Read It and Weep! (8 page)

Suddenly they heard a yelp.

“Teddy?” they both said at the same time. They rushed into the other room.

“Teddy!” shrieked Lauren, flying over to where the little dog was standing next to the couch. He whimpered and tried to walk toward her, his little stumpy tail wagging feebly, but his front paw was curled under awkwardly.

Her dad had also rushed over, and he crouched at Lauren's side, examining Teddy. He picked him up gently. “Looks like he might have broken his leg,” he said grimly. “Get me a couch cushion, a small one.”

Lauren grabbed a cushion and handed it to her father, her eyes wide with horror.

“Probably landed funny when he jumped off the couch,” said her dad. “Turn off the stuff on the stove, okay? Then find my keys and my wallet. I think they're in my jacket pocket. You can call Dr. Stone from the car and let him know we're on our way.”

Two hours later, Lauren and her dad were heading home from the vet. Teddy lay on the cushion in Lauren's lap, apparently still woozy from his procedure. His front right leg had been shaved of all its fur well past his elbow, and his lower paw was encased in a bright red cast. She stroked him gently.

“Poor little guy,” said her dad, reaching out a hand to pet the little dog. “Such a freak accident, too. He's jumped off that couch about a thousand times. Guess this was just an unlucky day for him.”

Lauren was lost in thought. She was thinking about the card. She was thinking about the text she'd gotten. How it had threatened her dog. She couldn't believe she was thinking this, but it couldn't be just a coincidence. It's not as though someone could have been in the house and pushed him off the couch. Of course it could all just be nothing more than random bad luck. But still. She was thinking that maybe the change in fortune Aunt Marina had talked about wasn't just a bunch of superstitious nonsense after all.

Later, after they'd finally had their dinner and her dad had retired to his office to grade papers, Lauren slipped outside with a flashlight. She opened the lid to the trash can and shined the light inside. Luckily, the card was sitting right on top and she didn't have to do any digging through the trash.

She fished it out and put it into her pocket. Then she tiptoed back inside.

Upstairs in her room she studied the card under the light of her reading lamp. She turned it over, reading and rereading the message scrawled across the back. It looked as though it had been written so very long ago. The ink was faded and scratched in some places. She thought about the threatening text she'd gotten. There was no way the texter was the same person that had written this message on the back of the card. That texter
had
to have been some kid hacking her phone, and Teddy's accident was just bad luck. Because no one pushed Teddy off the couch.

And yet, Lauren couldn't deny it. Despite her logical and analytical mind she could not deny that this card really did seem to bring the bearer bad luck. It was too much of a coincidence that when she'd gotten the card back from Charlotte at lunch, she'd almost immediately choked on a bite of cookie. And then she'd skipped a scene at play practice. And broken her necklace. And missed the bus. And—poor Teddy. She shivered. Then she sat, lost in thought, for quite some time.

By the time she was ready for bed, she'd come to a decision. She was going to slip the card into Charlotte's backpack the next day, without Charlotte knowing. After all, it was Charlotte's card.

Chapter 10

The next day in science, Charlotte's teacher, Mr. Madden, walked around the classroom, passing back tests. He placed Charlotte's gently on the desk in front of her, face down. Charlotte didn't like the look he gave her. Somewhere between bewilderment and disappointment.

Slowly she turned it over. A seventy-six? On a
science
test? She quickly put it back down on the desk, her ears burning, her mouth dry. This was the worst grade she'd gotten, possibly ever. She turned it back over and looked at it quickly. Oh. She had switched around the formulas for weight and acceleration. How could she have done something like that?

At lunch Charlotte was heading toward her table carrying her lunch tray, her heavy backpack on her back, when her right foot stepped on a slippery patch on the floor. Her foot slid forward, causing her to lose her balance and fall backward.

Crash!

Applause.

Humiliation, as a teacher and a girl she didn't know helped her to her feet and began picking up the spilled contents of her tray.

Lauren and Gwen and Cassie and several others from her lunch table helped get her another lunch and were really nice about it of course, but Charlotte noticed that Lauren had a weird look on her face. An anxious look.

There were no further mishaps that afternoon, until English class, which was the last period of the day. During the second half of class they watched part of the film of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. Ms. Zarchin paused the film at the end of act 2, and turned on the lights.

“We can watch more on Monday,” she said. “Charlotte, would you mind bringing the DVD back to the library? The bell's going to ring in a few minutes, so you had better pack up your things so you can head directly out to your bus after that.”

Charlotte packed up and took the DVD from Ms. Zarchin.

The library was on the first floor, but her English class was at the end of a very long wing, so it was a good hike from her classroom. The bell hadn't yet rung, and the hallways were still empty.

Mrs. Barber, the school librarian, was just putting on her sweater when Charlotte came in. “Oh, hello, Charlotte,” she said. “I'm on bus duty this afternoon. What do you need?”

“Just returning the DVD,” said Charlotte.

“Lovely.” She took the DVD and scanned it into the system, and then handed it back to Charlotte. “Can you put it in the AV room on the ‘To be Reshelved' cart? I'm late already. Then be sure to lock the door when you leave—DVDs have a way of walking off!”

Charlotte promised she would, and Mrs. Barber hurried away.

The light switch was outside the room. Charlotte flicked it on and walked in, threading her way through carts of projectors and televisions toward the back wall, where the DVDs were kept. She'd just set the DVD on the cart when her phone buzzed. It was a text.

I told you to pass it on.

Her stomach dropped and a bolt of fear shot through her. She was still staring at the text on her phone when the door suddenly swung closed. Then the light went out.

“Hey!” yelled Charlotte, moving toward the door and immediately bashing her hip against a rolling cart. “Ow! Hey! I'm in here!” Her voice came out thin and high and panicky.

Whoever had closed the door either didn't hear her, or ignored her.

It was pitch-dark. Like black construction paper. No light whatsoever.

“Don't panic,” Charlotte muttered to herself, but already she could feel her heart racing, her palms sweating. “Just get to the door. Open the door. Everything will be fine.”

Then she remembered her cell phone. She could use it as a flashlight! With trembling hands she clicked it on. A dim but usable light emanated from its screen, allowing her to see her path to the door. She held it up with a shaky hand, so it could illuminate her way.

And promptly dropped the phone.

She heard it clatter and skitter across the floor. Its dim light vanished, and now she was back in the dark. She dropped to her hands and knees, still wearing her heavy backpack, which shifted around and almost made her fall over. She readjusted it and then felt around, patting every inch of the floor in search of the phone. Her breathing was shallow, her heart pounding in her ears. She tried not to think of that day, so many years ago, when she'd felt the hand on her shoulder. But of course, she did think of it. Why did her mind go directly to the memories she most wanted to forget? Like when you have a sore inside your mouth and your tongue insists on prodding that sore place.

Her hand closed around the phone. With a surge of relief, she clicked it on.

Nothing happened.

Had she broken it when she'd dropped it? That ruled out any possibility of calling someone to come rescue her. But that was silly anyway. All she had to do was get to the door without having a full-blown panic attack. She kept moving forward on hands and knees, negotiating her way around rolling carts and tangles of heavy wires. And then she could see light shining underneath the heavy door.

She stood up, moved toward the door, and felt where the doorknob was.

It didn't budge.

She was locked in.

A new wave of panic surged through her, all the way down to her toes. She pounded on the door with the heel of her hand.

“Help!” she yelled. “Someone let me out of here! Hello? Anyone there?”

The janitor must have come by and locked up, she reasoned. What if she was here all night? What if Mrs. Barber didn't return to the library after her bus duty? What if this room was completely soundproof? Then she remembered it was Friday. What if she was stuck here all weekend?

She pounded harder, trying not to cry.

“Someone! Help!” More pounding. Rattling of the knob. “I'm locked in here! Help! Hello?”

More pounding. More frantic rattling. The lump in her throat felt like a golf ball. Her pulse was racing. She pounded until her hands went numb, expecting at any second to feel the hand on her shoulder.

And that's when she could have sworn she felt something brush through her hair. Fingers? Spiders?

She yelled for another half a minute, although in her terror it felt like hours.

And then she heard the doorknob turn. The door swung open.

She slung herself out of the door and into the library, blinking at the sudden brightness, and bent over and shook her hair out. Thankfully there were no bugs in it, although that begged the question of what had brushed through it.

She righted herself and scanned the room. There was no one in the library. How had the door come unlocked? She turned and looked at the lock. The doorknob could only be locked or unlocked with a key. Could it have come unstuck somehow, when she'd been rattling the knob?

It seemed unlikely. Something very strange and very scary was going on.

Outside the library windows she could see just a few stragglers rushing by, heading for their buses. She hadn't been in the closet very long. Should she try to make her bus? The clock told her it was too late. She'd never make it. Anyway, maybe it was better to walk home. It might calm her down.

Then she remembered the text she'd gotten. She pulled out her phone and clicked the power button.

Now her phone was working again.

She checked the mysterious text. Why would the texter think she still had the card? She'd given it to Lauren. And Lauren had thrown it out.

She thought back to the way Lauren had behaved at lunch today. She'd been almost more upset about Charlotte dropping her tray than Charlotte had been. And her whole demeanor had been odd. Not really looking her in the eye. Furtive darting eyes. A thought struck Charlotte.

“Could Lauren have slipped it back to me?” she asked herself out loud. She set her backpack down on a library table and began rummaging through it.

In the outside pocket her fingers closed on a thick piece of cardboard. She drew out the card.

“I can't believe it,” she whispered, staring at the card in horror. “After all that talk about not being superstitious. Not believing all the mumbo jumbo. And then she passed it back to me. Without telling me.”

Her phone vibrated on the table. Almost afraid to look, she picked it up and checked the text.

Pass it along or your dad won't be coming home.