The Birthday Party of No Return! (6 page)

“Noooooooo!”

A long moan escaped my throat.

“What's wrong?” Mom cried. She dropped her spatula and came running over to the fridge. “Lee, what's all the screaming about?”

“I — I —” I pointed to the two rows of eggs in the door. Then I blinked. I squinted hard.

The eggs were perfectly okay. No cracks. No claws poking out from inside the shells.

“Oh, wow,” I muttered.

Mom put a hand on my shoulder. “What's wrong?”

“I think … I'm seeing things,” I said.

She led me to the kitchen table. I dropped into my chair, my brain buzzing. She carried the eggs from the fridge and started to scramble them.

Dad waved to me from outside. I stared out the window at him, but I didn't wave back.

I'm totally messed up
, I told myself.

I was seeing things.
Hallucinating
is the word for it. First I had nightmares about claws. And now I was seeing claws when I was awake!

My clothes were ruined. My comb cracked in half.

Bad luck. Bad luck and nightmares and hallucinations…

I had a sick feeling. Like a heavy rock weighing down my stomach.

Has the good luck from the vulture claw run out?

Has the claw turned against me?

I knew it worked before. I knew it could change my life. Was there anything I could do to bring back the good luck?

After school, Coach Taylor drove six of us to the bowling alley in his SUV. Laura, Cory, and the other kids laughed and goofed on one another the whole way. I sat in a corner in the backseat and stayed pretty quiet.

I felt tense all day. My hands shook. My heart raced.

I kept expecting to see more claws pop out at me. I kept expecting to be the star of a horror movie that only I could see.

Now I felt even more stressed. I knew I had to win the bowling match to stay in the race for the scholarship. And Laura and Cory were both better bowlers than me.

Come on, claw
, I repeated to myself.
Do your thing. Please work for me.

“Hey, Lee, what's up?” Cory turned around in his seat and grinned at me. “Why are you so quiet?”

“Just thinking,” I muttered.

“Thinking about how I can beat you left-handed?” Cory said.

I groaned. “Cory — you
are
left-handed. Remember?”

He laughed. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Laura slapped Cory's shoulder. “Shut up, Cory. You don't have to brag all the time.”

“I know I don't have to brag,” Cory said. “I can beat him without bragging. I can beat you, too, Laura.”

“Shut up,” Laura repeated. It was one of her favorite phrases. Sometimes she
started
a conversation with it.

“Tell you what,” Cory said, his dimple flashing. “Maybe you two can come visit me at Sports Camp this summer.”

“Ha-ha. You're so funny,” Laura said. She gave him a shove.

I stayed out of it. I just wanted to focus. Focus on doing my best. Focus on winning today.

Coach Taylor pulled the SUV into the parking lot. The place was called Roll-a-Bowl Lanes. It was a long, low building with painted bowling balls bouncing across the front. A neon sign read: B
URGERS
! F
RIES
! B
EST
B
OWLING FOR
M
ILES
! We followed the coach inside. I counted about twenty bowling lanes. Only a few were being used. Not too many people bowl at four o'clock on a Friday afternoon.

I saw an ice-cream counter across from where you get your bowling shoes. And a small burger place with four or five tables next door to it.

The manager gave us lanes at the very end. We trotted down to them and picked out our bowling balls. I had to have a blue one. That's my favorite color.

I sat down on the bench next to Laura and a sixth grader named Gray Haddox. Gray is a big dude with short blond hair and a red face that always looks like he's blushing. He lives for sports. He's on the soccer team and the track team. Actually, I think he's on
every
team!

I don't know Gray very well. He's very shy and quiet — except when he's playing sports. And he hangs out with another crowd, some kids from the high school.

Gray bowled a strike on his first turn. He pumped his big fist in the air and came back to the bench with a huge smile on his red face.

Laura and Cory got off to bad starts. Laura's first two rolls were gutter balls. She scored a big zip.

Cory knocked down only three pins in two tries. He muttered angrily to himself, slapping the ball. Like it was the ball's fault.

I kissed the claw. Then stepped up for my first try. I'm not a great bowler. I can never decide which foot to lead with.

But I got off to a good start. I bowled an eight in the first frame. I had a spare in the second frame. And an eight in the third frame.

By the tenth frame, Cory, Laura, and Gray were ahead of me. But only by a few points. The other kids were way behind us.

I studied the score sheet. If I could bowl a spare in this frame, I would win the game.

Now I was really excited.
I can do it
, I told myself.
I can win this thing.

My heart began to race. My hands were sweaty. I dried them off on a towel.

I stepped onto the lane. I took a deep breath. Raised the ball … Sent it rolling down the center of the alley…

…And knocked down eight pins.

Okay. The remaining two pins were close together on the right. An easy spare.

An easy spare to make me the winner.

I waited for the ball to return. I wiped my sweaty hands on the towel again.

I took another deep breath. Then I stepped onto the lane.

I could see Cory, Laura, and Gray watching me. Intense stares on their faces.

I touched the claw under my shirt.

Please — come through for me. Please — bring me good luck.

Would the claw do its job?

I pulled the ball back and started my approach.

I took two steps. Swung my arm forward…

…And the ball slipped off my hand.

It dropped hard and fast.

I heard a heavy thud as it crushed the top of my bowling shoe.

“Owwwwwww!”
I opened my mouth in a howl.

A crushing pain shot up my leg.

I dropped to the floor, twisting in agony.

“My toes! I broke my toes! I broke my foot!” I shrieked.

Gray dropped down beside me. He put a hand on my shoulder and kept telling me to calm down. Help was on the way.

By the time Coach Taylor showed up, I'd stopped screaming and writhing on the floor. But my foot still throbbed with pain.

The coach and Gray lifted me to my feet and helped me to the bench. Taylor gently pulled the bowling shoe and the sock off my foot. He tested the ankle and the toes.

“The foot isn't broken,” he said. He massaged the foot carefully. He frowned. “Maybe you broke your little toe. But there's nothing you can do for that.”

I swallowed. “You mean — ?”

“You just have to put up with the pain,” Taylor said. “It'll feel better after a while.”

I rolled my eyes. “After a while?”

The whole foot throbbed. I couldn't believe every bone wasn't broken.

I slumped onto the bench. I had lost the game.

Laura won by three points. Cory was one point behind her. Gray came in third.

Coach Taylor was studying the score sheet. “Do I get any points for sportsmanship? Or for improvement?” I called to him.

He didn't answer.

A cold feeling of dread rolled over me. In the competition for the scholarship, I was definitely falling further and further behind.

We changed back into our real shoes. My foot didn't hurt that much. But the little toe was so painful, I couldn't touch it.

It was bright red and totally swollen. I squeezed the foot into my shoe, and I limped after Cory and Laura toward the exit.

We were nearly to the door when Cory bent down and picked something up from under a chair. “Hey, check it out,” he said. He held it up to us. “I found a cell phone.”

We followed him to the front desk. He handed the phone to the manager. “Someone dropped their phone,” Cory said.

The manager was a huge, bald guy in a sleeveless red T-shirt. The shirt only came down halfway over his belly. A red and blue tattoo of a bowling ball rippled on his right bicep.

He grinned at Cory. He had a gold tooth right in the middle of his mouth. “That's so nice of you to return it,” he said. “Most people would just walk away with it.”

He pointed across the room. “Dude, go over to the ice-cream booth,” he told Cory. “Have a free sundae — on me.”

“Hey, thanks,” Cory said. He gave the manager a funny two-fingered salute.

We followed Cory to the ice-cream booth. He got a huge hot fudge sundae — for free. Laura and I had to pay for our ice-cream cones.

Cory flashed me a thumbs-up. “Excellent sundae,” he said. “Guess my luck is still good.”

I forced a smile. But I wasn't smiling inside.

My little toe was
killing
me. It throbbed and ached so bad, it was hard to
think
.

Yes, Cory's luck was still good. And what was mine?

Bad bad bad.

Nothing but bad.

I stared at Cory gulping down a big spoon of ice cream covered in hot fudge. And as I watched him, the ice cream fell out of my cone and landed with a
splat
on top of my shoe.

I didn't even bother to wipe it off.

My heart started to pound. I realized my life was spinning out of control.

I was losing the competition. Hallucinating. Getting injured.

At least it can't get any worse than this
, I thought.

Boy, was I wrong.

At home, I hurried upstairs to my room. My foot felt better now. Or maybe I was getting used to the pain. But each step on the broken toe reminded me about my bad luck.

I knew I had to change my luck — right away. I didn't want to get hurt again. I didn't want to see claws everywhere I looked.

I knew what I had to do.

I had to get rid of the vulture claw.

I grabbed the rope pendant and tugged it off my neck. I held it up and studied the ugly thing.

It had changed from good luck to bad. And I just realized why.

I tugged at the torn talon. Arfy did this. It was all that big dumb dog's fault.

He took it from me and chewed on it. He got dog saliva all over it. That's when it changed. Arfy ruined it.

I wrapped the rope around it and stuffed the claw into my T-shirt drawer. I pushed it down under all the T-shirts. I didn't want to see it again. I didn't want to think about it.

I'll make my own good luck from now on.

That's what I was thinking when Mom stepped into my room. She was carrying a stack of neatly folded socks and underwear. “These are clean,” she said. “You can put them away.”

“No problem,” I said.

She dumped them on my bed. “How was the bowling thing?” she said.

“Don't ask,” I replied.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” I said. “I dropped the ball on my foot.”

She squinted at me. “You're supposed to throw it, not drop it.”

“Ha-ha,” I said. “You're funny, Mom.”

“Did Cory win?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. Laura. But Cory got a free ice-cream sundae.”

“Lucky,” Mom said.

The magic word.

“That reminds me,” Mom said. “We need a birthday gift for Cory. His party is next Saturday. What do you think we should get him?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. He
thinks
he's getting a Wii from his parents. Maybe we could buy him a game.”

“Well … you think about it,” Mom said. She turned and headed downstairs.

I didn't think about it at all. I had homework to do and other things to think about.

Cory was a hard person to buy presents for. Because his parents always bought him everything he wanted. Lucky, right?

Later that night, it was time to change into my pajamas and go to sleep. I pulled pajamas from the dresser drawer. I guess I wasn't paying attention because I slammed the drawer on my hand.

“YEOOWWWWWW.”

I shook my hand frantically. The pain just wouldn't quit!

Were my fingers broken? Did I crack my wrist?

“That stupid claw!” I cried out loud. “It has to go. I'm going to have bad luck until I get rid of it.”

I grabbed the claw. I pulled it out from beneath the T-shirts.

Squeezing it in my fist, I held it in front of me and strode to the open bedroom window.

“Good-bye, claw,” I muttered. “Good-bye and good riddance.”

I raised it high. Pulled back my arm. And prepared to toss it out the window, toss it as far as I could.

But I stopped with my arm raised high.

I stopped, suddenly frozen like a statue. My mind was spinning.

I lowered my arm. My heart thudded. I took a deep breath.

I gazed at the black, feathery claw.

“Perfect,” I murmured. “It's perfect. The perfect birthday gift for Cory.”

I laughed. What a totally sweet idea.

“Here you go, Cory. I brought you a really nifty good-luck charm.”

Ha-ha.

“Happy birthday, Lucky Duck.”

I kissed the claw good-bye. Then I found a small box, tucked the claw inside, and wrapped a red ribbon around it.