Lucky Me (3 page)

Her friend added, “You stink, Meghan McGlinchey!”

I was mad, embarrassed, and, well, having a really bad day, so I yelled back at her. “You stink worse, and there's no such thing as magic, stupid!”

The little girls said nothing. They looked over my shoulder at what turned out to be Mrs. S-V.

“My office,” she said to me.

I slipped on my super-duper ugly shoes and ran down the aisle, getting nasty looks from every girl under the age of eleven for whom I'd just ruined the Fabulous Frank-O show. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I didn't want to be a volunteer.

Eventually, I was in a chair in Mrs. S-V's office, which, thankfully, was supplied with tissues. I used a lot of them while thinking about my impending expulsion.

I wondered if I'd ever be allowed to attend an assembly again. Maybe if I could explain that this wasn't my fault, it was the chain letter, Mrs. S-V would understand. Probably not. She didn't really seem like the understanding type.

She left me waiting for a long time. My stomach growled; it hadn't gotten any lunch today. When Mrs. S-V finally arrived, she didn't yell at me like I'd expected. She gave me three more demerits for calling second graders stupid and left me in her office for the remainder of the day.

That was
cinq
demerits, which equaled one day's suspension for unlucky Meghan McGlinchey.

From the hard wooden seat in Mrs. S-V's office, I heard the school's sound system click on.

“Good afternoon, students,” Principal Jackson's voice bellowed. “I am pleased to announce the results of the eighth-grade election. The new president is . . .”

I crossed my fingers, arms, and legs. If I'd been at my locker, I would have also palmed my lucky rabbit's foot and stood under the horseshoe that hung on the inside.
Please say “Meghan McGlinchey.” Please say “Meghan McGlinchey.”

“Avery Brown.”

What?

I'd lost.

There was no way.

I thought for sure everyone had walked up and put my name in the ballot box.

How can this be happening?

I knew exactly how.

I'd cheated a chain letter, and now I was—how can I put this delicately?—cursed!

W
hen I finally came out of school, Carissa was waiting for me, leaning against the brick wall. She tossed me my backpack.

“Did you hear that announcement?” I asked.

“I heard it, but I don't believe it,” Carissa said. “Do you want to protest? Demand a recount? Because I'll do it. Something smells fishy.”

“No. I just want to go to Ireland and forget it ever happened.”

“That Frank-O scene should help you forget about the election. It was
très
epic. People will be talking about it for years, decades maybe.” She unwrapped a pack of gum and held a piece out for me.

I shook my head.

“Come on. School's over. It's okay now.”

I took it, but I didn't unwrap it until I was outside the front gates, where Shannon would pick up me, Piper, and Eryn, but they weren't there.

“Shannon was already here,” Carissa said. “Bigmouth Piper told her everything. She's waiting across the street at the Donut Hole.” Then, out of the corner of her mouth she said, “You and I both know there's way better stuff at the Hole than doughnuts.” She was referring to the boys from Chesapeake Academy. They hung out there and played the store's video games. Carissa added, “Come on. We'll get your mind off the election
and
the assembly. Carbs, sugar, and Chesapeake boys will help. I promise.”

“Is Shannon bringing you home today?”

Carissa often caught a ride home because she was way too cool for the bus, and she preferred hanging out with the dysfunctional McGlinchey girls to being in her house.

“You know it. She likes my company.”

Shannon didn't particularly care for Carissa or her company.

Once we were across the street, I put the gum into my mouth. We walked through a small playground, where
I hopped over the hopscotch board: two, one, two, one, one, two. I hopped the board every time we cut through there, and now, to skip it would be unlucky. “Wait,” I said to Carissa. I went back and hopped over the painted boxes again.

“What was that for?”

“I figured I could use a little extra oomph today, and for some reason that hopscotch board always gives me a good feeling.”

“Maybe you should draw one on your driveway. That way you can do it every day,” she suggested.

Carissa wasn't superstitious the way I was, but she tried to be supportive. For example, if she found a heads-up penny, she'd give it to me. That was the kind of friend she was.

Shannon was waiting for us outside. Carissa started for the door to the Hole, but Shannon called to her, “We already got some.”

Carissa's back slumped at the idea of missing the boys from Chesapeake, and she got into the car.

At least the doughnuts smelled good.

“You know,” Carissa said, pouting, “my future husband could be in there right now eating a Boston cream and waiting for me. He'll never meet me. Poor guy.”

“Just buckle up.” Shannon tossed her a bag with two chocolate glazed doughnuts.

Eryn texted silently in the front seat, probably to one of her equally angry friends.

The ride home was miserable.

Shannon asked, “What happened with the election?”

“I don't get it,” I said. “I really thought everyone was putting my name in the ballot box.”

“I want to protest. But she won't let me,” Carissa added.

As if I didn't feel bad enough, Piper, who sat between Carissa and me, spoke over Shannon, telling the Frank-O story over and over, louder each time. “And then the coffin crashed to the ground. It dented the wood stage. You know they'll have to repair it?” In the next version they had to replace a section, and in the next they had to rebuild the whole stage.

Carissa tried to change the subject to get the heat off me. “How about them Yankees?”

But Piper said, “Wait till Mom finds out about the suspension.”

“What?” Shannon shrieked.

Eryn laughed a little.

“Look, I had a really bad day. And actually it's
your
fault,” I said to Shannon angrily.

“
My
fault? How did I get you in all that trouble?”

“I e-mailed that letter, which
you
told me to do, and now
I'm
cursed. Thank you very much.”

Eryn spoke three words, “Told. You. So.”

Piper asked, “What are you gonna do? You have to do something. Look at your socks!”

“According to Google,” I explained, “if I find the links of the chain and ask them to forgive me, I can undo the curse.”

Shannon said, “Then get on the phone, talk to the links, and undo the curse.”

“There are a few complications,” I said. “Apparently, I need to shake on it.”

“What?” Shannon asked. “That doesn't make sense. I've never heard of this.”

Carissa said, “Um . . . we found it online today. It was a new amendment to the chain letter rules. From 2011, I think. There was a convention or conclave or something.”

“Another complication is that I don't know Clare Gallagher,” I said.

“Hold on!” Piper exclaimed. “I know that name! Gallagher is one of the family people we're gonna see in Ireland. I've heard Dad say that name.” She gasped. “I know what you can do! You can ask Clare where to find the person who sent
her
the letter. This is a good idea I'm having. Then meet
that
person and ask
them
where to find the person who sent them the letter. Then meet that person and ask
them
—”

I interrupted, “I get it.”

Shannon said, “It isn't a terrible idea.”

“Did you know we're staying at the Ballymore Home for Boys, where Dad grew up?” Piper asked. “We might be the first girls they've ever seen.”

“A home for boys?” Carissa asked. “Now, that sounds like my kind of place.”

Shannon sighed. “A home for
orphaned
boys.”

“Oh, joy,” Eryn said sarcastically. “We get to stay with a group of homeless kids. They sound like a blast!”

“They're hosting this year's Spring Fling event, where Dad will finally meet his long-lost sister,” Shannon said.

Piper chimed in, “
That's
Gallagher. It's the lost sister. She must've sent you the letter.”

Maybe this could work. Provided that I made it to
Ireland alive, I could meet Clare at the Spring Fling and get leads on the other links. I'd shake as many hands as they had. I'd shake their feet, if I had to.

I was going to reverse this curse!

I couldn't have another day like today. Not ever.

I
watched the clouds over the Atlantic Ocean and rubbed my fingers over the silver four-leaf clover around my neck. In the seat next to me, Piper talked to the flight attendants whenever they came by, and she pushed the call button when she had something she wanted to say and they weren't around. My mom told her to stop a hundred times, but she didn't.

I ignored her and dozed off, until I woke up somewhere over County Cork, Ireland. From the view out my tiny plane window, it looked like the land was covered by plush, green vegetation. It also looked rainy, which wasn't going to be kind to my flat-ironed hair.

But I had a good feeling that my luck would get better once I was officially in Ireland.

After exiting the plane, I knew that feeling was totally wrong.

First the rain frizzed my hair.

Then our luggage was lost—all of it—even the new stuff from Delia's that I'd just bought for this trip.

Lastly, our ride that was taking us to Ballymore was late.

And then the big whopper happened. I saw a coin on the ground and bent to check if it was heads up. Eryn walked right into me, glued to her phone, and knocked me into Shannon, who I bumped down the escalator. Not on purpose, of course, but still, I watched helplessly as she tumbled down the moving stairs.

CRACK!

Shannon grabbed her leg and yelled in pain.

I ran down the steps to her side. “Where does it hurt?” I asked.

She pointed to her knee, shin, and ankle.
That can't be good,
I thought. I looked carefully at her leg. “It looks fine,” I lied. Actually, her calf looked sort of,
well
 . . . It was crooked where it shouldn't have been.

My mom took one look at her leg and went deathly white.

Dad took the baby from Mom and handed her to Eryn, who held Hope out at arm's length. “It's all going to be fine,” he said.

A security guard ran over, pushed a button on the walkie-talkie Velcroed to his shoulder, and mumbled something in a thick Irish accent and told us, “Help's on the way.”

“Help's on the way!” Piper repeated. “Did you hear that?
Help's
on the way. Help's
on the way.
Help—”

“We get it, buttmunch,” Eryn said. “If you don't shut up, we'll have them take you to a place where you'll be locked up in a straitjacket.”

“Moooooom! Did you hear that? See what she does?”

Mom said, “Eryn, please.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Eryn said, “Just for the week. Or two.” She walked away from the chaos, still holding the baby away from her body, like embracing her might get vomit on her black denim jacket.

An ambulance arrived. Shannon was put on a stretcher and lifted into the back.

The baby cried, and Eryn passed her back to Mom.

“I'll go to the hospital,” Dad said. “You take the baby straight to Ballymore?”

Mom asked, “What about our stuff? I only have one small bottle of formula left. We need our bags.”

“Okay.” Dad thought some more. “I'll stay here and fill out the reports. You go to the hospital, and Eryn can take Hope to Ballymore.”

“I don't think so,” Eryn said, horrified. “I really don't do babies.”

“She's your sister,” Mom snapped. “Make an exception.”

The ambulance guy was ready to close the back doors. “We're heading out,” he said.

Shannon sat up, wincing. “Just send Meghan with me.”

“Okay,” Dad agreed. “I'll get things sorted out here.”

With that, I was popped into the back of the ambulance. We took off with a jolt. It felt like we were on a fast and wild carnival ride. Did I mention we were on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD?

The stretcher rolled to one side of the small ambulance, bumped the metal wall, and rolled back over to me. It banged into my legs. “Ouch!” I complained as I rubbed them. Shannon shot me a look. After that I held the gurney as still as I could until I saw the County Cork Hospital emergency room sign.

A team of nurses took Shannon away. I sat and waited,
and waited. I felt terrible that I was the reason Shannon was there. I looked at my watch. It was four thirty a.m. at home.

I texted Carissa about our fiasco.

She wrote back right away like she was sleeping with her cell phone—which she probably was. Her text said, “That sux. Sit tight. On my way.”

I chuckled at her funny reply before moping again. I figured we'd be on the next plane back to Delaware, where Shannon could see a surgeon and I'd be cursed for the rest of my life. I'd be banned from all magic shows, and would probably need to change schools.

Finally a nurse came out to get me.

I rushed to Shannon's side. Her leg was in a cast from her foot to just above her knee. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I can't walk for a few days until I get a boot, but I'll be fine.”

“I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. What am I going to do? Mom and Dad are going to make us all go home now, and I'll never find the links to that letter, and the rest of my life is going to be awful like this,” I said, pointing at her leg.