Lucky Charm (3 page)

K
atani was surprised to find herself in an empty house when she arrived home. Her Grandma Ruby, the principal at Abigail Adams Junior High, had stayed late at school with her sister Kelley. Her parents were both still at work, and her sister Patrice was probably at basketball practice. “Wow, it’s all mine.” She hugged herself and twirled around.

Katani was the youngest in a family of four girls. Her family sometimes teased her about being the baby, which was funny because Katani was the tallest of them all. Even though she was the youngest, Katani sometimes felt that she had the most responsibility. After all, she was the one who spent more time looking after her sister Kelley than anyone. Not only did they both go to the same school, but they also shared a room. When Avery first heard about Kelley being autistic, she’d rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, I hate being around those artsy types.”

“Not ARTISTIC,” Katani stressed. “AUTISTIC.”

Then Katani had patiently tried to explain to her friends about a disability that even the experts still don’t completely understand. She always described it the way Grandma Ruby did. As we grow, most of us learn to filter out most of the things our senses pick up. That way we can learn to focus on what’s important to us. Autistic people have a faulty filter system. They live in a blizzard of sights, sounds, smells, and textures, so ordinary situations can become very overwhelming. Kelley was especially sensitive to sound and color.

Katani loved colors, but too much color made Kelley jittery. So Katani and her mother had fashioned pretty canvas blinds that rolled up and down to go over Katani’s bookshelves to cover her collection of bright objects and books. On days like this when Kelley was away, Katani couldn’t wait to pull up the roller shades, crank up the stereo, and really enjoy her room…by herself!

She pulled out her favorite Beyoncé CD, turned up the volume, and rocked out. Even though she wasn’t the world’s greatest dancer, she loved to go crazy in the privacy of her own room. Katani had turned up her stereo so loud that she could feel the music through her feet. She danced her way to her closet to find the perfect outfit for tomorrow. Well, actually, two perfect outfits for tomorrow: one for rain and one for sunshine.
If it does rain, I’ll look great. If it doesn’t, I’ll look even better!
she thought proudly.

“Katani! Katani!” Mrs. Summers called from the door. Too busy dancing and sorting through her jewelry for the perfect accessories, Katani didn’t hear her mother call.

When she felt a tap on her shoulder, she jumped a mile. “Katani, we’re home!” Mrs. Summers shouted over the
music. “Turn the music down and…” She nodded to the bookshelves.

“Oh, Mom! I just got here! Can’t I just have a few minutes in my own room…all by myself?”

Mrs. Summers didn’t have time to answer. Even over the loud music, Katani could hear her sister, Kelley, skipping down the hallway. When Kelley appeared at the door, she instantly clapped her hands over her ears. “Too loud! TOO LOUD!” she screamed.

Katani reached over and snapped the volume down on the song just when it was getting to her favorite part. Katani thought it was ironic that Kelley was sensitive to sound, since she was usually the loudest one in the house.

Mrs. Summers edged closer to Katani. “Your sister’s a little…agitated this afternoon so…” she nodded again to the shelves.

“Why can’t I have my own room with a lock on the door?” Katani mumbled to herself as she lowered the blinds. “None of my friends have to worry about not having colorful posters or keeping their stereos turned down.”

Kelley’s side of the room was lit by soft bulbs that muted the colors in the room. Katani hated the red light bulbs. They made her feel like she was living on Mars. Katani was hanging her clothes back in the closet when her mother’s cell phone rang. Mrs. Summers took the call in the hall, but Katani overheard enough of the conversation to know that her mother was irritated.

“Great, that’s just what I need,” Mrs. Summers said, pulling her PDA from her worn, brown briefcase and entering in an appointment.

“A deposition…tomorrow morning. How inconvenient! That really cuts into my family time. I’ll have to rearrange my entire schedule. That means I’ll have to shuffle some things around.” She clicked off her phone and turned to Katani. “I’m sorry honey, but I need you to walk Kelley to her physical therapist tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, Mom, I can’t tomorrow. It’s the first day of the Brookline 300 Festival.”

“You can go on Sunday,” Mrs. Summers suggested.

“But my friends are all going tomorrow. We have PLANS.”

“Well your plans are just going to have to change,” Mrs. Summers said matter-of-factly.

“Mom! That’s SO unfair!”

“I’m sorry, Katani, but your father is working overtime, Grandma Ruby has her optometrist appointment tomorrow, and Patrice has basketball. Even if Kelley didn’t have an appointment, you would have had to stay home with her.”

Katani groaned. Why did she have to be the responsible one? It just wasn’t fair that she always had to be so grown up, especially when Kelley was her older sister.

“So, how am I supposed to get to the physical therapist’s office? Take a cab or something?” Katani asked.

“No, you can walk. We’re seeing a new physical therapist, and her office is only a couple of blocks away. These appointments usually last an hour and a half, but this one might take a little longer. They are finishing up assessing Kelley’s strengths and weaknesses. Last week it took more than three hours.”

“Three hours! I have to stay there three hours?”

“It probably won’t take quite that long, and I promise you, honey, I will do my best to get there before she’s finished. I need to meet with the therapist after her appointment anyway. It would help to have you there. I have another deposition tomorrow afternoon, so as soon as the appointment is done, I’ll need you to walk your sister home again.”

Katani threw up her hands. “This is definitely not fair.”

“Be thankful for all the gifts you have, Katani,” Mrs. Summers said in a very low voice. “I’m certain Kelley would give anything to be as lucky as you and your sisters are.”

Katani could hear Kelley rummaging through the kitchen.

She knew that her mother was right. But it was just so hard some days to have Kelley for a sister. Kelley was really out of sorts today. Katani heard her mom moving about the laundry room, which was off the kitchen. Mrs. Summers was chucking an old tennis shoe and blanket into the dryer and turning it on air. For some reason, curling up with Mr. Bear on top of the dryer as it clunked and rocked made Kelley feel calmer. It was so effective that Grandma Ruby had even considered having a dryer installed at school.

Katani sunk back on her bed. She did feel sad for Kelley. Her sister would never go to college, never drive a car or be a completely independent adult. Kelley would always need help from other people.

Katani looked over at the two outfits lying on her bed. She had worked hard to find the perfect ensemble for tomorrow, and now it didn’t even matter. Rain or shine—Katani Summers would be playing babysitter to her older sister. It was a fact. Her fun, relaxing weekend was ruined.

To Go or Not to Go

All through grade school, Katani rarely had friends over. No play dates, no working together on science projects, no slumber parties. That was because Katani could never be sure what Kelley might do or say. Until this year, most of Katani’s friends were frightened by Kelley’s outbursts.

But now, for the first time in her life, Katani wasn’t embarrassed to bring friends home. The BSG truly understood about Kelley and her autism. And Kelley was comfortable around the BSG. When she saw them in the hall at school, Kelley always wanted to hug them. When they came over to the house, Kelley wanted to play with them. Somehow it worked out okay.

Katani was pleased that her sister had started to feel comfortable around the Beacon Street Girls. But at the same time, she really wished that she could have something all to herself. It was enough that she had to share her room and the responsibility; she didn’t want to have to share her friends all the time with her sister too. Most of the time Katani was okay with having to make some sacrifices for Kelley—that was just what you did for family.

Katani leaned back on her bed and stared at the outfits she picked out to wear to the festival tomorrow. She knew she was feeling crabby, but she just couldn’t help herself.

A small voice inside cautioned her that taking Kelley to the festival could be trouble. If Kelley couldn’t handle noise or the colors of Katani’s room, how was she going to handle a festival? Hello! Sensory overload!

Katani focused on convincing herself that taking Kelley to the festival was the right decision. After all, having “age-appropriate peer social interaction”—which was often what Katani’s parents said when they wanted Katani to include Kelley in her activities—would be good for Kelley.

“Well…they can’t have it both ways,” she muttered to herself. “They can’t insist that I include Kelley and then suddenly decide that I
can’t
include her.”

M
arty jumped on the bed at precisely 6:43 a.m. Saturday morning and pawed at Charlotte’s arm. It was barely light yet.

Charlotte moaned and rolled over. She liked it better when it was light at six in the morning.

Marty didn’t care whether it was light out or not. He wanted to go out and he made that very clear to Charlotte by licking her on the face. When she covered her face with her arm, he resorted to nipping and pulling at the sleeve of her fuzzy pajamas.

“Okay. Okay! I get the message!” Charlotte relented, throwing back her covers.

Marty danced around Charlotte’s feet as she pulled on her sweats, threw on the blue denim jacket that used to be her mother’s, and headed down the stairs. Even though she tiptoed quietly, the old stairs creaked and groaned as if she were a two-ton elephant.

Marty didn’t care about being quiet. His little toenails
clicked on the wooden steps as he scampered down the stairs.

“Shh! Marty! Let’s not wake up the whole house!” Charlotte scolded as she clipped the leash on Marty’s collar and pushed out the front door into the chilly morning air.

The sky was a bit cloudy, but to the east there was nothing but blue. The rain, which had plagued the girls all week, had finally come to an end.
What glorious timing
, thought Charlotte as she headed toward the park. By the time she was on the field, the sun broke through the clouds and hung low over the Charles River.

But the rain had left its mark. By the time Charlotte and Marty made it home, the little dude’s tiny paws were caked with mud and wet grass. Charlotte bent down and wiped each paw on the towel she kept by the door for that specific purpose.

“Someday, I’m going to teach you how to wipe your feet on the welcome mat,” she said. Charlotte had an hour before she was supposed to meet the BSG (minus Katani) for breakfast, so she sat down at her desk to brainstorm ideas for her article.

At yesterday’s meeting, Ms. Rodriguez reminded the
Sentinel
staff to avoid the passive voice and to use strong verbs and telling detail. “Good writers use their eyes
and
ears when gathering material for a story,” Ms. Rodriguez told them. Then she asked, “What’s in your notebook?” Charlotte prayed Ms. R wouldn’t march down the aisle and flip open
her
notebook only to see there wasn’t much but a few doodles and a note to do her social studies assignment.

Ms. R said good reporters think about their stories and
seek out angles and details to draw their readers in. “Does your notebook just have stats? Facts? I want to see more than that! Be thinking as you are writing. Write down key words. Write down questions you want to explore further. Be curious. Good writing starts in your reporter’s notebook, NOT on the keyboard.”

Charlotte couldn’t remember Ms. Rodriguez ever being so impassioned. When Charlotte flipped through her skimpy notes, it was as if Ms. Rodriguez had been describing HER notebook. Charlotte decided right then and there that she was going to get a real reporter’s notebook—the long, skinny kind that she could easily slip into her back pocket. The kind that she could easily hold in the palm of her left hand and write on with her right hand, just like a professional newspaper reporter.

Charlotte promised herself she was going to sharpen her observation skills to notice sights and sounds. She would look at people’s expressions and how they moved. She needed to practice gathering what Ms. Rodriguez called “telling details.” The Brookline 300 Festival would be the perfect place to practice.

Charlotte figured she might as well head to the festival early. “There’s no time like the present to work on my reporting skills,” she muttered, putting on her denim jacket. She grabbed her French mesh market bag. It was chic, as Katani had told her, but it was also expandable. Perfect for holding treasures. Maybe there’d be some really cool things at the fair today.

Marty danced at her feet. “Poor little guy,” Charlotte said, bending down and scratching him behind the ear. You’ve
been cooped up inside too much because of this nasty ol’ rain, haven’t you? I know how you feel. I think it’s going to be a great day. Want to come along?”

Marty yipped, excited by the spontaneous invitation.

Charlotte grabbed Happy Lucky Thingy at the last minute and threw it in her bag…just in case. Happy Lucky Thingy was Marty’s favorite chew toy and sort of like a dog pacifier. Charlotte wrote a note to her dad, clipped the leash on Marty, and headed out the door.

Great Beginnings

The old-fashioned bell over the door rang as Charlotte entered Irving’s Toy and Card Shop. Charlotte knew just what she wanted. She walked in past the racks of cards, past the display of newly arrived holiday toys, and headed straight to the stationery section in the middle of the store.

“And how are you on this beautiful morning, Charlotte?” the storeowner, Ethel Weiss, asked from the counter.

“I’m really great, Mrs. Weiss, how about you?”

“I’m so glad it’s not raining today. I want to walk to the festival later.”

Charlotte turned to Mrs. Weiss.
Use your observation skills
, she reminded herself. Mrs. Weiss wore oval glasses that magnified her eyes, which were a beautiful, clear hazel. “Can I help you find something?” she asked as she dumped penny candy into the jars.

“I was hoping to find a reporter’s notebook. I know I’ve seen them here before,” Charlotte said, scanning the shelf.

“Reporter, huh? So are you a budding Lois Lane? No,
no…more the Woodward and Bernstein type, huh?” the proprietor asked.

“I…uh…don’t know.”

“Woodward and Bernstein were investigative reporters during President Nixon’s administration…secret sources, cloak-and-dagger stuff…unraveling mysteries with a sharp mind and number-two pencil,” Mrs. Weiss said, as she handed Charlotte a reporter’s notebook.

Charlotte smiled. Mrs. Weiss had her own unique way with words. Charlotte liked the way she put ideas together. She couldn’t wait to record what Mrs. Weiss had said in her new reporter’s notebook.

“Going to the festival? No?” Mrs. Weiss asked.

“Yes, I’m actually on my way.”

“It should be a great day!”

“A really great day,” Charlotte echoed, thinking it was too bad that Katani wasn’t going to be able to join them until noon. She handed Mrs. Weiss money for the notebook.

“You are taking little Marty with you?” Mrs. Weiss asked, motioning toward the little dude, who sat patiently waiting for Charlotte to finish her purchases.

“Yes, he needs a day out. Poor little guy has been stuck inside all week because of the rain,” Charlotte said.

“Haven’t we all!” she said, handing Charlotte her change.

Charlotte thanked Mrs. Weiss and waved good-bye.

The BSG were supposed to meet at the fairgrounds outside Montoya’s booth at ten. Charlotte was forty-five minutes early, so she sat down on a bench and opened her notebook to write.

Charlotte began by writing quick two-sentence descriptions of the people that passed her as she sat on the bench. She’d filled up three pages before Isabel arrived.

“I think I know what you’re up to,” Isabel said as she sat down next to Charlotte.

“Yes,” Charlotte said, flipping her new reporter’s notebook closed and sticking it in her back pocket. She blushed. “I was just practicing.”

“I did some brainstorming for my cartoons, too, but I’m still stuck for an idea. But, you know me, the last-minute pressure will get my creative juices flowing. It always does.”

Maeve and Avery appeared, and smiles erupted on their faces as Marty bounded toward them.

“Give me a hug, you handsome little thing,” an exuberant Maeve squealed, bending down to greet Marty.

“Marty, my man!” Avery exclaimed as she rushed to him. “Give me five, dude!” She squatted down in front of him and held out her hand.

Avery had been trying to teach Marty for months to raise his paw and slap her hand. Instead, Marty lunged at Avery, and she toppled to the ground. Marty hopped on her chest and began licking her face.

Avery didn’t seem to mind at all, but Charlotte was embarrassed. People were staring. She reached down and helped pull Avery to her feet.

“The delicious smell coming from Montoya’s booth is way too much for me to handle,” Avery said. “What does a girl have to do to get a donut around here?” In no time, the girls were equipped with hot chocolate and warm cinnamon donuts.

Charlotte wanted to be able to write about how great the donuts smelled, but she was so hungry, she just couldn’t wait. She bit into the soft, still-warm donut. Was there anything better? She tried to think of what words she could use to describe the experience so that when readers read her words, their stomachs would rumble, their mouths would water, and they would instantly crave one.

She was beginning to understand what Ms. Rodriguez had meant by “telling detail.” It wasn’t enough just to flesh out a story with words that took up space. The words had to be based on details…what did she call them…oh, yes…
salient
details that made the dull, lifeless words come alive so that the reader felt like they were there!

“Charlotte, hurry up!” Avery said. “Stop writing and finish eating. If we don’t hurry, there’ll be a line at the batting cages.”

“You and your batting cages.” Charlotte shook her head.

When she stood up she noticed that some donut crumbs had landed in her hair. Just as she began to brush them out, she looked over and saw Nick waving to her from behind the counter at the bakery booth.
Figures
. Charlotte quickly wiped the sugar from the corners of her mouth, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Hey. Can I take control of the little guy?” Avery asked.

“He’s all yours.” Charlotte carefully handed over Marty’s leash. She’d somehow managed to keep from tripping over the leash all morning, but now that she was in sight of Nick, anything could happen.

“Avery, wait!” Charlotte called as Avery trotted off. “I
brought Happy Lucky Thingy—just in case he starts getting restless.” Marty’s favorite chew toy was always good to have on hand when they took Marty on an adventure.

“Thingy is starting to look a little sketchy!” Maeve said.

Isabel nodded. “I think he needs a dry cleaning. Or maybe we should replace him,” Isabel said.

“Happy Lucky Thingy is Marty’s favorite toy. Think about the sentimental value,” Avery added. Happy Lucky Thingy was the only toy that Avery brought with her from Korea when her parents adopted her as a baby.

“But look at him, Avery. Marty has ‘loved’ Happy Lucky Thingy’s happy face and mad face so much—you can’t tell which side is which,” Isabel laughed.

“I see what you mean, but we can’t get rid of his toy. It would be like Charlotte not having her mom’s denim jacket,” Avery insisted.

“Okay. Fine, but let’s get going.” Maeve was itching to start circulating at the festival.

Avery jammed Happy Lucky Thingy into her sports bag, and she and Marty dashed off down the path.

“Hey Avery, slow down!” Maeve called. “I want to look at some of the vendors.”

“Wait up!” Charlotte called.

“Look, there’s Razzberry Pink,” Charlotte said to Isabel.

Razzberry Pink’s booth was the standard white canopy, but she had dressed it up with a dozen shades of pink. Draped around the edges were all kinds of specialty lights hanging from the canopy—pink flamingos, pink elephants, and tons and tons of pink twinkle lights. Just like at her shop, Think Pink, there was a wide array of pink goods, but prominently
displayed was a T-shirt with paw prints all over it.

Maeve found a pair of pink sunglasses with pink glitter at the edges and slipped them on. “Good morning, dahlings,” she said dramatically in her best movie star voice. “They’re just right for me, don’t you think?”

“Good morning BSG,” Ms. Pink said with a contagious smile. “I know just how to put you in the pink this morning. How about a Brookline T-shirt? The proceeds help benefit the local pet shelter. And look: It’s pink!”

“Thanks, but we’re just looking for now,” Isabel said.

Marty woofed and wagged his tail.

“Hey! I know this little guy,” Ms. Pink said. “He’s Klondike Pink…right? Last time I saw this pup, he had on pink earmuffs and a pink scarf.”

“Please…leave the man some dignity!” Avery said as she walked away from Ms. Pink’s booth. The girls waved good-bye and continued on their way.

Like Razzberry Pink’s, most of the booths set up along the main section of the fair were donating a small portion of their profits to various Brookline charitable organizations like the homeless shelter, the soup kitchen, meals on wheels, or the animal rescue project run by Dr. Barlow for a local pet shelter.

“Whoa! Look over there!” Maeve exclaimed. She pointed at a man wearing a baseball hat and a Red Sox jersey.

“You mean that really cute, tall, dark, and handsome guy?” Isabel asked.

“That’s not SOME guy,” exclaimed Avery. “That’s the new Sox phenom, Robbie Flores.”

“Who? Flowers? What?” Maeve asked.

“Not flowers, silly. Flores. What planet are you from, Maeve?” Avery asked.

“Planet Hollywood,” Maeve shot back with a huge smile.

“Well…Miss Hollywood, the rest of us in Boston know that that guy right there is the rookie right fielder on the fast track to being the Rookie of the Year because of his amazingly powerful bat.”

“OH,” Maeve said, eyeing the right fielder.

“He’s batting over .325 this season and has 75 RBIs,” Avery said.

“What’s an RBI?” Charlotte asked.

“Runs Batted In…Hello! I thought you were all loyal Red Sox fans?”

“I am!” Charlotte asserted. “I just don’t really know the right words or all the players yet.”

“Well…I still have a soft spot in my heart for the Tigers,” Isabel added.

Avery was outraged. “The Tigers! They’re at the bottom of the league!”

“Yeah, but in Detroit, they are as loved as the Red Sox are in Boston,” Isabel argued. “My dad says to wait until next season. They’re in a rebuilding year.”

“More like a massive rebuilding decade,” Avery said, rolling her eyes again.