Confidentially Yours #5 Read online

  “The Strength card reveals you have accomplished much.”

  I sat a little straighter in my chair and puffed out my chest. “Yep!”

  “The Three of Pentacles means you are currently in a position where you must collaborate and work well with others.”

  “I’m the team leader for my advice column and captain of my soccer team,” I said.

  She nodded. “Your cards represent you well.”

  Madame Delphi flipped the last card and gasped.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your future,” she said, “is represented by the Nine of Swords!” In a softer voice she added, “The lord of cruelty.”

  That didn’t sound promising.

  “What . . . what does that mean?” I managed to squeak out.

  “Great sorrow and grief,” said Madame Delphi. She patted my hand. “Perhaps the tea will reveal something more.” She pushed the cup closer to me. “Drink everything but the leaves.”

  I chugged the tea, even though it was still hot and kind of gross, hoping for a better fortune at the bottom of the cup.

  Madame Delphi gave me more instructions on how to swirl the leaves around and focus my thoughts on a particular question.

  “What’s the source of my sorrow and grief?” I asked.

  “Now let the leaves settle,” she instructed me. “And tell me what you see.”

  I did as she said, holding the cup at arm’s length so I could inspect it from every angle.

  “It looks like a big O,” I said.

  Madame Delphi rubbed her chin. “Do you have any enemies whose names start or end with O?”

  I shook my head. My soccer archrival was Lacey Black, and my only enemy from school was a kid named Ryan Durstwich.

  “Do you have any issues with foods that start with O?”

  I shook my head again. “Although one time I ate an Oreo that my friend Tim had sitting at the bottom of his backpack.”

  Madame Delphi wrinkled her nose but continued. “Do you see anything else in the cup?”

  I lifted it again. “Just my reflection.”

  “Hmm.” Madame Delphi pressed her fingertips together and studied me. “Perhaps that is not an O in your cup but a mirror.”

  “A mirror?” My forehead wrinkled for a second, and then my mouth dropped open. “You think I’m the source of my sorrow?”

  “We are our own worst enemies,” said Madame Delphi with a solemn nod. She held out a hand to me. “Please give me the palm of your nondominant hand.”

  I held out my left, and she pressed her fingers into the lines, muttering to herself.

  “What? What do you see?” I asked in a mildly panicked voice.

  “Your hands are incredibly dirty.” She withdrew her fingers and wiped them on her skirt. “But the good news is you have a very long life line. Whatever tragedy befalls you will not kill you.”

  I swallowed hard and brought my hands to my chest. “And the bad news?”

  Madame Delphi sighed and fixed her eyes on mine. “You’re in for a great deal of bad luck.”

  CHAPTER

  2

  Trading Places

  “That’ll be ten dollars.”

  I was back in the front room with my friends, and Madame Delphi was behind the register, collecting her fortune for telling ours.

  With a sour smile I handed over the money while my friends chatted.

  “Would you like a receipt?” asked Madame Delphi.

  “I’d like a better fortune,” I replied, but she just smiled and shrugged.

  “As I said before, I cannot change your future. I can only tell you what it will be.”

  She bade us farewell and approached a woman sitting on the waiting-area couch.

  “You must be Alice,” I heard her say.

  “Hey, Brooke?” Katie tapped my shoulder. “Ready to go?”

  I nodded and followed her and the rest of my friends toward the exit.

  “You never told us what your fortune was,” Vanessa commented, opening the front door. “Are you going to be rich? Famous?”

  I sighed. “Doomed, according to Madame Delphi.”

  My friends stopped in the doorway and stared at me. Icy wind brought snowflakes inside to melt at our feet.

  “Girls, in or out, please,” Madame Delphi called.

  I nudged my friends out the door and closed it behind us.

  “She didn’t actually say ‘doomed,’ did she?” asked V. She started down the steps, leaving room for me to walk beside her, but I took my time. If bad luck was coming, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Not that exact word,” I said. “But when we did tarot cards, I drew the Nine of Swords.”

  Katie gasped and threw her arms around me. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry!”

  V and Heather exchanged curious looks.

  “What does that mean?” asked Heather.

  “Yeah, the more swords the better, right?” added V.

  Katie shook her head. “The Nine of Swords is bad. Very bad.” She opened the passenger side door of Bobbi’s car. “Brooke drew the Nine of Swords.”

  Bobbi’s face paled a little, and she patted the front passenger seat. “Brooke, you’ll sit up here. It’s got the best air bags.”

  The blood must have left my face, because Vanessa made a scoffing sound and squeezed my shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen,” she said. “If anyone was going to pull that card, it should’ve been me.”

  “Yeah,” said Heather. “There’s no such thing as bad luck.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “At your Halloween party you wouldn’t let a girl dressed as a black cat cross your path.”

  “That was different.” She blushed. “I was carrying nachos and didn’t want to bump into her. You know how important junk food is to me.”

  Junk food, health food . . . it all mattered to Heather. She had a bottomless stomach. Or a tapeworm.

  “Vanessa’s right. It’s probably nothing,” said Katie.

  “Honey . . . ,” her mom intoned.

  Katie leaned into the car and whispered loudly, “Look, I know she’s in trouble, and you know she’s in trouble, but I can at least try to make her feel better!” She turned sideways and smiled at me. “Everything’s going to be a-okay!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  She stepped back so I could get in the front seat, and Bobbi gave me a pitying smile.

  I cleared my throat. “So Katie says she’s going to make a lot of money this year!”

  Bobbi beamed at her daughter in the rearview mirror. “Tell me everything.”

  After Katie told her mom her fortune, Vanessa and Heather gave theirs. Nobody asked for details about mine, and I was happy to stay quiet.

  When the SUV stopped in front of my house, I thanked Bobbi for the ride and said good-bye to my friends. V rolled down her window to call out, “Everything’s going to be fine!”

  I nodded and trudged up the front walk and into the house. Hammie loped to the door to greet me with Chelsea scurrying behind on kitten paws.

  “Hi, cuties.” I bent and cuddled them while I took off my boots. They helped by chewing on the laces. In a louder voice, I shouted, “I’m home!”

  Nobody answered, and I felt a teeny bit of worry creep up as I wandered the first floor with the cats at my heels. On a typical Sunday my folks would be in the living room watching TV until it was time for us to have dinner. But there wasn’t so much as a dent in the couch cushions.

  Suddenly, Mom shrieked from upstairs.

  Chelsea and Hammie scattered, and I sprinted up the steps . . . alone . . . toward danger . . . failing Horror Movie 101.

  “Mom!” I called.

  I found both my parents in the office, sopping up coffee from a stack of papers. Dad was wearing his workout clothes, and in the corner the treadmill was whirring to a stop.

  “Are you guys okay?” I asked. “Did Mom drop her coffee when she saw you working out?”

  Both my parents laughed.r />
  “We’re fine,” she said, shaking coffee off a page. “I just thought these W-2s could use a drink.”

  Mom’s an accountant, which means after the new year she’s really busy doing people’s taxes. Dad works for an ad agency, and until recently he’d been a workaholic, spending a lot of time away from home. Then he saw I was kind of following in his footsteps and relaxed his routine.

  “And I’m trying to keep a New Year’s resolution, smarty-pants,” said Dad. With a smirk, he added, “I’m surprised your fortune-teller didn’t see that coming.”

  “Ugh.” I flopped onto a chair. “She was too busy predicting my doom.”

  Mom snorted and regarded me with an amused smile. “Don’t tell me you believe what she said.” Mom wadded up a soiled towel and organized her papers.

  “The cards and the tea leaves and my palm all agreed,” I informed her.

  Dad grabbed his gym towel and water bottle off the treadmill. “Well, we knew this day was coming. The seer at the fair warned us.”

  I sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Why do I tell you guys anything? This is serious!”

  Dad nodded and stepped closer. “You’re right. We need to bless you with holy water.” He uncapped his squeeze bottle. “Ready?”

  Mom squealed and crawled out of the way, and I just grinned at Dad. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I?” He grinned wickedly and squeezed the bottle. A stream of water shot out, and I slid off the chair and onto the floor, but Dad redirected his aim and got me in the neck.

  “Ahhh! It’s so cold!” I shrieked, rolling away to escape it.

  “I’m only doing this for your own good,” he said. More water came rushing at me.

  “Mom! Save me!” I called between giggles, reaching out for her.

  “Aww, I’d like to, sweetie,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “But if these documents get any wetter, they’ll be papier-mâché.”

  Dad paused in his water-bottle assault. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Yes!” I laughed and pulled my hair back.

  “Are you going to stop believing in bad luck?”

  “Yes!”

  Dad threw me his gym towel.

  “Ew! It’s damp!” I tossed it back and got to my feet. “I’m gonna dry off with a good towel. You two are so weird.” I headed to the bathroom with Mom calling, “At least we’re never boring!”

  My parents told me a lot of things I didn’t agree with (too much pizza would kill me, pizza wasn’t a food group, the government was going to outlaw pizza), but as much as I hated to admit it, I had a feeling they were right about the luck thing. I didn’t even pause when I tripped over the carpet.

  Everyone pulled a Vanessa once in a while.

  A typical wake-up for me used to be Hammie purring and rubbing against my arm. But the first morning back to school I woke up to Hammie’s purrs and Chelsea’s paw tapping on my nose.

  “Silly thing!” I said with a giggle, nudging her aside. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize she was at the edge of the bed, and Chelsea slipped over. “Chelsea!”

  She fell with a mew, and I grabbed for her in midair as she grabbed for me.

  The only difference was that she had claws.

  There’s nothing quite as painful as tiny needles ripping into flesh, and I couldn’t help letting out a scream. In under a minute, both my parents were thundering up the stairs.

  “Brooke? Are you okay?” called Mom.

  They walked in to find Chelsea licking her paws while I cradled my bleeding paw.

  “What happened?” asked Dad, inspecting it. “Did Chelsea do this?”

  I nodded. “It was an accident. She was falling off the bed and I caught her.”

  Mom lifted Chelsea by the scruff of her neck and deposited her on the carpet. “Down you go, killer.” She helped me out of bed as Dad continued to study the wounds.

  “Is it really bad?” I asked. “Do I need stitches?”

  He shook his head. “You might have some scarring, and we’ll have to watch for cat scratch fever, but you should be fine.”

  “Cat scratch fever?” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you messing with me?”

  “Not this time,” said Dad, crossing his heart. “We need to wash your scratches so they don’t get infected. And don’t let either of the cats lick your cuts.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Getting my hand cleaned and dressed with bandages put me behind schedule so that by the time I got to school, homeroom had already started. When I walked in, I gave Ms. Maxwell my note with my injured hand so she’d know it was serious.

  “Oh my. Are you okay?” she asked, turning my hand over.

  I nodded. “As long as the cat scratch fever doesn’t set in.”

  Her forehead wrinkled in concern. “Well, let me know if you need to leave early to see the nurse.”

  I took my seat, and instantly Vanessa turned to look at me. “What’s with your hand? Did you step on it with a soccer cleat?”

  “No,” I said with a laugh. “How could someone step on their own hand?”

  “It’s been known to happen,” she said with a serious expression, covering one of her hands with the other. “But for real, what’s under the bandage?”

  I told her about the daring midair rescue of Chelsea, and she winced.

  “Ouch! Talk about bad luck,” said V. Then her eyes widened. “Wait. I mean—”

  “Of course!” I exclaimed.

  “Ladies, keep it down, please,” Ms. Maxwell warned.

  I lowered my voice and leaned close to V. “It’s just like the fortune-teller predicted!”

  “It’s nothing like the fortune-teller predicted,” she whispered back. “She said you were in for some big tragedy, remember?” She smacked herself on the forehead. “Shoot! I mean—”

  “You’re right,” I said in a soft voice. “Things are going to get worse. What’s next? Am I going to be mauled by a mountain lion?”

  My pen rolled off the desk, and I went to grab it at the same time as V. We knocked skulls, and I grimaced. “See? Bad luck!”

  “This isn’t bad luck,” she said, rubbing her head. “This is a typical Monday for me!”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not for me,” I said. “And I don’t plan to make it a habit.”

  Apparently, the universe had something else in mind.

  Later, as we were leaving homeroom, someone shouted, “Heads up!”

  Normally, I’m fast enough to catch whatever’s flying past, but that morning I turned and got nailed in the face with a highlighter.

  “Owww!” I yelled, clutching my nose.

  V pulled me to the side of the hall. “Is there blood? Can you breathe?”

  I pulled my hand away, which thankfully was clean, and sniffed hard. “It’s okay.” My eyes lit up. “And I can smell pepperoni pizza!”

  “See?” said V with a laugh. “Things are looking up already.”

  We walked into the main hall where my boyfriend, Abel, was waiting with his hands behind his back. Since he’s a seventh grader, I normally only see him before school or between our lunches or classes.

  “Okay, things are a little better,” I agreed with V. She squeezed my arm, waved to Abel, and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Hi!” He greeted me with a hug. “I didn’t see you this morning, so I figured I’d check on the unluckiest girl in Berryville. How are you?”

  I’d texted Abel after the trip to Madame Delphi’s and told him everything.

  I smirked and held up my hand. “Two injuries and counting.”

  “Two?” he asked, looking me over.

  “I got hit in the face with a highlighter,” I explained.

  “Well, on the bright side . . .” He paused and grinned. “Get it? Because it’s a highlighter?”

  I grinned too. “You’re lucky I like you.”

  “I really am.” He took my hand, and we walked down the hall. “And I got you something.”

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nbsp; Abel held out what he’d been holding behind his back. “It’s a four-leaf clover. I thought it might help.”

  Someone jostled past him, knocking the clover out of his palm. Before he could retrieve it, several other kids stepped on the clover until it was a green smudge in the carpet.

  He and I both stared at the smudge.

  “That seems about right,” I said.

  Abel sighed. “Bye, two bucks.”

  I squeezed him. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “You know you’re not really unlucky, right?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath and said, “Ask me again at the end of the day.”

  We parted ways at my math class, where I proceeded to get my pen jammed in the pencil sharpener.

  “Why on earth were you trying to sharpen your pen?” asked my math teacher as the school maintenance guy fiddled with the machine.

  “I was thinking about something else,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry” became my motto, as I dropped my math book on someone’s foot in the hallway after class, then tripped over two of my teammates in dodgeball and got us all tagged out.

  “I promise I’m normally much better,” I said when they grumbled. “I could take on the entire class on a good day!”

  When I sat down at lunch with Heather, Tim, and Vanessa, the first words out of my mouth were “I’m sorry.”

  Heather wrinkled her forehead. “For what? You just got here.”

  “Yes, but in the next thirty minutes, I will either spill or spit something onto each of you.” I pointed at all of my friends.

  “I don’t like this lunch game,” said Tim.

  “It’s not a game. She thinks she has bad luck,” explained Vanessa.

  “I don’t think it. I know it,” I informed her, filling them all in on my morning.

  “Sounds like you and Vanessa switched bodies,” said Tim with a smirk.

  Vanessa stared at him. “Normally I’d hit you for that, but today has been a pretty good day for me. I only got my scarf caught in my locker once!” She beamed as if all her birthday wishes had come true.

  “I can’t live like this!” I moaned. “I’ve only had one day of bad luck and I’m going crazy.”

  Vanessa snorted and adjusted her scarf. “You don’t have bad luck! That fortune-teller has no idea what she’s talking about. She said I’d have a hundred eyes on me this morning, and was anybody watching me? No.”