Locker 13 Read online

  I let out a long sigh of relief. Then I tossed the backpack on top of the balled-up sweatshirt. Shoved my jacket onto the hook on the back wall.

  I started to slam the door shut when I spotted something at my feet.

  My shoe kicked it and it rolled against the locker bottom, then bounced back.

  A ball?

  I bent down and picked it up. I raised it close to my face.

  “Whoa.” Not a ball. A tiny yellow skull, a little larger than a Ping-Pong ball.

  It had an open-mouthed grin, revealing two rows of gray teeth. I ran my finger over the teeth. They were hard and bumpy.

  I squeezed it. The little skull was made of some kind of hard rubber.

  The eyes—sunken deep in the sockets—were red glass. They glowed in the hall lights, like tiny rubies.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked it.

  I turned back to the locker. Did the skull fall out of the locker? How did it get in there? Was someone playing some kind of Friday the thirteenth head game with me?

  I decided that had to be the answer.

  I rolled the skull around in my hand a few times. I poked my finger against the glowing, red glass eyes.

  Then I tucked it into my pants pocket. I slammed the locker shut—and headed to practice.

  “Look alive! Heads up. Look alive!” Coach Bendix was shouting.

  I ran out of the locker room and grabbed a basketball off the ball rack. I began dribbling around the floor.

  We were having one of Coach’s free-for-all practices. That meant we had to keep moving, keep playing—run, dribble, pass, shoot, play defense. Do everything all at once in a big free-for-all.

  I dribbled slowly across the floor, concentrating hard. Trying not to lose the dribble. I saw Stretch turn toward me. He stuck out both hands and moved forward, ready to block me.

  I decided to try and fake him out. I dribbled left—and moved right. I edged past him easily. Moved under the basket. And sent up a shot that sailed across the gym and dropped in.

  “Hey—one for one!” I cried happily.

  “Lucky shot!” Stretch called.

  I took the ball and moved back to the top of the key. I sent up a two-handed jumpshot. It soared over the rim—and dropped through the basket with a soft swish.

  “Yes!” I pumped my fists in the air.

  I didn’t have long to celebrate. I turned and saw Stretch barreling toward me, dribbling hard, leaning forward with grim determination.

  He’s going to charge right over me, I realized. He’s going to flatten me.

  Guys backed out of his way as Stretch flew across the floor.

  “Look out, Luke!” someone shouted.

  I froze for a moment. Then I ducked to the left. Stuck out my hand and slapped the ball away from Stretch.

  He made a wild grab for it. But I dribbled it out of his reach. Then I spun around and sent a wild, high shot into the air. The ball hit the glass backboard—and sank through the net.

  “Wow!”

  “Way to go, Luke!”

  “Three for three!”

  The other players were in shock.

  Stretch shook his head. “Feeling lucky, today? Think fast!” He pulled back his long arm—and heaved the ball at my chest with all his strength.

  I caught it easily. Dribbled it three times. Shot—and dropped another basket.

  Stretch scowled. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  I don’t, either! I thought to myself. I’ve never shot four baskets in a row in my life!

  I turned and saw Coach Bendix watching me. Was this my big chance? Stretch and another player were passing the ball back and forth, moving across the floor.

  I shot forward. Intercepted Stretch’s pass. Drove to the basket. And sent up an easy layup. “Two points!” I cried.

  With an angry grunt Stretch reached for the rebound. But I pushed it out of his hands. Grabbed it. Spun. Shot again. “Two points!”

  Stretch cried out angrily. He bumped me hard from behind. I think he would have flattened me on the spot. But he saw that Coach Bendix was running over to us.

  Coach slapped me on the back. “Way to go, Luke!” he boomed. “Way to show real improvement! I’m impressed. Keep it up, okay? I’m going to give you some playing time next Friday.”

  “Hey—thanks,” I replied breathlessly.

  I saw Stretch scowl. Saw his face turn an angry red.

  I grabbed a ball and dribbled away. I wanted to shout and jump for joy. Had my luck finally changed?

  It seemed that way. Suddenly I could pass and jump and shoot and play defense like I never could before! It was as if I was possessed or something! Possessed by an all-star athlete.

  In the locker room after practice, Stretch ignored me. But other guys slapped me on the back and flashed me a thumbs-up.

  “Lookin’ good, Luke!”

  “Way to go, man!”

  “Go, Squires!”

  I was feeling really happy. Like a new person. As I changed into my street clothes, I felt the little skull in my pants pocket. I pulled it out and gazed at it, smoothing my thumb over the hard rubber.

  “Are you my new good-luck charm?” I asked it.

  The tiny, red eyes glowed back at me. I kissed it, gave it a smack on top of its yellow head, and shoved it back into my pants pocket.

  That skull is going everywhere with me, I decided. It’s got to be lucky.

  It’s got to be!

  As I walked home, I kept reliving my great basketball triumph. I pictured my long, perfect jumpshots again. And I saw myself stealing the ball from Stretch’s hands, driving right past him, and scoring. Embarrassing him. Embarrassing Stretch again and again!

  Wow! What a day!

  It was a cold, gray afternoon. Dark clouds hung low over the nearly bare trees. It felt more like winter than fall.

  A few blocks from home, I crossed a street—and heard a short cry.

  A long, low evergreen hedge ran across the front yard on the corner. I stopped, gazing over the hedge. Had the cry come from the yard?

  I listened hard. Down the block a car door slammed. A dog started to bark. The wind made a whistling sound through the phone lines overhead.

  And then I heard it—another sharp cry—longer this time.

  A baby? It sounded like a baby’s cry.

  “Owwwww. Owwwwww.”

  I lowered my gaze to the hedge—and saw the creature making the shrill cries.

  A cat. No. A small orange-and-white kitten.

  It appeared to be stuck in the prickly brambles of the hedge.

  “Owwwww. Owwwwww.”

  Carefully I bent down and gently lifted the cat out with both hands. As I cupped my hands around it, it stopped crying immediately. But it was still breathing hard, its white chest moving rapidly up and down. I rubbed its head, trying to soothe it.

  “You’re okay, little kitten,” I whispered.

  And then I heard another cry. A loud shriek.

  I looked up to see a large woman running at me angrily. Her face was bright red, and she waved her arms furiously.

  “Oh, no,” I muttered. I nearly dropped the cat.

  Why is she so angry?

  What have I done?

  “The kitten—!” she cried, shoving through a break in the hedge.

  “I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know. I—”

  “Where did you find her?” the woman demanded, her face still bright red.

  “In … in the hedge.”

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” the woman said. She took the kitten from my hands and raised it to her cheek. “Sasha, where did you go?”

  I’m not in trouble, I finally realized. The woman is happy—not angry.

  “Sasha has been missing for two days,” the woman told me, pressing the kitten against her face. “I offered a reward and everything. I almost gave up hope.”

  I let out a long sigh of relief. “She was right there,” I said, pointing. “In t
he hedge. I think she was caught in it.”

  “Well, she’s fine now, thanks to you.” Still pressing the kitten to her cheek, the woman pushed through the hedge and started to the house. “What is your name?”

  “Luke.”

  “Well, follow me, Luke. I’ll get your reward for you.”

  “Huh? Reward? No. Really,” I started to back away.

  “You saved Sasha’s life,” the woman said. “You did a wonderful thing. And I insist you take the reward I offered.”

  I saw that I had no choice. I followed her to her kitchen door.

  A few minutes later she counted out five twenty-dollar bills and pressed them into my hand. “Thank you, Luke. You really did your good deed for today!”

  A hundred dollars!

  A hundred dollars reward!

  My luck really is starting to change, I decided.

  When I got home, a big surprise awaited me.

  Mom had made my favorite dinner—meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. And a coconut cake for dessert!

  “It’s not even my birthday!” I exclaimed.

  “I just felt like doing something nice for you today,” Mom said. She brushed back my hair with one hand. “I know Friday the thirteenth is always a hard day for you.”

  “Not today!” I told her, grinning. “Not today!”

  After my second slice of coconut cake, I went up to my room and started my homework. I spent about an hour writing out the answers to my science assignment.

  It shouldn’t have taken that long. But I kept taking out the twenty-dollar bills, counting them again, and dreaming about what I could buy with them.

  After science I worked on my computer animation. I’d been having trouble with the last section. I couldn’t get anything to move the way I wanted.

  But tonight my good luck continued. I had no trouble at all. The images all slid together perfectly. I almost finished the project.

  A little after nine I decided to give Hannah a call. She’d acted so weird at lunch that afternoon. I thought maybe she was sick or something.

  I called to see if she was feeling better. But I could tell by the way she answered the phone that she still wasn’t her old self.

  I tried to cheer her up. I told her about my triumph at basketball practice. And about the hundred-dollar reward for finding the lost kitten.

  “Very cool,” Hannah said. But her voice showed no enthusiasm at all.

  “And then Mom made all of my favorite things for dinner!” I exclaimed.

  “Lucky,” Hannah muttered.

  “What’s your problem?” I demanded. “What’s wrong with you today?”

  A long silence at her end.

  Finally she said, “I guess I’m just in a bad mood. I fell off my bike on the way home this afternoon.”

  I groaned. “Oh, no. Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” she replied. “I scraped all the skin off my right hand. And I twisted my ankle pretty bad.”

  “Wow,” I muttered. “Bad news.”

  “Especially since I have a basketball game tomorrow,” Hannah sighed.

  “Think you’ll be able to play?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she said glumly.

  “Maybe I’ll come watch your game,” I said.

  There was a long silence. And then Hannah said, “Luke, there’s something … something I have to tell you.”

  “Excuse me?” I said. She was whispering, so low I could barely hear her.

  “I really should tell you something. But …”

  I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “What? What is it?”

  “Well …”

  Another long silence.

  “I can’t,” she said finally. I heard a click, and the line went silent.

  The next morning my good luck came to an end.

  At least, I thought my good luck had ended.

  When I arrived at my science class, I searched my backpack for the homework questions. Not there. I took everything out—every paper, every book, every pencil.

  Not there. I had spent over an hour on that assignment last night. And I’d left it at home.

  Now I was in major trouble. Miss Creamer didn’t accept late homework. And homework counted for fifty percent of the grade in her class.

  My stomach tightened with dread as she entered the science lab to begin class.

  How could I be so stupid?

  “Good morning, everyone,” she began. “I have an announcement to make. It’s about last night’s homework.”

  The room grew silent.

  “I have to apologize to all of you,” Miss Creamer continued. “I gave the wrong assignment. Those weren’t the right questions. I’m really sorry. You don’t have to turn it in. Just tear it up and throw it away.”

  Cheers rang out. Some kids gleefully ripped their papers into shreds. A big celebration.

  Yes! More good luck for me, I thought happily.

  I was on a hot streak. Later, when Miss Creamer handed back last week’s test, I had the only A in the class.

  In the lunchroom I grabbed the last slice of pizza on the counter!

  All the kids behind me in line groaned. Darnell came up and offered to pay me five dollars for it. But no deal.

  After school I stopped by the computer lab to see Mrs. Coffey. She told me her plans had suddenly changed. She wouldn’t be leaving school for another two weeks.

  I cheered. That meant I had time to finish my computer animation project and show it to her before I left.

  “Luke, I was talking about you to my friend who owns Linkups. You know—the computer store on Highlands? I told him about how you can do anything with computers, fix them, upgrade them. He said you might be able to come into the store on Saturdays and help out in the service department.”

  I gasped. “Really?”

  She nodded. “He’s a really nice guy, and he’s always looking for people who can fix machines. He said he couldn’t give you a real job since you’re only twelve. But he could pay you five dollars an hour.”

  “Wow! I cried. “That’s awesome! Thanks, Mrs. Coffey.”

  I practically flew down the stairs to the gym. I wanted to flap my arms and take off! So many great things were happening to me! I couldn’t believe it!

  Hannah’s basketball game had already started when I stepped into the gym. I found a seat in the bleachers and glanced up at the scoreboard. The Squirettes were already losing ten to two.

  What’s going on? I wondered. How can Hannah’s team be losing so badly? The team they were playing—the Bee Stingers from Elwood Middle School—were the worst team in the city!

  I turned and glanced around the bleachers. There were only about twenty kids watching the game. And four or five parents, clustered together at the top of the bleachers.

  “Go, Sharon!” one of the mothers yelled.

  But the gym was pretty quiet. I guess because the Squirettes were playing so badly.

  I leaned forward and tried to concentrate on the game.

  Sharon McCombs, the tallest girl in the Shawnee Valley eighth grade, tossed the ball in. A pass. Then another pass, which was almost stolen by a Bee Stinger.

  Hannah grabbed the ball. She turned and started to dribble to the basket. After about three steps she tripped. The ball bounced away as she fell flat on her stomach.

  A Bee Stinger grabbed it just before it went out of bounds. She dribbled all the way down the floor—and scored easily before Hannah had even picked herself up off the floor. Twelve to two.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Get ’em, Hannah!” I shouted.

  She didn’t look up. She was fiddling with the white bandage on her hand.

  A minute later Hannah had the ball again. In close. She jumped and shot. And missed. Missed the net, the backboard. Missed everything.

  I leaned on my hands and watched the game in silence. Hannah missed six or seven shots in a row. She tripped over the ball, hit the floor hard, and got a huge, bright red floor burn on her knee. Her p
asses to her teammates went wild. She kept losing the ball to the other team. Tripping over her own feet. Bumping into other players.

  It was sad. She didn’t look like Hannah at all.

  The half-time score was Bee Stingers twenty-five, Squirettes five.

  When the team came out to start the second half, Hannah sat down on the bench and didn’t play.

  What’s going on? I wondered.

  I climbed down from the bleachers and walked over to her on the bench.

  “Luke, you came to a bad-news game,” she said, shaking her head.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You’re hurt? From your bike accident yesterday?”

  She watched the Bee Stingers score another basket. Then she turned to me. “No. It’s not because of my accident,” she whispered. Her eyes were dull, watery. Her skin was so pale.

  “So, what is it?” I asked.

  Hannah frowned. “It’s all because I lost my good-luck charm,” she said.

  I gaped at her. “Huh?”

  “It’s what brought me all that amazing great luck,” Hannah said. “I have to find it. As soon as I lost it, my luck changed.”

  My mouth dropped open. I realized my heart had started to pound.

  “It’s a tiny skull,” Hannah continued. “A little yellow skull. I—I never went anywhere without it.”

  She tugged at the bandage on her hand. Then she raised her eyes to me. “You haven’t seen it anywhere … have you, Luke?”

  My legs suddenly felt weak. I gripped the back of the bench and stared at Hannah. I could feel my face growing red.

  I could feel the skull in my jeans pocket. I knew I should pull it out and hand it to her.

  But how could I?

  I needed the good luck, too. Hannah had enjoyed so much good luck for so long. Mine had just started. For the first time in my life, I was having a little good luck.

  How could I go back to being a loser again?

  Hannah’s watery eyes locked on mine. “Have you seen it, Luke?” she repeated. “Have you seen it anywhere?”

  My face burned. So many frantic thoughts whirred through my head.

  I really needed that good-luck charm. Ever since I found it, my life had changed. I was a new person.

  But Hannah was my friend. My best friend in the whole world. She was always there for me when I needed her.