my head.

  “The bees think you’re a flower.” Marquis moved back. “It must be your attraction water.” The bees kept coming, but they stayed away from Marquis and Janie. Maybe mayonnaise is a bee repellent.

  Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

  I swatted at them, jumping up and down, flapping my arms like I was crazy. At that moment, Abhi walked by, looking confused.

  I stopped swatting. “Oh, it’s not what it looks like, Abhi.”

  Abhi paused.

  “Let me explain.” I walked toward her as a bee stung my neck. “Ouch!” I slapped my neck, driving the stinger in deeper. “You stupid …”

  Abhi flinched and hurried away.

  “No, wait … I meant the bee, not you.”

  “Please don’t hurt the bees,” Janie pleaded. “They’re so cute and sweet that they go off and die after they sting you. It’s their way of saying ‘sorry.’”

  I didn’t have time to deal with Janie. I took off after Abhi and even more bees followed me like a cloud. “Nooo!” I yelled. Abhi turned around, saw me swinging at the air again like a madman, and this time she ran. Somehow I’d made everything even worse. I didn’t think that was even possible.

  Marquis walked up and stood a few feet away, out of the bee cloud. “Are you okay?”

  “Just great. Now Abhi’s afraid of me.” I rubbed my neck.

  “We’d better get to the bus,” Marquis walked beside me at a safe distance.

  “She probably thinks I’m crazy.” I rolled my eyes at the bees surrounding me. “The bees are the only thing this attraction water does work on.”

  Marquis nodded, his eyes wide.

  “Bye, Smellacruz!” El Pollo Loco yelled out of his bus window. “How you bee? To bee or not to bee, that’s the question. Get it?”

  Coach Ostraticki blew his whistle and the bees dispersed. I supposed they were afraid he’d make them run laps. Marquis and I climbed on the bus. “This stupid water and cologne caused me nothing but trouble.”

  I didn’t say another word on the rest of the bus ride home. Marquis, being the good buddy that he is, allowed me this silent trip. I was done talking.

  I knew what I had to do next.

  As soon as I walked in the apartment, I emptied the stupid anti-attraction cologne and the stupider anti-attraction water down the bathroom drain of the stupidest kid at Davy Crockett Middle School. My anger transformed me into the Incredible Hulk. I growled at my image and the mirror. I grabbed the Double-Acting Reversing candle and marched out to the Villa De La Fountaine parking lot. I hurled the candle into the Dumpster and listened to the glass shatter against the side.

  I wiped the wetness away from my eyes with each wrist.

  I didn’t believe.

  Not one bit.

  None of it worked because it was cheap, smelly cologne, tap water, an ugly candle, and a wish. How could I ever believe any of that would change anything?

  CHAPTER 19

  CINNAMON ROLL DAY

  On the way to school Friday morning, I didn’t say a word. Dad sure picked a bad day to make me ride the morning bus. Thanks, Dad. I waited for the insults to fly.

  “What’s the matter, Zack?” Marquis asked.

  I crossed my arms tight and shrugged. “Everybody’s going to make fun of me for yesterday.”

  “Nobody’s said anything yet.” Marquis looked around.

  It was true. Everybody was too busy blabbing about the Fall Fiesta-val tomorrow. I wondered again if maybe the curse wasn’t real. Maybe I should pay more attention to what’s right than what’s wrong. Maybe curses and attraction water weren’t real, but I was. Maybe this is the day I finally get to talk with Abhi.

  Cliché tapped Marquis’s shoulder from across the aisle. “Marquis, did you hear we’re going to have to pay for the cascarones we made?”

  “What?” Marquis’s voice broke.

  “That bossy, bossy Blythe Balboa forgot to mention that, after we made all those cascarones with our own blood, sweat, and tears, we’d have to pay for them if we want to smash them on our friends’ heads.” Cliché waited for Marquis’s reaction.

  He looked over at me.

  “Maybe we should protest by not going to the festival,” I interrupted.

  “But it’s a Fiesta-val.” Cliché’s mouth slackened.

  “That’s not fair.” Marquis finally blurted it out.

  Cliché looked at Marquis. “But we’re still totally going,” she almost demanded. “Aren’t we, Marquis?”

  Marquis nodded.

  Great. I looked down at my feet.

  Cliché turned around to the girls sitting behind her to plot a way to get cascarones for free.

  “You have to come now.” Marquis whispered, making sure no one could hear. “I need my wingman.”

  “What’s a wingman?” I uncrossed my arms.

  “I don’t know. I heard it on TV. It’s like your friend.” Marquis looked around to make sure nobody could hear, and whispered. “My mouth gets all twisted up when I try to talk to Cliché. When you’re there, I feel better.”

  I shrugged.

  “So you’re going, then?” Marquis nodded his head up and down, looking at me, waiting.

  “Maybe.” I stared at water droplets on the bus window.

  “Cheer up, my man.” Marquis spoke louder now. “Today is Friday. And tomorrow, we get to hang out together at the Fall Fiesta-val. There’s a rubber-duck race and I hear there’s going to be a dunk tank. Apparently no one has ever dunked Coach O. in the history of Davy Crockett Middle School festivals. Don’t you want to try?” Marquis elbowed me.

  “Yeah,” Cliché joined our conversation, “We’ve got to at least try. We were the first sixth grade to be at the fall dance. We are the ones who can do it.”

  I looked at them both, grinning at me. “I guess.”

  “Well …” Marquis pointed his thumb to his chest. “I know.” He winked at Cliché. Seriously.

  I almost cracked a smile.

  On our way to the cafeteria, the three of us schemed about how we could dunk Coach Ostraticki and get free cascarones.

  Marquis sniffed the air. I smelled it too: cinnamon rolls.

  “It’s cinnamon roll d
ay.” Marquis smiled. Good luck was in the air. Other kids noticed it too and walked faster. Some even ran toward the sweet treat in the cafeteria.

  Everyone knows how I feel about the doughy, oozy, buttery, sugary goodness that is a cinnamon roll. Anyway, Davy Crockett Middle School only has cinnamon rolls once every two weeks. That’s only twice a month—a mere eighteen times a year. Mr. Gonzalez, my math teacher, would be proud of my real-world math skills. Even math is better with cinnamon rolls.

  Kids darted past us on our left and our right. Marquis looked at me. “Race ya!”

  And he ran off. His ankle was stronger and faster than ever.

  Cliché shrugged. “I’m not running. It’s misting outside, and that courtyard will be slippery as ice.”

  To get to the cafeteria you had to go outside through a courtyard, which is really just a slab of concrete with a metal picnic table covered in bird poop.

  “But it’s cinnamon rolls,” I said and took off.

  The concrete outside the cafeteria was slippery. It wasn’t my best idea to run, but since everybody else was racing to the cafeteria door, I did too. And besides, my luck was changing.

  The bad thing was, if you slipped, no one would help you up. They’d trample you, leaving you covered with muddy footprints.

  But worse, if you got in line after the cafeteria ran out of cinnamon rolls, it’s cereal city for you. And once your nose has been teased by the smell of buttery, rich, sweet cinnamon sugar, a bowl of cold, soggy cereal feels like a nasty mush in your mouth.

  My arms chugging, my mouth watering, I ran. Marquis, in the lead, ran inside the door. I decided to make my move and pulled ahead of Chewy Johnson before the cafeteria door swung shut. I wasn’t going to be that guy stuck holding the door open while everybody else ran past.

  “Oh, no!” The door slammed shut before I could make it through. I tried to stop, but my feet flew out from underneath me. I slipped, totally out of control, and I slammed right into the door that had just banged closed.

  After the shock of hitting my head on the courtyard cement wore off, I looked up. And who had his hand on the door handle ready to pull it open and push me across the muddy cement?

  That’s right, El Pollo Loco. José gripped the handle and started tugging the door open, dragging me along with it.

  A voice yelled out: “El, what are you doing to that little boy?”

  Miraculously, José stopped pulling the door. He scowled down at me, but at least he wasn’t dragging me across the muddy cement anymore.

  “And let go of the door.” The voice instructed.

  José looked over his shoulder.

  “NOW!” He let go of the handle.

  Stunned, I searched through the mob that was yelling for me to get out of the way. I wanted to see who had such control over the uncontrolable José. My eyes came into focus on the person telling him off. To my surprise, it was Abhi. She stepped toward José. The other kids stood back. The powerful, most interesting girl was helping me—and not because I was flapping my arms like a crazy man. She was helping me like I mattered.

  “Now, help him up,” Abhi ordered José.

  “Or what?’ José glared back.

  “Ooooooh!” The crowd’s call to fight echoed off the cement courtyard.

  Abhi paused. “You don’t want to find out.”

  “Ooooooooooooh!”

  Abhi had spunk. She just proved it’s not always the boy who saves the girl. Even though I was lying on the cement, cold and wet, I felt happy. My luck had changed. The curse might actually be broken.

  Abhi sticking up for me felt pretty good. I mean, except for the part of me falling down and getting mud all over my shirt and khakis. And I guess Abhi calling me a little boy in front of a crowd wasn’t my dream come true. And sure, it was just one more way I probably showed her I was a ridiculous shrimp who needed saving.

  But she had noticed me—helped me, even.

  José reached out his hand to pull me up. As I reached for it, he jerked it back just before I could grab it, teasing me.

  “JOSÉ!” Abhi snapped.

  “Okay, okay.” José grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

  “That’s better.” It’s like Abhi was a trainer—a crazy chicken trainer. Maybe she could break José like a wild horse. Or tame him like a lion for a circus.

  Abhi mussed José’s hair, and his body relaxed like he was her floppy puppy dog. They giggled. As I tucked my shirt back in, I watched them as the crowds flowed through the door.

  “Are you ready?” José asked, holding the door open for her.

  “Yes, please.” Abhi said. ”I want to see these cinnamon rolls everybody’s making such a big deal about. They must be spectacular.”

  They are, I thought, like her. What was that? I had this warm feeling in my stomach. All I know is that I wanted to talk with Abhi the way José did. As they entered the cafeteria, I brushed off my pants and followed.

  From behind Abhi, I said “thank you,” but she kept walking with José to the line, like she had never heard me. What was going on between the two of them? I wondered. Are they just friends or more? And what is more? And why is she with José and not with me? And was it too late? And would I still get a cinnamon roll? I came to my senses and got in line.

  I got one of the last cinnamon rolls and caught up with Marquis. We ate side by side, watching José and Abhi laughing and eating.

  José even gave her his last bite.

  CHAPTER 20

  DILUM AND GLOOM

  Later in line at lunchtime, Marquis and I each grabbed all they had left, salad.

  “So what do you think is going on with Abhi and José?” I asked, sliding my tray down the track.

  “Oh, man, I really wanted pizza.” Marquis picked up his cardboard boat of salad. “I guess they talk to each other and they’re friends.”

  “Friends like you and Cliché?” I asked.

  “I guess because one’s a boy and one’s a girl.” Marquis looked back at me. “Is that what you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” I knocked my tray into his as we got to the cash register.

  Marquis hung back to talk to Mrs. O’Shansky. “How’s that garden of yours, Mrs. O’Shansky?”

  I took advantage and squeezed a bunch of extra pumps of ranch dressing all over my salad.

  “Fine and dandy, Mr. Malone,” Mrs. O’Shansky said. “Just planted my pansies.”

  “Do tell,” Marquis said.

  I couldn’t listen anymore. He wasn’t even doing it for me to get extra salad dressing anymore. He enjoyed talking to adults.

  I searched for a table in the loud cafeteria. That day, it was extra noisy and crowded because the eighth grade had an assembly and was eating early. I couldn’t find a spot for two. I noticed someone following me. I turned, thinking it was Marquis.

  It wasn’t.

  A big kid with eyes just like Abhi’s towered over me too close. I backed up, but he kept coming at me. I had to bend my head all the way back to see his face. He looked me up and down, stroking his throat. “Hey, are you the little guy who took out my sister with a dodgeball?”

  I searched for Marquis, who was still chatting with the Mrs. O’Shansky like they were BFFs.

  “I’m Dilum Baht.” He clipped the T at the end of his name. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He stepped closer.

  “Nice to meet you?” I tried to calm him down. “Let me explain. I didn’t do it on purpose.” I sat my tray on the table and inched around to the other side.

  Dilum followed, close.

  “Then I didn’t do this on purpose either.”

  Dilum made a fist.

  I closed my eyes and held my hands in front of my face. “Please don’t break my glasses.”

  Being polite, I guess, Dilum listened to my plea and slugged my shoulder instead. Hard.

  “This is for my sister Abhi.”

  He hit me again in the same exact spot.

  “This one’s for everybody else.” />
  Yowch! “What did I do to everyone else?”

  Dilum poked my chest as he talked. “You shouldn’t pick on people because they’re different.”

  “Dilum, get yourself to an eighth-grade table. NOW!” Mrs. Gage, the cafeteria lunch monitor, bellowed. “This is no way to start at a new school.” For once I was relieved to have Mrs. Gage all up in my business. She cut a beeline over to us. “We’re not going to have a problem here, are we?” She looked back and forth at us.

  I rubbed my arm and shook my head.

  Dilum glared at her for a few seconds. Then, he threw his arms up and stomped to an eighth-grade table on the other side of the cafeteria.

  Mrs. Gage let out a long sigh. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She shook her head.

  Dilum kept pointing two fingers at his eyes to let me know he was watching.

  “What was that all about?” Marquis sat across from me.

  “I’m not sure.” I rubbed my arm. “That was Abhi’s brother, Dilum.”

  “Her brother is that giant?” Marquis opened his milk. “I bet this is all part of the curse that witch put on you at the botanical.”

  “Botanica,” I corrected. “Curses only work if you believe in them.” Though the way Dilum kept eyeing me, I had to wonder.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the curse is on me too.” Marquis looked down at his pile of salad. “Did you notice how they ran out of pizza right before we got our trays?”

  “Maybe we are cursed.” I stared at the pile of lettuce I had drowned in creamy ranch dressing. Maybe I believed in the wrong things. “But there was plenty of ranch dressing. I got three pumps. Nobody was watching. You could get as much as you wanted.”

  “It’s not pizza, though,” Marquis interrupted.

  It had gotten that bad: I was defending salad. I wished I could drown all my problems with creamy ranch dressing. But I don’t think there was enough salad dressing in the whole world to cover all my problems.

  “But you know, the whole dodgeball thing happened before the bruja put the curse on me.” I poked at my soaked lettuce. “I mean, if she even did.”

  “Oh, are we talking about when you clobbered Abhi to the ground like a dodgeball assassin?”