My Luck (Twisted Luck Book 1) Page 8

  Keeping the forced smiled on my face I rose up and moved to the back driver's-side door. I still didn't see anything, but I pulled open the door and peered in. The world around me vanished as I saw a crumpled figure laying in the space between the seats. The figure didn't move and the cold in my veins had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

  I crawled in. His head nestled near the passenger side, his body wedged in tight on its side, his nose against the seat. By crawling, I could get there. I scanned as I moved across the seat but didn't see any blood or broken bones. I still didn't let myself wish or hope, just scanned. I positioned myself so I was mimicking his form laying on the seat. "Bobby? Can you hear me?" My voice low, but his mother still heard me.

  "Is he okay? Why isn't he talking?"

  I ignored her, focusing on the boy even as the icy feeling in my soul spread. He was about twelve, the same age Stevie had been. With a boy's soft features and his haircut, it all brought back images I had tried to block for so very long. I fought to focus and pay attention to the boy. To my patient.

  Blood trickled from the ear facing the ceiling. His eyes fluttered open. I saw his throat move and I saw the vertebra that were out of alignment with his spine. His mouth moved again, trying to breath, but he couldn't move his lungs to get oxygen in. Choices slammed at me. If I pulled him out, I might be able to breathe for him, but his spine was severed, I could see it. If his heart quit beating, I wouldn't be able to do anything. And moving him might make it worse.

  What the hell do I do?

  Part of me already knew. It had been at least two minutes since the accident, probably close to four. His body was already ravaging itself for oxygen, and the blood from the ear indicated brain damage. He was going to die and there was nothing I could do.

  Well, there is one thing I can do.

  I got closer and laid my hand on his face, his eyes widened as he focused on me, his mouth still gasping for air. I smiled at him, letting him feel my hand on his face, and watched the life fade as I lay there, the sirens of first responders creating a death song that escorted his life away from me and my uselessness. The tears running down my cheeks were the only parting gift I could offer.

  Chapter 11

  One of the core things taught in magic classes, and a lesson that the OMO tries to push, is that mages are not gods. They can't stop death, turn back time, or make the blind see. They can do powerful and wonderful things, but they, like the rest of us, are bound both by the laws of physics and their knowledge of various sciences to control what spells they wish to cast. ~Magic Explained

  And once again I let someone die.

  Afterward the paramedics assured me there was nothing I could have done to save him. They were surprised he lived as long as he did, but he'd been dead the second his neck snapped. The mom was inconsolable, but she was mostly okay. A fracture in one hip and lots of bruising. And grief. Oh, she would have grief and guilt until the day she died. I knew that better than anyone else.

  They let me go about three hours later and I snuck out, grateful no one I was friends with had seen that. I didn't need the extra pressure. The effort to grab a bus seemed too much and I walked home, lost in guilt and frustration. Between my money worry, the look on Bobby's face as he died, and being emotionally exhausted, I didn't even remember the walk home, though by the time I got there and climbed my stairs it registered that I was freezing.

  Getting inside, I checked the time, not even one in the afternoon. Great, a day's worth of drama and I couldn't even justify going to bed. My shivering made it hard to think, so I headed to the bathroom. I tripped once trying to get out of my clothes, but whether that was part of Catastrophe Cori or the fact my hands were too cold to grab my clothing correctly was anyone's guess. I made it into the shower and stood there, letting the heat blunt the sharp edges. I don't know if I cried. I refused to pay attention, just letting the water beat down on me like a thousand tiny lashes against my skin. When it started to run cold, I got out and pulled on comfort clothes; sweats, tank top and fuzzy socks.

  I shuffled down the hall to my living area, thinking I might gorge on popcorn, I still had some. I drew to a halt when I saw Jo sitting there.

  "Heya. Shouldn't you be working?" I wasn't really surprised Jo was there. Somehow it felt inevitable. I'd given her a key years ago. We used to have sleepovers, but lately we were always working or going to school. If I'd had another bedroom, I'd have asked her to move in with me. I missed her bright cheery presence as a daily spark.

  "Sam called. Explained what happened. What you did. Dad kicked me over here with that." She nodded at the large bag sitting on my counter, the closest thing I had to a table. I arched a brow and moved over to open it. Every step, every movement felt like my body weighed a thousand pounds. I recognized the signs of depression. Been there, done that, and nothing changed so I refused to give into it. Depression didn't mean I didn't have bills to pay and goals. My parents had already given up on me—I refused to give up on myself.

  Trying to shake off the mood, I opened the huge reusable bag and shock rippled through me. Not only was there enough food to feed me for the next two weeks, all nicely packaged in meal containers for me, but a fifth of rum and a two liter of Coca-Cola. I looked at Jo, confused as I pulled it out. Neither of us were old enough to buy liquor and her brothers had proven remarkably resistant to our requests.

  "No one should have to be alone after watching someone die, even when that person is a stranger." Even those simple words brought the image of the dying boy back into my mind, overlaid with the way Stevie had looked.

  I must have faded out for a second, swamped by memories new and old, because when I refocused Jo was standing next to me. "Dad said there were some days that a good drink was the only way to make it through. Mom heard about the cut in hours from Kadia and made all the food for you. Dad told me to spend the night here." Jo looked at me and smiled. That smile had always been there for me. "Oh Cori." She pulled me into a hug and I sank into it, just letting her hold me. I didn't have any more tears, but her arms and her love helped push a lot of it back to bearable levels.

  After I pulled away, Jo helped me put all the food away, glaring at me as she took in the quantity of ramen and cheap canned soup I had in my cupboards. I ignored it. Her mom fed me at least half the time, so it wasn't like I was strictly living off that. Jo poured us two rum and cokes, and we curled up on the small couch.

  "You want to watch something?" I tried to sound interested, but right now I really wished I had a tub to soak in. I wanted to hide.

  Jo looked at me as she sipped her drink. I sipped too, enjoying the sweet spicy mix of rum and coke sliding down my throat. "What I would like is you to tell me what's going on. I can't help if you don't share."

  I shrugged. Just because I didn't tell her all my money problems didn't mean I actively lied about them. "School stuff is really expensive this year and they have started a new program that might make it harder than ever to work. And then I talked to my parents, and then today..." My throat grew tight and I took another desperate mouthful of the drink, trying to stave away the emotions, the realization of failure again.

  "Do you need money? I ca-"

  "No!" I cut her off. "I'm not about to take your money. You'll need it. I know you want school and it isn't cheap when you aren't a mage. I refuse to take any from you. Heck, the only reason I accept your mom's cooking is 'cause I can't cook anywhere near as well as she can." I reached up and scratched my head. My scalp bugged me as usual. I ignored the white flecks that settled on my shoulders.

  Jo sighed. "If I emerge as a high rank mage, I won't be able to get my mechanics cert, so the money wouldn't matter. But, okay. You know I'll do whatever you need." Her look of concern warmed me. What would I do if our lives dragged us in different directions?

  "I know. And I treasure that. But I won't be a burden to you or your family. I'll figure it out. I just may need to stay here longer than I thought. My parents will have to live with
out the rent from this place for another few months while I get my savings built back up."

  Jo looked like she wanted to protest but she needed the money she was saving up. Mages got free rides over a certain rank – though they paid in years of draft service, but that meant the rest of us paid a bit more. Trade schools, like Jo wanted, were popular, and a good value. But they were still expensive.

  "I worry about you. I really don't like your parents some days."

  I shrugged. "I'll live. I'm good at making money stretch. Want to hear about the new program that has me all stressed? Though after today I wonder if I'm making a mistake going into this profession."

  "Cori." She sighed out the word and I swallowed at the amount of love and worry in her voice. "You can't save everyone. You aren't a merlin, and even merlins can't save everybody. You did everything you could. You were there. He didn't die alone."

  That almost broke me and I had to swallow rapidly multiple times to push the tears back. "How do you know?"

  Jo gave me a funny look, then her eyes went wide. "You haven't seen, have you?"

  "Seen what?" I clasped the coke in my hands. A bad feeling, like the worst catastrophe yet was coming at me, swam in my stomach.

  "There were lots of people taking pics. It made the news. I thought you knew. One of them has a picture of you laying on the back seat of the car with your hand against the boy's face."

  I went white. "They what?" I thought back, but I couldn't remember anything except crying and watching him breathe his last. I hadn't realized the paramedics had shown up until they encouraged me to leave the vehicle. They'd taken my recitation of events, but I'd barely registered anyone except the body of the child. I'd grabbed my backpack and disappeared as soon as they were done with me. I didn't remember anyone paying that much attention to me.

  "Yeah. Not sure it's made national news or anything, but I wouldn't be surprised if reporters call you."

  That thought filled me with horror. I'd been through it once—never again. "I'm not picking up the phone if I don't know who it is." My statement came out fervently as I set my Coke down and scrambled for my phone. I had it silent for class and then hadn't paid it any attention since the accident. Sure enough, there were four missed calls, but no voicemail. I pulled that up.

  "This is Cori Munroe. If this is in regard to school please leave a message, including a number and why you are calling and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." I hit save, checked it, then dropped it on the table. One more stress I didn't need.

  I looked at Jo. "This, this sort of crap is why I don't know how you can stay my friend. Disasters follow me. Bad things happen."

  Jo groaned and took a big drink, then let her head fall back against the sofa. "Because I love you, idiot. You're my best friend. I'm never going to let you be alone." She lifted her head and stared at me. "I expect us to get jobs, live together, date people together, build houses next door, raise our children together, and eventually grow old and sit there having marshmallow wars with each other."

  A spurt of pure joy washed through me and for a moment I felt hope, unfortunately reality, jobs, and our lives would probably tear us apart. For now, I'd just enjoy it.

  "So, what about money? Want me to go talk to your parents?" Jo got an evil look on her face. "Or I could ask Mami to do it."

  The thought of Jo talking to my parents filled me with nerves, but the thought of Marisol? I blinked, then blinked again. "You think she would do that?"

  Jo jerked up straight on the couch and looked at me, her mouth dropping open. "Are you kidding? She's been waiting for YEARS for you to ask her to talk to them. She's wanted to give Estelle a very large piece of her mind. She's so mad at your mom I'm pretty sure she's been cooking so much just to keep her temper in check. And it's just getting worse." Jo bit her lip then shrugged. "I don't think Mami will mind me telling you. We moved here when I was what, nine?" Her brows furrowed as she thought.

  "Eight and a half. It was the week before our birthday, and I begged Mom to invite you. You were the toughest girl in class and I wanted you to like me."

  Jo blinked and then laughed at me. I didn't mind. "I remember that. Mami asked why when I'd only been in school a week I already had a birthday invitation. But we were still moving in so she couldn't take the time to get me over here." She flashed a smile at me and once again I couldn't imagine my life without her. "But what we never talk about is she had one miscarriage when I was seven. We were so excited about that baby. It was going to be another girl. I couldn't wait to have a sister. But something went wrong, if I knew what then I don't remember. She lost the baby. Then apparently, I had an older brother, a year before I was born, that died at six months. A SIDS death."

  I knew my face reflected my shock. SIDS or Sudden Infant Death Syndrome was something awful. They did an entire class on it and things to look for that implied child abuse instead of SIDS.

  Jo shrugged and drank a bit more, snuggling down into the couch. "Mami gets grief. She knows what it is like to lose a child. She's lost two. But she never gave up on the rest of us. Never threw the rest of us away because she was grieving or guilty."

  I didn't know what to say. Defending my parents wasn't anything I could do, yet I couldn't just stay silent. "Yeah, but I killed him."

  "No!" Jo's voice snapped out at me like a spark of electricity and I pulled back a bit, surprised by her vehemence.

  "He died in your arms. You were twelve. They still don't know why he died, what happened, nothing. Probably a fluke medical issue and even if you had been the best surgeon in the world, maybe even if you had been a merlin, you wouldn't have been able to save him. I know you blame yourself, but you didn't kill him."

  "Okay. But you don't know there wasn't something I could have done that would have saved him."

  "And neither do you. None of that justifies what your parents did. They abandoned you. Not physically but emotionally and I think that hurts worse. At least if they had just left you could be angry at them." She shook her head and brushed it away. "How much do you need?"

  "You have to promise neither you nor your parents will pull it out of your savings. You will only get it from my parents."

  "I swear. Though we would give it you. Cori, you're the sister I always wanted. I'm never giving you up. Though I really wish you did it for me." She wiggled her eyebrows at me at the last statement and I snickered.

  "I'll keep my eyes open for someone you'll like. Speaking of which, kids? Since when did you decide you wanted kids?" I didn't. The risk of losing them? To do what my parents had done? No thanks.

  She glanced away and shrugged. "I like kids. And I could just see kids with my hair. But you tend to need sperm to pull that off and guys don't give me the warm fuzzies. Maybe I'd find someone who …" She trailed off and shrugged. "There are ways. From artificial insemination to adoptions to getting it on with a guy. But I'm not doing it solo, so it isn't in the cards right now. Back to money. How much?"

  I sighed, knowing she'd never drop it, and pulled out my phone. I'd made my notes in it. "Assuming I lose about ten hours a week dropping me to twenty-five?" I typed in the numbers I'd been avoiding. They made me sick. "I need about 1500 this month to cover all the supplies and fees they added for this quarter. We're having to pay a malpractice insurance for the ride along. To avoid tapping into my savings—I have three thousand to move out and get an apartment saved—I need at least—" I swallowed at the number—"three hundred a month to bring me back up to what I was. But that 1500 is what is killing me. If I watch what I eat I might be able to squeak by."

  Jo glared at me and pulled out her phone. "Hey Stinky, will you come get us? We need to talk to Mami and Papi and we've been drinking." She paused and groaned, flopping her head back on the couch again. "Yes, he knows. He bought it. Come get us, we need to talk to them soonest." She listened for another few seconds, still in her poise of annoyance. "Stinky, I swear if you don't get over here pronto I'm calling Mami. I don't care if you're raiding. It
doesn't take that long to get here and back." Jo hung up staring at the ceiling. "I swear he's still twelve. He's older than we are, how can he still be twelve?"

  I took another big sip of my coke. I hadn't really drunk before and wasn't sure what to expect. Jo hadn't made that strong of a drink and mostly I just wanted to not stress. It seemed like I'd been searching for answers forever, and all I found were more questions.

  "Come on. Get up. We'll put all this away. I texted that we are coming over. You know she'll have food waiting for us."

  I finished my drink, feeling a bit calmer, though was that because Jo was getting me help or the booze? Either way I wasn't going to complain.

  Stinky was banging on the door before we were ready to go and he glowered the entire time. Which just made Jo move even slower to the point that Stinky's annoyance radiated from him as he drove us back. Before the rumble of the engine died, he'd bailed out and raced into the house and back to his game.

  "See? Twelve, I swear. Come on." Jo winked at me as she headed into the house, her walk suspiciously steady.

  Does that mean she's been sneaking drinks or that she didn't drink as much as me?

  I shook my head. I wasn't dizzy really but I didn't feel like my world was about to crumble either, which had to be an improvement. Trying not to be apprehensive, the rum helping, I followed her into the house. The scent of spicy peppers and broiling meat wrapped around me and pulled me into the house like arms of welcome. The stress lifted up a bit more as I shut the door behind me and the smell and warmth lifted up my heart.

  "Come on in, Cori. I've got chili rellenos cooking and mini quesadillas." Marisol called to me from the kitchen and I could hear Jo already putting bowls on the table. I knew they would be full of salsa and chips. The Guzman's never had fries, always chips and salsa. It made my stomach very happy.

  As I stepped into the kitchen, I could see Marisol putting the last of the fluffy battered chili rellenos in the pan." Hola, mi hija, grab the rice and beans and put them on the table please."