Tag: bad luck

The first three pages of my latest story about a hard luck girl looking for her dog.

Judith stepped out of a bush that I’m sure was full of poison ivy. “He’s not here,” she said, scanning the dark shrubbery behind me with her bright LED flashlight. The sun had set hours ago, but Judith’s determination took no rest.

“Juju,” I said to her, trying to calm her down. “I’m sure he’s back at your house now. Dogs are like that. One time, my old dog Rocket ran out the gate.” I made a motion with my hand to imitate a dog running. “The next day, I found him sleeping outside right below my window.”

“I hope he’s okay,” Judith said. She looked down at her dirty Converse, her long brown hair hiding her face. “I need Lucky. He’s gonna be hungry. He’s scared—I feel it.”

I never felt so much worry in her voice before. I turned away from her because I thought she might start to cry, but instead she took a few steps and passed me—she was heading back to our neighborhood, now. I thought I should hug her or something—to try and console her, you know? But I didn’t want to get any poison ivy on me—I get a terrible reaction from the stuff. So I stayed a few feet behind her and followed her back to Longshadow Lane.

Surrounded by an intimate darkness, we flowed over the sidewalk like a pair of tired ghosts. We walked through a path of orange street lamps for about ten minutes, and it was silent—you could only hear our footsteps and a chirping buzz from crickets hidden in the dark grass, humming us all the way back to our houses.

I stopped when we reached the part of the sidewalk that led towards her front porch, but Judith rounded the turn and made a quick inspection all around the outside of her house and backyard. I lost sight of her for a few moments and I sorta hoped that she’d come running back carrying a happy little yapping Beagle safely in her arms. With that image of Judith and Lucky in my mind, I started to yawn and wanted to lie down in my bed waiting for me next door. Then Judith walked back to the spot where she had left me. Her slim arms were sad and empty and I saw no sign of relief in her worried look. She said nothing.

“Lucky’ll be here in the morning,” I told her. “Trust me.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Then she finally looked me in the eyes again, “I need you here again—tomorrow morning—if he still hasn’t come home.”

“Okay,” I said. I nodded at Judith to show my support.

“We gotta find him,” she said. “It’ll be hell without Lucky.”

It didn’t really feel right to say goodnight at that moment, so I turned around and crossed the cracked sidewalk back over to my house without saying anything. I pictured Judith slipping passed her drunken dad, snoring in their living room, when I heard her big front door open and shut in the warm dark air behind me.

I managed to slide myself under the garage door and snuck quietly into my bedroom without waking up my parents. I got into my pajamas, lied down in bed and thought about Judith and her luck. I think the girl’s cursed or something. She’s always had bad luck. Everyone calls her Bad Juju, or Juju, for short. But I remembered that the worst of her luck didn’t actually happen to her.

It happened to her little brother, Henry.

When Judith was about thirteen and Henry twelve, he went out with some of his friends to play football down by the creek next to Esterfeld Community College. Halfway through their game, Henry threw the ball far into an ugly thicket. They all probably would have just left it there, lost in the shrubs, except for the fact that the ball belonged to Henry’s dad. You see, Judith and Henry’s dad used to play QB for Thornton High School—he led the Thornton Tigers to their first and only UIL championship title. So Henry had to find the ball or else he’d probably get his ass beat harder than Tigers had over the last decade because that ball was a game ball from the championship match at old Texas Stadium.

They all searched through that thicket until the sun had set, but Henry was lucky enough to find it. Henry also found an old rifle there, too. . .