Lucky(17)

“Maybe I should work alone today, Dad. Instead of you.”

“Ah, no, it’s all right.”

“I think I’m ready. People don’t always trust you, but I’m a kid.”

Now he was nodding, looking at her in a new way. “People always want to trust a kid. Okay, birthday girl. You’re on.”



* * *




She decided on a watermelon drop. It was a con she’d helped her father with a few times, but she’d never tried it alone. She got a drinking glass from their kitchen, which she placed in a thick plastic bag and smashed with a hammer in the sink. At the sound of the breaking glass, her father looked up from the newspaper he was reading on the couch but didn’t say anything.

She found a shoebox and poured the broken glass into it, then wrapped the whole thing in brown paper. Using a pink marker, she wrote To Mom on the paper. She added a heart, then a flower, then decided that was enough.

“See you later, Dad,” she said as she walked out the front door. “I’m going to the mall.”

“That’s my girl,” he replied. “Good luck.”

As she walked, she held the package in her hands with reverence, as if it contained a Fabergé egg or a valuable jewel.

Her father’s age-old advice rang in her head: You have to believe it yourself or it won’t work. And she did. She did believe it.

At the shopping mall, she stayed in the parking lot, positioning herself at the edge of the curb. Shoppers rushed past her and she watched them all carefully, examining their faces. No. No. She won’t do. Not him. Aha. Yes. Her.

She stepped down from the curb and into the path of a mother rushing along with her sullen teenage daughter a few paces behind her. It was the daughter who had attracted Lucky’s attention first. This woman would long for the days when her daughter used to draw her pictures, carefully wrap her gifts, desperate for her mother’s approval. Not so anymore…

Lucky knew all of this in an instant, and the knowledge made her feel like she was floating. The woman was looking back at her daughter, asking her to hurry up while the teenager rolled her eyes and moved even slower. Lucky didn’t like that girl, because that girl had no idea how fortunate she was. It wasn’t fair.

Lucky got into position. The woman slammed into Lucky, and Lucky hit the ground. She’d have a bruise on her backside for sure, but there was always a price to be paid. Her dad had taught her that, too.

The package hit the concrete, and the glass inside made a shattering sound.

The woman turned to see Lucky sprawled on the sidewalk in front of the mall. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. “Are you okay?” She bent down to help Lucky up. But Lucky stayed where she was and thought of the saddest thing she could imagine: her own mother, Gloria, being absent from her life. How that teenage girl didn’t have a clue. Her eyes filled with bitter, angry, heartbroken tears. Lucky sat up, took her head in her hands, and started to rock back and forth on the concrete.

“My mother,” she sobbed. “That gift is for her birthday. I spent all my money, I’d been saving for months. It was a surprise for my mom. She’s sick, oh, oh, oh, what am I going to do now?” Another gasping sob. She slowly got onto her hands and knees and reached for the box a few feet away. “Listen,” she said, shaking it. “It’s broken. It’s ruined!”

The mother was in a state of despair. She looked from Lucky to her daughter to Lucky again. The daughter just rolled her eyes and muttered something about her mother being so clumsy and embarrassing, which made Lucky cry harder.

“Hush, hush,” the mother said as she took a packet of tissues out of her handbag and gave one to Lucky.

“Thank you,” Lucky said, and wiped her face with it. The woman looked at the box in Lucky’s hands, took in the heart, the flower, To Mom.

“What was it?” she asked in a soft voice, while her sullen daughter stood with her arms crossed a few paces away.

“Mom,” the teen said, “I’ll meet you at the food court in an hour, okay?” She walked away without waiting for an answer.

“What was the gift?” the woman again asked Lucky.

“A f-f-figurine. R-r-royal D-d-doulton. The one of Princess Diana. My mother is a b-big fan. I saved all year. Oh no, oh no no no.”

“Did you buy it here? At this mall?”

“N-no. I just came here for a card. I got the figurine at a special antiques dealer downtown. He said they’re very hard to find.” Another sob. “I can’t believe this. I have the worst luck, the very worst. I just wanted to make my mommy happy.”

The woman reached out and touched Lucky’s arm. Perfect. It was working.

“How much did the figurine cost?” she asked.

“A hundred and forty-five dollars.” Lucky’s heart was pounding in her ears. “I sh-should get home. Mom’s waiting for me.”

“Come with me,” the woman said. “It’s going to be all right.” Lucky followed the woman through the front doors of the mall and to an ATM, where the woman took out $160 and gave it all to Lucky. “A little extra,” she said. “So you can get her a nice card. And maybe a little treat for yourself. You’re such a sweet little girl. Your mother must be so, so proud of you.”