Locker 13 (7 page)

I leaned on my hands and watched the game in silence. Hannah missed six or seven shots in a row. She tripped over the ball, hit the floor hard, and got a huge, bright red floor burn on her knee. Her passes to her teammates went wild. She kept losing the ball to the other team. Tripping over her own feet. Bumping into other players.

It was sad. She didn't look like Hannah at all.

The half-time score was Bee Stingers twenty-five, Squirettes five.

When the team came out to start the second half, Hannah sat down on the bench and didn't play.

What's going on? I wondered.

I climbed down from the bleachers and walked over to her on the bench.

“Luke, you came to a bad-news game,” she said, shaking her head.

“What's wrong?” I asked. “You're hurt? From your bike accident yesterday?”

She watched the Bee Stingers score another basket. Then she turned to me. “No. It's not because of my accident,” she whispered. Her eyes were dull, watery. Her skin was so pale.

“So, what is it?” I asked.

Hannah frowned. “It's all because I lost my good-luck charm,” she said.

I gaped at her. “Huh?”

“It's what brought me all that amazing great luck,” Hannah said. “I have to find it. As soon as I lost it, my luck changed.”

My mouth dropped open. I realized my heart had started to pound.

“It's a tiny skull,” Hannah continued. “A little yellow skull. I—I never went anywhere without it.”

She tugged at the bandage on her hand. Then she raised her eyes to me. “You haven't seen it anywhere … have you, Luke?”

My legs suddenly felt weak. I gripped the back of the bench and stared at Hannah. I could feel my face growing red.

I could feel the skull in my jeans pocket. I knew I should pull it out and hand it to her.

But how
could
I?

I needed the good luck, too. Hannah had enjoyed so much good luck for so long. Mine had just started. For the first time in my life, I was having a little good luck.

How could I go back to being a loser again?

Hannah's watery eyes locked on mine. “Have you seen it, Luke?” she repeated. “Have you seen it anywhere?”

My face burned. So many frantic thoughts whirred through my head.

I really needed that good-luck charm. Ever since I found it, my life had changed. I was a new person.

But Hannah was my friend. My best friend in the whole world. She was always there for me when I needed her.

I couldn't lie to her—could I?

“No,” I said. “I haven't seen it anywhere.”

Hannah's eyes remained on me for a few seconds more. Then she nodded slowly and turned back to the game.

My heart was pounding hard now. I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Where did you lose it?” I asked.

She didn't reply. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cheered on her teammates.

I backed away from the bench. I felt like a total creep. I jammed my hand into my pocket. Wrapped my fingers around the rubber skull.

Give it back to her, Luke
, a voice in my head urged. The voice of goodness. The voice of friendship.

But I knew I wasn't going to give it back. I was already trotting out of the gym and down the hall to the exit.

I need it a little while longer, I told myself. Just a little while.

Long enough to win the basketball championship. Long enough to get really good grades for the first time in my life. Long enough to impress my friends … to get on the swim team … to make a name for myself … long enough to be a
winner
.

I squeezed the little skull all the way home. I'll give it back to Hannah in a couple of weeks, I told myself. Two weeks, that's all. Maybe three. And then I'll give it back to her. And she can have her good luck again. No harm done.

No harm done—right?

The phone was ringing when I stepped in the kitchen door. I tossed down my backpack and ran to answer it.

To my surprise, it was Mrs. Coffey.

“Luke, I'm glad I caught you,” she said. “I have some really good news. You know my friend at the computer store?”

“Yes?”

“I spoke to him after you left the computer lab. And he said you could start work at his store on Saturday.”

“That's great!” I exclaimed.

“But that's not my good news,” Mrs. Coffey continued. “He has a friend who is putting together a show of computer animation. And his friend is very interested in seeing your work.”

“Really?” I cried.

“He needs short pieces for his animation show right away,” she said. “If he likes your piece, he said he will pay a thousand dollars for it.”

“Wow!”

“Is it finished, Luke?” Mrs. Coffey asked. “Is it ready to show to him?”

I thought hard. “Almost,” I said. “I need two more days on it. Maybe three.”

“Well, try to hurry,” Mrs. Coffey said. “I think he has most of the pieces he needs. He's going to be showing them all over the country. It would be a shame to miss out—”

“It sure would!” I interrupted. “I'll get right to work on it, Mrs. Coffey. And thanks. Thanks a lot!”

Excited, I hurried up to my room and turned on the computer. Maybe I can get some work done on it before dinner, I decided.

I heard Mom come in downstairs. I called hi to her and said I was working on my computer project.

A few minutes later the phone rang again. I heard Mom talking for a while. Then I heard her running up the stairs. She burst into my room, ran up behind me, and wrapped me in a big hug.

“Huh? What's that for?” I cried.

“That was Mario's Steakhouse on the phone,” Mom said, grinning. “You know. Your favorite restaurant. You won, Luke! Remember that drawing we all entered the last time we were there? Well, you won it. They picked your card. You won dinner for the whole family. Twelve dinners! One a month for the next year!”

“Wow!” I jumped up from the computer. Laughing and cheering, Mom and I did a happy little dance around the room.

“I can't believe you won that drawing. That is so terrific!” Mom exclaimed. “We're going to have to start calling you Lucky Luke!”

“Yeah. Lucky Luke,” I repeated. “I like that. That's me. Lucky Luke.”

I worked on my animation until nearly midnight. I stared into the glow of the monitor until I couldn't see straight, and the images became a fuzzy blur.

“Almost finished,” I said, yawning.

I changed into pajamas, brushed my teeth, got ready for sleep. But just before I climbed into bed, I pulled out my lucky little skull for one last look.

I held it gently in my hand and studied it, rubbing my fingers over the smooth top of the skull. The tiny, red jewel eyes glowed brightly.

I rubbed my fingers over the hard, bumpy teeth. I twirled the skull in my hand.

“My little good-luck charm,” I whispered.

I set it down carefully on my dresser, in front of the mirror. Then I turned out the lights and climbed into bed.

I settled back on my pillows, pulling the quilt up to my chin. I yawned loudly. The mattress creaked under me. Waiting for sleep, I stared into the darkness.

The curtains were pulled, so no light washed in from the street. The room was completely black, except for a faint red glow.

The glow of the two red eyes in the skull. Like tiny match flames against the blackness.

And then I saw two more glowing spots of red light. Larger. Behind the tiny skull eyes.

Two circles of light in the mirror glass. Two flame-red circles, the size of tennis balls.

And as their light grew brighter, more intense … I could see a form in the dresser mirror.

Deep nostril holes … two rows of jagged, grinning teeth.

A skull. A red-eyed skull.

Not tiny. A huge, grinning, yellow-boned skull that
filled
the mirror!

Filled the mirror! And stared out at me with those fiery, flame-red eyes.

I sat straight up. Squeezed the quilt. And gaped in horror as the jagged teeth moved. The jaw slid open.

And the enormous skull mouthed the words … mouthed them so clearly …

“
Lucky Luke
.”

 

The giant, glowing skull leaned forward, as if to push out of the mirror. The jaw worked up and down. The red glow seemed to bathe the whole room in flames.

I opened my mouth in a horrified scream.

I screamed and then screamed again.

The ceiling light flashed on.

“Luke—what's wrong?”

Blinking in the sudden light, I saw my dad burst breathlessly into the room. His pajama shirt was twisted. One pajama pants leg rode up to his knee. His hair was tangled from sleep, standing straight up on one side.

“What is it?” he repeated.

“I—I—” I pointed to the mirror. My head spun with confusion. I couldn't find words.

“The skull—” I finally choked out.

Brushing back his hair, Dad crossed the room to my dresser.

I stared into the glass.

Nothing now.

Nothing in there, except the reflection of my room. As he came near, I could see Dad's worried face reflected in the glass.

“Is
this
what you were screaming about?” Dad asked. He picked up the little yellow skull and held it out to me. “This skull?”

“N-no,” I stammered.

I was thinking hard, trying to figure out what I had seen.

It couldn't have been the reflection of the little skull I saw in the glass.

No.

The skull that loomed in the mirror was enormous, its eyes as big as basketballs!

Dad still squinted at me from the dresser, holding the little skull up in front of him.

“I guess I had a bad dream,” I said softly, settling back onto my pillows. “It—it was so weird. I dreamed I saw a giant skull with flaming eyes. But … it was so real!”

Dad shook his head. “Well … if this little skull is giving you bad dreams, want me to take it away?” He started to the door.

“No!” I screamed.

I jumped out of bed to block his path. He looked startled as I grabbed the skull from his hand.

“It's … it's a good-luck charm,” I said. “It's brought me a lot of good luck.”

Dad frowned as he gazed at the little skull in my hand. “You sure, Luke? It doesn't look good to me. It looks evil.”

“Evil?” I laughed. “No way, Dad. No way. Trust me.”

He clicked off the light on his way out. A short while later, I fell asleep gripping the skull tightly in one hand.

A few days later I screamed my head off again.

 

This time it was for fun.

A bunch of us were on our skates up on Killer Hill. It's actually Miller Hill. But we call it Killer Hill because it's up at the top where Broad Street scoops straight down—a steep, steep slope down three blocks to Miller Street.

Miller Street has the most traffic in Shawnee Valley. So the idea is, we come skating down Broad Street full speed. We come rocketing down the steep slope as fast as we can—and try to skate right through the traffic on Miller.