Bad Luck Girl (20 page)

“Mr. Sweeny.” Mama stepped sideways so she could
look him right in the eye. “If you cannot produce those papers, I have to assume this is not in fact a legal eviction, and I will be forced to call the police.”

“Papers! Papers!” the crowd shouted. “Sweeny, show the papers!” The baby was wailing as loud as any of them. Their anger got through my fairy senses and burned the underside of my bones.

So did Ben Hollander’s. “I told you to get home!” Ben grabbed me by the arm and the next thing I knew, the world spun and I toppled down the steps into the arms of some lady in a black dress who smelled like garlic and cigarettes.

Up on the porch, Mama spun around and backhanded Ben Hollander right across the face. The crowd booed and jeered, but the brothers had already swung into action. Simon dropped the linens he carried and grabbed Mama’s arm. Benny’s fist drove straight into her stomach. Mama doubled over without making a sound. Simon let her fall to her knees.

The world went silent. The world went red. I didn’t feel myself move. I was back on that porch and on my knees beside Mama. Her mouth was gaping open as she tried to breathe, but she couldn’t. Her eyes near popped out of her skull from the pain, and she was heaving like she was trying to gasp for air and vomit at the same time. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

“You’re gonna be sorry for this, Benjamin Hollander,” I was saying. “You too, Simon Hollander! You’re gonna be sorry you were ever born!”

The brothers’ eyes widened as the magic in my words lashed out. I had no shape for them, no intent, only my anger and that one wish. They were both going to be so, so sorry.

Right then Benny Hollander started to cry. Simon stared at him for one second, his jaw flapping so loose the cigarette tumbled to the ground. Then he started to cry too, his teeth ground tight around the place his cigarette used to be as the fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

The crowd fell silent, stunned by the sight of two muscled thugs sobbing like the biggest pair of babies Chicago ever produced. Then somebody chuckled, and somebody else guffawed, and the laughter rose up as loud and as mean as the shouting had been a minute ago.

“What the hell’s the matter with you two?” Sweeny stomped up to Benny and shoved him. Benny just cried harder and the crowd jeered. Sweeny pushed on Simon’s shoulder, and Simon stumbled backward, and howled. Tears dripped off Simon’s jaw. Ben buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook. Even through the red and scorching anger that had hold of me, I felt the sorrow overwhelming them and it felt sweet. Truly, terribly, deeply sweet.

I smiled and tightened my arm around Mama’s shoulders.

“Callie,” she croaked. “Get me out of here.”

I tried to stand her up, but I staggered. I’d gone lightheaded and wobbly. The magic I’d used on top of everything that had already happened had taken all the wind out of me. It didn’t matter. Someone else was beside us. More than one
someone. Strangers—men and women both—gently helped Mama to her feet, and me with her. They guided us down the stairs to the sidewalk, murmuring soothing words. Two other women gathered up her market baskets. The men formed a wedge to walk us through the crowd, which was still jeering at the Hollanders. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw the evicted woman walk back up those steps, still carrying her baby.

“Well, Sweeny?” she said shrilly. “You got them papers?”

“Come on,
liebchen
.” One of the women turned my head forward. “We get your modder home. Where you live?”

We walked away, surrounded by those strangers. Behind us, it sounded like the crowd had surged up the porch. It sounded like Sweeny was yelling at them, and then there was just more yelling and no telling who was doing it or what they were saying. I didn’t look. I didn’t dare.

The strangers walked me and Mama all the way up into the Hollanders’ building. Mrs. Burnstein poked her head out her door as soon as we got inside. She exclaimed something I couldn’t understand, and one of the other women answered her. Next thing I knew, Mrs. Burnstein had gotten ahead of us on the stairs. She clucked and chattered, and, more important, opened the door of the apartment. She showed no surprise at the way the back room had been transformed. I didn’t even know for sure if she could see it. All I did know was she was giving orders in whatever language they all spoke, and those other strangers were obeying. The women
laid Mama down on the bed and shooed all the men out. Mrs. Burnstein shut the door and pulled the drapes. Together, grim faced and efficient, those women got Mama out of her dress. A dark blob of a bruise was already spreading across her stomach and more bruises were darkening her forearm where Simon had grabbed her. Mrs. Burnstein made an exclamation, and spread her hands across Mama’s stomach.

“Is she okay?” I was cold. I was shaking and groping for my magic, but it wouldn’t come. Why couldn’t I get my hands around my power? Mama was dying. They’d killed her and I couldn’t do anything to save her.

“She will be fine.” Mrs. Burnstein laid one gnarled hand gently on Mama’s arm over the bruises. “Nothing broken, thank God. And the swelling is not bad.”

“Callie,” Mama croaked.

I grabbed her hand. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Did they—”

“No.” I cut her off quickly. “Nobody hurt me. I’m fine. You rest. Mrs. Burnstein says you’ll be okay.”

“Yes, I will. Just as soon as I get my breath. Thank you. All of you. Callie, make sure …”

“Yes, Mama.” I knew what she wanted me to do. We’d done this before, back in Kansas, when neighbors had come around to help. I knew how it worked. You accepted what you absolutely needed, and no more than that. You made sure everyone was thanked, and you offered coffee and whatever sweets were on hand. But most of all, you got them out
of there as fast as was polite. You had to show you could take care of your own on your own, whether that was true or not.

It turned out these people understood that as well as anybody in Slow Run would have. The women let me walk them out into the front room, where the men were talking in low voices. I thanked them all for their help and I meant it down to my bones. I told them Mama would be fine and tried to mean that too. When I offered coffee, they all declined. They told me I was a good girl and that Mama was a brave woman and I should make sure she got her rest. I assured them I would, and I showed them all to the front door, Mrs. Burnstein included, even as she reminded me for the third time she was right downstairs if I needed anything.

I closed the door. I walked over to the dining table without knowing why and stood there staring at it. Mama had all but scrubbed the varnish off trying to get it clean. There was a smell of lemons.

I was shaking again. I grabbed the back of the nearest chair and squeezed it hard. I squeezed my eyes shut too. I couldn’t cry. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t un-magicked the Hollander brothers, they wouldn’t have been able to hit Mama. If I hadn’t gone off and left her alone, I’d’ve been there before the trouble even started. It was all my fault. But I would not cry. I had to get back in there and sit with Mama so she wouldn’t be alone. I could
not
cry.

The door downstairs banged and heavy feet ran up the stairs. The sound of hoarse sobs came with them and I straightened up fast. The flat door slammed back, and Benny
and Sy stumbled in. Their eyes and faces were red. Tears still streamed down their cheeks. Benny had a black eye. Simon was holding his wrist, and blood ran down from his flattened nose. They both stared at me, wild-eyed and weeping.

I turned around, walked into the back room, and shut the door.

The Hollander brothers were still crying when Jack got in. I was in the back room, sitting next to the bed, but I heard him out there. Mama had let me cover her up with one of the sheets, despite how stuffy it had gotten, and now she was asleep, breathing deeply, with one hand sprawled across her stomach. In the other room, Jack was asking his brothers what was the matter. The only answer they gave was more hoarse sobs. Jack started shouting. I think he shook one of them, and they just kept on crying.

Jack barged into the back room.

“Callie! Something’s wrong with …” He saw Mama in the bed and me in the chair and stopped dead. “What happened?”

“They … they were evicting somebody in the next street. Mama tried to stop them, and Ben hit her.” Just thinking about it made my hands curl up tight into fists.

“God Almighty,” whispered Jack. “Is she okay?”

“Just sleeping.”

“Callie …” He glanced toward the door, and the sound of his crying brothers. “What did you do?”

I looked at him.

A kind of palsy took over Jack’s face as expression and feeling chased their tails round inside him. He swayed on his feet. It was like he wanted to come closer to me at the same time as he wanted to get away, but he couldn’t make himself do either.

I pulled the sheet up a little farther around Mama’s shoulders.

“You’re … you’re gonna stop it, right?” said Jack. “I mean, what they did, it was lousy. They always were lousy, but your ma’s gonna be all right, isn’t she? You can stop it now.”

“Jack,” I whispered. “I don’t think I can.”

“Don’t talk like that, Callie.” He grabbed my arm. He was trying hard to force his voice to be cheerful, but what came out was worse than if he’d just given in and shouted at me. “I know you’re upset, but we’ll just make a wish out of it. Come on. You know how this works.”

He pulled, but I didn’t budge. “I thought I did. But this is different.”

“What’s different? How is it different?”

“I don’t know. But it is.”

One finger at a time, Jack let go of me. He pulled off his cap and scrubbed his head, hard, the way he did when he
was trying to keep his feelings locked inside. “Look, look, I know you’re mad, but you can’t just leave them like that.” Jack’s calm was as weak and forced as the good cheer had been a second before, and the panic was showing through just as plain.

I twisted my fingers.

“Just come out and have a look, Callie,” he pleaded. “You can stop this. I know you can. You were just mad. Please.” He crouched down in front of me and took up both my hands in his. “They’re lousy, but they’re my
brothers
. You got to try.”

He was scared. I didn’t need any magic senses to feel it. He was as scared as I’d ever seen him, and I couldn’t stand it, especially not with his hands holding mine. This was one more thing that was my fault. No matter what I thought about his brothers, I couldn’t leave Jack so afraid.

I smoothed the sheet down over Mama, taking note of how her breathing was still deep and even. Then I followed Jack into the front room.

The smoky evening light shone red through the clean windows. Simon had fallen onto the sofa. The light turned his pale skin bloody. For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t have a cigarette between his teeth. Instead, he’d stuffed one fist into his mouth, trying to silence his own sobs. His half-moon eyes were screwed up tight, but the tears still trickled out of them.

As bad as Simon was, Ben was worse. Jack’s oldest brother hunched in the corner, his knees pressed up against
his chest and his bugged-out, bloodshot eyes staring at nothing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please, I’m sorry.”

It could have been funny, but it wasn’t. The Hollander brothers were crying themselves into sickness and exhaustion and they couldn’t stop. My magic was in charge of them now and there wasn’t one thing they could do about it.

I tried to take a deep breath and calm down. Jack stared down at them, wide-eyed and pale, waiting for me to do something to fix what I’d already done to his brothers. I crouched down in front of Ben so I could see into his eyes. Why couldn’t they look less like Jack’s? I pried open my magic, and turned it outward toward both brothers.

Looking at Ben and Simon through my magic senses was like looking in a mirror. I saw myself there—my power and my wish. But I couldn’t tell where the magic ended and the men began any more than I could have felt the edges of a reflection in glass. There wasn’t any crack or fissure I could wedge my power into. This wish I’d made by accident was stronger than anything I’d done on purpose.

I closed my magic down slowly, and turned my face up to Jack.

“Oh, no,” he breathed. “No, Callie. Try again.”

I didn’t get the chance. The front door opened, and Papa ran in.

“Where’s your mother?” Papa asked. “Is she all right?”

“She’s in our room. She …”

“I know.” Papa tossed his hat aside and strode across the
room. I stood up, slowly. I was shaking again. I wanted to stop shaking. I wanted to know what to do, or at least how to explain. But of course I didn’t need to explain. Papa’d probably known about the whole thing as soon as it happened.

Papa grabbed Simon’s face in both hands and used his thumbs to pry the younger man’s eyes open. Simon didn’t even struggle. He just stared into my father’s fairy eyes until Papa let him go. Simon fell back and buried his face in his hands again.

Papa hurried into the back room. We waited. My heart was in my mouth the whole time and I couldn’t think of one word to say to Jack. He just paced in a tiny circle, scrubbing his head.

My father reemerged and closed the door behind him.

“She’ll be out in a minute,” he said.

I swallowed hard, trying to clear out some space in my head for words to get through. “Papa …”

“Not now, Callie. Just step back.”

I did as I was told. In fact, I backed up until I bumped against the dining room table. Jack moved beside me, but not too close. This wasn’t going to be one of those times when we held hands. That understanding cut clear through me, because it was the first time I really thought about how bad Jack would be hurt if Papa couldn’t fix what I’d done, and soon.

Papa was coaxing Ben to his feet. Ben staggered after Papa, and let himself be placed on the sofa beside his brother. His eyes were wide and terrified. Whatever he stared at, it
wasn’t anything in that room. Oh, I’d done a real good job on him. Papa cupped one hand around each of the brother’s heads. I felt the soothing magic he layered over them, soft and easy. Both the Hollanders blinked at him for a moment. They leaned closer together. Their streaming eyes fluttered shut. First Ben, then Simon drooped, and fell back, unconscious.