Florence - Just Lucky

CHAPTER ONE

Just the Three of Us

My mother named me Lucky. I swear. Its on my birth certificate and everything.

My grandma used to tell me that my mom would go to the casino when she was pregnant and rub her belly for luck. Apparently she won a jackpot and decided then and there that I was her good-luck charm. At least until I was born and she discovered she couldnt bring a newborn to the casino for hours at a time. Or forget about her entirely and leave her beside a slot machine while she smoked crack in the parking lot.

That fool girl, as Grandma called her, got herself arrested, and I was left with grandparents who were long done with their own parenting but took over the care and feeding of another kid without a second thought.

So for the past fifteen years, it has just been the three of us: Grandma, Grandpa, and me. Lucky Robinson. Ive only seen my mother a handful of times since she gave me up. She calls every couple of years or so when shes desperate for money, but its been ages since I saw her last. Im not even sure I could pick her out of a police lineup at this point. To be honest, I secretly believe that Ill be asked to do that someday.

I watched the cursor flashing on the screen and then deleted everything I had just written. I was pretty sure Mr. Alexander hadnt had this in mind when he asked us to write a My Story essay for language arts. Maybe I should just make up something a little more PG-rated and get an easy A. Something like: I was born into a happy family with 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, and a golden retriever named Billy the Kid. Or Henry. Or Finn. I dont know. Ive always been bad at naming pets. I once had a stuffed bird named Princess Featherfingers. Dont ask me why. I had a stuffed dog named Mr. Ages Sparklehead too. I was really big on formal titles for my animals apparently.

God, I hate the look of a blank screen. That flashing cursor was definitely judging my lack of a normal family to write about.

Lucky?

In here, Grandma. I could hear the soft hush of her slippers shuffling toward me before I saw her.

Why are you studying in the dining room? she asked, pulling gently on my ponytail, something she had been doing since I was a kid.

Because if I study in my room, Ill fall asleep.

Fair enough. Can you get your grandfather and tell him dinner will be ready soon?

Hes not here.

Hes notwhere is he?

Hes helping Mr. Tate move a couch or a chair or something. Actually, I think its a bed. I dont know. I was only half listening when he told you.

He didnt tell me he was going out. She frowned.

Yes, he did, I said carefully. Remember, Grandma? He told you he had to help movesomething. And you said hed better be back for dinner or youd eat his dessert.

Lemon merengue pie, she finished. His favorite.

Right!

Hmph. All right then. Could you set the table, please?

Sure. I can finish this later. I closed my laptop, ready to leave that judgy blank screen behind for a while. Grandma?

Mmhm? She was gathering up my notebooks in a pile and wiping the table under them.

Are you okay?

She snapped her dish towel at me in response.

Hurry up. Your grandfather will be back from the store any minute.

Hes notyeah, okay I trailed off, staring at her back as she headed toward the kitchen, humming something under her breath that sounded oddly like the theme song from Doctor Who .

CHAPTER TWO

Old, Not Stupid

Grandma was still puttering around the kitchen when my grandfather wandered into the house.

Dinner ready? he asked, hanging his flannel jacket up in the hall closet. I could eat a horse.

I never understood what that meant, I mused. Why would anyone want to eat a horse?

Smartass. He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the head. He smelled like aftershave and outdoors. And a faint, lingering hint of pipe tobacco.

If Grandma catches you smoking, you can forget about dinner, I told him.

Cover for me. Ill go jump in the shower.

She thinks you went to the store, I told him. Her memory is getting worse, isnt it? He studied me for a long moment and then smiled gently.

Shes all right, Lucky. Shes just getting old.

Are you sure thats all it is? Because she left the water running in the shower again this morning. It was like a rain forest in there.

You dont have to worry. Grandma is fine. Shes just forgetful, I promise. It happens when you get old. You forget things. Like I forgot she doesnt like me smoking and had a nice pipe and a coffee with Mr. Tate. He winked.

Oh, thats hilarious. Im sure shell love that one. Why dont we call her in here right now and tell her? I teased. This was our routine. Id worry and hed diffuse it with a joke. It usually worked.

Dont you dare! Just hold her off for five minutes while I shower.

He tousled my hair and dashed from the room. Even at his agewhich I was constantly reminding him was too advanced to be up on ladders or carrying furniturehe still moved at a pace faster than most teenagers.

I tried to ignore it like I always did, but something about Grandma was off, and I couldnt help but wonder if maybe she needed to see her doctor. I had said as much to him before, but he always brushed me off. Grandma had been afraid of doctors since she was a kid, and no matter how you prepared her or promised it was just an exam, she was convinced one was going to randomly pop out and jab her with a needle or something.

Did I hear your grandfather? Grandma poked her head back into the living room, disheveled from the heat of the stove she had been standing over.

Yeah. Hell be down in a second. He just wanted a quick shower.

She smiled. Smoking that damned pipe again?

You know about that? I asked, flabbergasted.

Im old. Not stupid, Lucky. Anyway, he probably needed it after helping Mr. Tate all day. Come grab the pot roast and put it out for me, would you?

All I could manage was a weak nod. Sometimes I worried about her until I made myself sick. Then shed be her usual self again like nothing had happened. My friend Alex said her grandparents were the same, so maybe Grandpa was right, and I was worrying for no reason. Then I thought about the shower that had run for so long that the bathroom was engulfed in a haze so thick I couldnt see my hand in front of my face.

Lucky!

Right! Coming. Id think about it later, I decided, heading into the kitchen to grab the pot roast.

CHAPTER THREE

Comfort

After dinner, Grandma retired to the living room with her remote and a cup of tea.

Jeopardy time! she said happily to no one in particular.

Grandma loved her game shows.

Grandpa was elbows-deep in suds, sponging a glass before putting it on the draining board.

You know shell make you do them all over again if you dont rinse, I reminded him.

Not if you dont tell her, Grandpa flicked some bubbles at me. Grab a towel.

I did, rinsing the dishes with exaggerated movements.

Youre awful! Grandpa laughed. Hurry up though.

Why? Did you want to catch the thrilling second half of Jeopardy ? I asked, gesturing toward the living room where we could hear Grandma shouting at the TV.

The Great Gatsby ! she yelled out.

For someone who cant remember to turn the shower off, she has a pretty amazing memory for literature. I giggled.