The timer on my phone says that only one minute remains, so I wait out the last sixty seconds by leaning my head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling.
What the hell was I thinking when I let Monika talk me into working today?
I know better, because the awful truth is that wherever I go, bad luck follows. While my curse hangs around all year long like a shadow in the moonlight, today, a Friday the thirteenth, is guaranteed trouble.
The fact that it’s also Friday,Marchthirteenth? My own personal Armageddon, which is why I requested it off months ago, along with the Friday the thirteenth from February, and the one that will happen in November.
Monika knows about my curse; Lord knows she has witnessed more than her fair share of it firsthand, so for her to call me this morning and beg me to cover the shift meant she was really in a bind. If I weren’t forever indebted to her for taking a chance onme in the first place, I wouldn’t have even answered her phone call.
My bad luck is cruel. It often hurts others to hurt me, but I am also tormented by it.Hoping for the best but expecting the worsthas become the tagline of my life as a result, because no matter how hard I try to get ahead of it, misfortune always manages to find me.
Case in point, I was audited last February when I decided to submit my taxes early, despite making barely above minimum wage.
I was summoned for jury duty the week after I graduated high school and was chosen as juror number one for what turned out to be a three-month-long trial. I missed out on my entire summer with my friends before we went our separate ways to college.
When I was little, I couldn’t care less about candy or treats. All I wanted were those cute clementine oranges. I would eat them morning, noon, and night. I even had a clementine-themed tenth birthday party, only to find out after becoming violently ill, and having to leave my own birthday party to go to the emergency room, that I had spontaneously developed a citrus allergy.
Straighten my wavy hair? It’ll rain that day.
Going on vacation? Well. Let’s just say I stopped going on vacation a long time ago.
Forget the superstition of the black cat; people should fear me crossing their path.
So the fact that I was called into work on the day that I requested off months ago because none of the eleven other employees were available to work the shift? Not unexpected. It’s just my luck. My mistake was agreeing to come, and the poor little girl and her family almost had to pay the price.
The timer finally goes off, and I push off the floor to gather the rest of my belongings and loop my cross-body bag over my head. Although if someone decided to steal my purse on my way out the door, I’d probably just give it to them at this point. With how today is going, if I tried to stop them from taking it, I’d end up in jail for causing them unintentional bodily harm.
The front of the store is almost completely dark when I reemerge, with the storm clouds holding their worst for my exit. Monika must have finished my closing tasks, too, because all the lamps and flameless candles are turned off.
I tiptoe along the wall opposite the register in the shadows and peek over to see my boss’s face illuminated by the vintage green bank light she uses to count the money by. If I stay quiet enough, she might not notice my exit, and I can avoid the lecture I am sure she already has ready to go about the little girl.
I make it farther than I expect, but when I duck behind the romantasy section, I trip on a rogue bat-boy-scented candle, and it collides with the wooden shelves with a loud thud.
I hold my breath, praying that the events of the day will be enough to quench my curse’s thirst, but when I take the last few steps to the door, Monika calls out from the back of the store.
“Drew. Come back here, please.”
Chapter two
A GIRL WHO WAS CURSED AT BIRTH
Itapmyfooton the hardwood floor as I wait for Monika to finish counting a stack of ones.
I already know what she called me over to say, so the way she is taking her time, turning the bills so they all face the same direction, particularly grates on my already-frayed nerves. I’ve about exhausted all my patience when she finally pushes her curtain of black hair over her shoulder and makes a tally on the closing sheet.
“We got an email this morning from an author requesting that we confirm her shipment of books, but I couldn’t find the boxes in the back,” she says, then looks up to meet my waiting eyes. “Have you seen them?”
I blink, bewildered. Normally, when something goes awry in the store on my watch, Monika gives me awhat you focus on is what you attractlecture. Is it possible that I am somehow getting out of that today of all days? “Which author?”
She shuffles through a stack of papers next to the till to find the printed-out email and then hands it over to me. I scan the page and then hand it right back.
“These are in the upcoming release section. I put them there myself, yesterday.”
She frowns. “I looked but couldn’t find them.”
Unless the boxes spontaneously grew legs and walked away, I would be willing to bet my life that they are exactly where I am telling her that they are. Monika is meticulous, though. Almost as meticulous as I am, so her claiming that they aren’t there is enough to give me pause.
I glance at the door longingly as I consider how much time it will take for me to show her where they are, but I decide that the risk is just not worth the reward. There is no telling what other dangers my curse may have queued up, just waiting for me to walk past a sharp corner or under a heavy object to crash on top of my head, even though I follow all the safety regulations to a T. No, it’s definitely safer for everyone if we put this day to rest and look tomorrow instead.
