The Birthday Party of No Return! Page 3

  “Hey, Arfy — it says I won!” I cried.

  The letter said I won a drawing. My contest card was picked. I won a free pizza dinner for me and my whole family!

  “Wow!” I cried, jumping to my feet. I pumped both fists in the air. I’d never won anything before! Never.

  I read the letter again. I was excited. Free pizza!

  I pulled out the ugly vulture claw. Was it possible? Had the good luck started already?

  I grabbed the slender rope and slid it down over my head. I straightened the claw over the front of my T-shirt.

  A minute ago, I didn’t believe in good-luck charms. But now I believed.

  I’m going to wear this thing forever! I decided.

  Arfy barked again. Then he jumped. He snapped at the claw. He was trying to pull it away from me.

  “No, Arfy!” I screamed.

  I pushed the big dog away with one hand. With the other hand, I tucked the claw out of sight under my T-shirt.

  My elbow bumped the box. A small square of paper fluttered out from inside it.

  Before it hit the floor, Arfy grabbed it in his mouth. He turned and ran off with it, like it was some kind of prize.

  I laughed. He looked so funny. Like a criminal eager to check out his loot.

  I read the pizza letter again and let out a cheer. I felt great.

  I rubbed the claw under my T-shirt. I had a feeling my life was going to change now. I had a feeling everything was going to change.

  And guess what?

  Everything did!

  Mom and Dad were excited about the free dinner at Pizza Planet, too. They said maybe we’d go Friday night.

  I didn’t tell them about the vulture claw. They don’t believe in good-luck charms. Dad is a science teacher, remember. He only believes in science.

  I knew they’d only laugh at me about wearing the claw. That’s why I kept it private. I could feel it against my chest as I sat down for dinner. It felt a little scratchy, but I didn’t care.

  Arfy squeezed past my legs and sat down under the table. That’s where he goes every time we eat. One night a long time ago, a hot dog fell off the table, and Arfy caught it. Now he waits every night for something else to fall.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked.

  “I made those spicy Buffalo chicken wings you like,” Mom said. “And mashed potatoes.”

  “My favorite!” I cried.

  More good luck. This claw was amazing.

  Dinner was awesome. Best Buffalo chicken wings ever.

  “How was the tennis match?” Dad asked. He was wearing his white lab coat. He wasn’t going to be happy when he saw the orange chicken stain on the sleeve.

  “Not great,” I told him. “The sun got in my eyes, and Cory beat me.”

  “Bad luck,” Dad said, shaking his head.

  “That’s no problem,” I said. “I’m going to ask for a rematch. I know I’ll whip his butt next time.”

  Mom frowned at me. “Language,” she said. “That’s not how we talk at the dinner table.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered. I was feeling so good, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to dance around the room screaming my head off.

  I mean, I waited a long time to have a little good luck.

  And guess what? The good luck kept on coming.

  Dad said he had a present for me.

  And what was it? Battle Warrior World 2 for my Nintendo DS. The game I’d been begging him to buy me for months!

  I stared at it wide eyed. My heart was thumping like crazy.

  More good luck. More.

  I couldn’t wait. I shoved the game into my DS and started to blast away with both thumbs.

  “Yes! Yes! Awesome!”

  I beat the first level in less than two minutes!

  Mom and Dad were still eating. Mom made a face at Dad. “I don’t approve of war games.”

  Dad shrugged. He squinted at me. “Lee, you didn’t read the instructions. How come you never stop to read the instructions for anything?”

  “Don’t need them,” I muttered.

  POW POW BLAMMMMBLAMBLAMMMM.

  “Instructions are for babies,” I said. “Look. I’m already on level two. This game is awesome!”

  Dinner was over. Mom said I could go up to my room. I didn’t have to help clean up tonight.

  More good luck!

  I ran up to my room and shut the door. I remembered something. My grades.

  Miss Harrison, my science teacher, said our grades might be posted online today.

  I let out a sigh. I knew this wasn’t going to be my best report card. I’d messed up on two math tests. Just bad luck. I studied the wrong pages.

  And I handed in a history paper two days late. I don’t know why. I’d been carrying it around in my backpack. And I just forgot to hand it in.

  So … I wasn’t expecting the best grades in Lee Hargrove history. Maybe … maybe I could slide by with all B’s this semester.

  I sat down in front of my laptop and brought up the class website. Then I typed in my password — A-R-F-Y.

  Were our grades posted? Yes.

  I leaned forward and stared at my report card on the screen.

  “I … don’t … believe … it,” I muttered.

  All A’s.

  I tugged the claw out from under my shirt. I squeezed it gently.

  “Thank you!” I whispered. “Thank you!”

  I tucked the claw back. “I’m never taking you off,” I told it. “I’m never giving up all this good luck. Good luck is fun!”

  Did my good luck last forever?

  Three guesses.

  In school the next morning, my luck continued. Miss Harrison called me over before class.

  She glanced through some papers. Then she smiled at me. “Lee, you’re way ahead of the class on this science unit,” she said. “You don’t need to take the test today.”

  “I — I don’t?” I stammered. Was I hearing her correctly? Skip a test?

  “Why don’t you go to the library and do some research online?” Miss Harrison said.

  “Yeah. Sure. No problem,” I said. “Thanks.” I practically skipped out of the classroom.

  The claw bumped my chest as I strode down the hall. It felt good.

  My lucky vulture claw. It was bringing me good luck every minute.

  I felt awesome. My whole life had changed. I was a brand-new Lee. And I liked it.

  At lunchtime, Laura Grodin actually smiled at me. That didn’t happen very often.

  “Hey, wait up, Lee,” she called. She trotted across the crowded hall.

  The claw had come out from under my T-shirt. It dangled in front of me.

  Laura squinted at it. “Yuck. What’s that? An animal claw? Is it real?”

  “I think it’s a fake,” I lied. “I … just thought it was cool. Found it at a garage sale.”

  I didn’t like lying to Laura. But I didn’t want to tell her the truth. No way I wanted to tell her it was a real vulture claw that instantly brought all kinds of good luck.

  What if she went and bought one? That wouldn’t be good.

  Laura rubbed her finger on the crusty black feathers. “Ugh. Gross.” She made a disgusted face. Then she saw some friends across the hall and ran off to talk to them.

  I hid the claw under my shirt and headed to the lunchroom. I had a smile on my face. That was the first time Laura ever paid any attention to me. Thanks to the claw.

  I turned the corner. I was nearly to the lunchroom when I spotted a small blue object on the floor. It was half-hidden under a locker.

  I bent down and picked it up. A wallet. A fat wallet stuffed with money and cards.

  “Lee?” I heard a woman’s voice behind me. “Did you find it?”

  I spun around to see Ms. Lincoln, our principal, hurrying across the hall toward me. She had her eyes on the wallet in my hand.

  “Did you find my wallet?” she repeated.

  I handed it to her.

  “Oh, thank goodness!�
� she cried. “I’ve been searching for hours. Thank you, Lee. Thank you!”

  “It … was under the locker,” I said. I pointed. “A lucky find.”

  “It sure was!” she exclaimed. She reached into the wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “A little reward for you,” she said. She stuffed the money into my hand.

  “No. I can’t —” I started to give it back to her.

  But she closed my fist around it. “Keep it,” she said. “You deserve a reward. You saved my life.”

  She turned and hurried back toward her office. I gazed at the ten-dollar bill in my hand. How lucky was that?

  I tucked it into my jeans and stepped into the crowded, noisy lunchroom. I wasn’t interested in lunch. I was too excited to be hungry.

  I knew what I had to do. I marched up to Cory. He was sitting at the front table with a bunch of kids from our class.

  “Yo, Lee. What’s up?” he said. He had a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. That’s what he eats for lunch every day. He says it’s his lucky sandwich.

  But I knew who had the luck today. He could eat ten jars of peanut butter and jelly. Things had changed.

  “I want a rematch,” I said. “I want to have a do-over of our tennis match.”

  He grinned at me. He was so sure of himself, he didn’t hesitate for a second.

  “No problem,” he said. “A rematch. Let’s do it.”

  I rubbed the claw under my shirt. No way I could lose this time.

  No way.

  Cory and I insisted on a new match. Ms. Andersen didn’t really understand. But she said if we wanted it so badly, we could do it.

  Word got around school, and a lot of kids showed up to watch.

  Some kids called it a “grudge match.” I think that’s why a lot of them came.

  Also, word had gone around school that I’d tossed my racket and knocked Ms. Andersen to the ground. I think some kids were waiting for me to lose it again.

  But I didn’t lose it. This time, I won.

  This time, the sun hid behind clouds when I was facing it. And when we switched court sides, it shone brightly again and blinded Cory.

  So I won two sets to none.

  Good luck. Either you have it or you don’t.

  I was so happy, I let out a shout of victory and leaped over the net. Cory just stood there shaking his head. I could tell by the upset look on his face that I had him worried.

  I knew I could win the Sports Camp scholarship easily. With the help of the vulture claw, of course.

  I laughed and tried to joke with Cory. But he didn’t want to talk. He turned and stomped away, angrily slapping his fancy new tennis racket against his hand.

  I saw Laura flash me a warm smile from the side of the court. She gave me a double thumbs-up.

  Too bad, Laura, I thought. You and Cory don’t stand a chance now.

  I pulled out the ugly black claw and kissed it. Then I tucked it back under my shirt.

  I hummed to myself all the way home. I felt like dancing. Or skipping.

  I let myself in and tossed my tennis racket case and backpack to the floor. I heard heavy footsteps in the hall. Arfy barked and came running to greet me.

  “Hey — down boy. Down!”

  Why did I say that? He never listens to me. Arfy’s so big that he doesn’t obey a single command. He knows he can do whatever he feels like.

  “Arfy — please!”

  He leaped on me, pressing his big paws on my shoulders. I stumbled back against the wall.

  “Stop!” I cried. He was frantically licking my face. My cheeks dripped with thick slobber. “Stop it!”

  I tried to push him off. He pawed at my T-shirt collar.

  “Hey!” I let out a cry as he grabbed the vulture claw in his teeth. With a hard tug, he snatched it off the rope.

  “NO!” I screamed.

  Arfy clamped the claw in his teeth. Then he pushed off from my chest with both paws. He spun around and galloped out of the room.

  “No! Arfy — come back!” I wailed. “It isn’t a dog toy! Oh, nooooo. Come back with that!”

  I chased him down the back hall. He ran into my parents’ room and tried to jump on their bed.

  But I tackled him around his middle and wrestled him to the floor. I made a grab for the vulture claw, and it slid easily out from between his teeth.

  He snapped at it. But I swung it out of his reach and rolled away from him. “Not a toy!” I shouted. “Not a toy.”

  Arfy made a whimpering sound. He stared up at the claw.

  I studied it carefully. It was dripping with saliva. One of the talons was torn — just a little bit. Not too bad.

  “Bad dog,” I scolded Arfy. But he was already trotting out of the room, his tail wagging. Dogs have very short attention spans.

  I tried to dry off the claw on the front of my shirt. Then I slid it back in place.

  “Close call,” I muttered.

  Arfy almost ruined my good luck. Of course, he didn’t know what he was doing. He was just being a dog.

  But I needed this good-luck charm. Needed it. Like breathing.

  I let out a sigh of relief. The claw felt good against my chest. I vowed I’d keep it snug and safe from now on.

  I started up the stairs to my room. I was nearly at the top when my shoe caught on something. A lump in the carpet?

  “Owwwww!” I let out a scream as I lost my balance. I fell hard onto my side — hit my head — and bounced all the way down.

  Bump bump bump bump.

  I landed at the bottom. The surprise took my breath away. My heart was racing. Pain rolled up and down my body.

  I didn’t move till I could breathe normally. Then I sat up with a groan. The back of my neck ached. My left ankle throbbed. I tested it. It wasn’t broken, but it sure hurt.

  “Oh, wow,” I muttered. “Wow.” I shook my head, trying to shake away the dizziness and pain. Groaning, I climbed to my feet.

  “That’s not supposed to happen,” I said to myself. “I’m supposed to have all good luck.”

  Then I thought, Well, I didn’t break my neck. I could have broken my ankle or my arm. I guess the claw kept me from seriously hurting myself.

  I pulled it out from under my shirt. I turned it over in my hand. The fall didn’t crush it or anything.

  I kissed it and tucked it back in. Then I started back up the stairs.

  This time, I gripped the banister as I climbed. My ankle still throbbed, but I could stand on it.

  I stepped into my room. One of my baseball posters had fallen off the wall. It was lying upside down on the floor.

  I rolled it up and leaned it against the wall. I’ll tape it back up later, I decided.

  I sat down at my desk and opened the laptop. I powered it on and waited for the screen to light up.

  Miss Harrison puts her homework assignments online every afternoon. I went to our school site to see what work I had to do.

  The page started to come up. But then the screen suddenly went black.

  I heard a sizzling sound. Like bacon frying on the stove.

  “What’s up with that?” I muttered.

  And then I jumped to my feet as black smoke poured up from my laptop.

  I knocked the desk chair over as I staggered back two or three steps.

  And then I gasped as bright orange and yellow flames flickered over the keyboard.

  My laptop! It was on fire!

  I stared in horror as the flames danced over the keyboard. My panic lasted only a few seconds.

  I dove forward and slammed the lid shut. Would that put out the flames?

  Black smoke sizzled up from the back. Then the smoke faded away.

  Silence.

  I didn’t move. I froze there, holding my breath, waiting to see if the flames would shoot up again.

  Finally, I touched the lid. It wasn’t hot. I flipped it open.

  The flames were gone. The keyboard was charred black. A lot of the keys had melted onto one another.

&nbs
p; Ruined. It was totally destroyed.

  How did that happen? I just powered it on, and it burst into flames.

  I knew my parents would take it back to the store and buy me a new one. But all my work was lost. My history notes were on it. And my book report that was due next Friday. And science stuff…

  My birthday party photos. The photos I snapped on the class trip…

  All lost.

  I stared down at the black, melted keys. What bad luck.

  I felt the vulture claw press against my chest. I pulled it out and studied it. It seemed okay except for the little tear on one talon.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked it. “Where is the good luck? You’ve got to come through for me now.”

  That night, I couldn’t sleep.

  I felt jumpy. I couldn’t lie still. I forced my eyes shut and tried counting down from one thousand.

  But I couldn’t concentrate. I turned onto my side. Then I tried the other side.

  I felt like a restless animal in a zoo. The kind that prowls its cage, back and forth, poking its snout through the spaces between the cage bars.

  I sat up and rested my head against the head-board. The bedroom window was open, and white moonlight poured in. Silvery white moonlight almost as bright as day.

  I shut my eyes, but I couldn’t force out the light.

  I knew I was sleepy. My eyelids were heavy. I had to sleep. But my brain was spinning. And the bright white light … the light was calling me … forcing me to my feet.

  I stood up. I paced my room, my bare feet cold against the carpet. I have a long, narrow room. Not much room to pace.

  Like a caged animal, I thought again.

  I spotted my guitar propped against the closet door. I lifted it up and carried it to the bed. I propped it in my lap.

  Playing the guitar always relaxes me.

  I balanced it on my lap. Then I started to strum.

  Something was wrong. It didn’t sound right. It didn’t … feel right.

  I squinted into the moonlight. I raised my hand.

  And opened my mouth in a scream of horror.

  My hand! Where was it? What happened to my hand?

  I gaped in disbelief at the ragged talons and thick feathers. My hand had turned into a CLAW!