Lucky Charm (15 page)

T
he
Sentinel
office was located at the end of the hallway. It was a small room that had originally been used for storage before the students suggested that it would be perfect for the newspaper production. When Charlotte opened the door, she found Jennifer Robinson, eighth-grade editor of the
Sentinel
, at the computer sitting in a swivel chair. “You wanted to see me?” Charlotte asked.

Jennifer bit the end of her pencil and smiled. “You were interested in doing that piece on hurricane pets, right?”

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. She tried not to look too excited. “Um, yes. I was. Why?”

“Good news,” Jennifer said. “Today’s your lucky day. You get to write the piece.”

“I do?” Charlotte asked, scarcely able to believe her ears. She had dreamed about writing this story. It was right up her alley, all about volunteerism and animals. And Hilary Tamarack, the ninth-grade girl who worked at the shelter, was someone she truly admired. She couldn’t wait to interview
her and visit the animal shelter. “I’d love to, Jennifer. What made you change your mind?”

Jennifer shrugged. “I just got tickets for the Red Sox game tonight. And since the deadline is Wednesday morning, I knew I just didn’t have time to, you know,
really
dedicate myself to the piece,” she said.

So that explained her sudden generosity. Charlotte had to smile. Jennifer was always looking out for numero uno. “But that doesn’t leave me much time. I still have to set up an interview with Hilary Tamarack and visit the shelter and…”

“No, you don’t have to do any of those things. I already did that. Here are my notes from the interview.” Jennifer looked pleased with herself.

Charlotte’s felt her stomach turn. “What?”

“Here are my notes. It’s everything you’ll need to write the article.”

Charlotte scanned the three sheets of paper that Jennifer had handed her. “But you didn’t even visit the animal shelter. I thought the piece would be about—”

“Look, Charlotte. Are you gonna do it, or not?”

Charlotte wished she had the guts to tell Jennifer what she really thought. The idea for the piece had been her idea all along. Not even bothering to go to the shelter would make the story so much less interesting, but she was the reporter and Jennifer was the editor. She felt she had no choice. “I’ll do it,” Charlotte said quietly. Being a reporter was really frustrating sometimes.

“Well, that’s good because if you don’t do it, you can count on this being your last chance at the front page this year.”

Charlotte scanned through the pages of notes again. “Did you ask her about—”

“Seriously, Charlotte!” Jennifer interrupted. “You can’t just
re-interview
someone I’ve already interviewed! Do you know how bad that would look? Now just take the notes and write the article. I swear, it’ll be fine.”

Charlotte breathed deeply. She was really getting annoyed. She remembered what her father said, “Be polite, but stand up for yourself.”

“But what about Ms. Rodriguez’s lecture about keeping a reporter’s notebook during
every interview
? What if she asks to see
my
notes from visiting the shelter?”

“Hey, you’re the creative one. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Jennifer said.

“But what about—”

“Really, Charlotte…let it go!” Jennifer snapped. “You have all you need to write the piece. If necessary, I’ll add details later.”

“Add details later?” Charlotte asked. “How do you write an article without details?”

But her question fell on deaf ears. Jennifer had already left the room and headed to class.

Charlotte didn’t look at Jennifer’s notes again until the end of the day. The questions and answers were all very ordinary, run of the mill. Charlotte had been hoping that there would be something interesting, some fascinating tidbit that would really hook the reader. Charlotte stopped by the ninth-grade hall to see if she could find Hilary Tamarack and at least ask her a couple more questions. She ran into one of Hilary’s friends, Julie Atkinson.

“Julie, Julie! Have you seen Hilary? I’m supposed to write an article about her for the
Sentinel
and I just need to ask her a few questions.”

“Wait, didn’t Jennifer tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Hilary’s gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“Hilary’s in Louisiana with her parents working with the animal rescue program. She won’t be back until next week. She told me she wouldn’t even have time to talk to me.”

For the second time that day, Charlotte felt her stomach turn as she felt the harsh reality sink in. She had two days to write a cover story with shoddy notes, no details, no sources, and absolutely no way out. And she had to figure out how to convince Katani, Isabel, and Maeve that keeping Marty was the right thing to do.
Gosh
, thought Charlotte,
could things get any worse
?

Hot Water

When Maeve arrived late to Montoya’s, she was surprised to find that she was the first BSG there. She’d stayed after at the end of social studies, talking to Ms. O’Reilly about her last test. She had done better than she hoped, but Ms. O’Reilly wanted to show Maeve how she could improve her C grade to a B. By the time she made it to her locker, she didn’t see any of the BSG and figured they’d all left for the bakery.

Mid-afternoon was usually a quiet hour at the bakery. Most kids had after-school activities and all the adults were at work. There were a few mothers with toddlers and a couple of elderly couples. On her way in she bent down to say
hello to a curly haired, redheaded toddler. She explained to the mother than redheads had to stick together. Maeve sat down at a round table in the corner to finally catch her breath. She couldn’t believe she had run the whole way for nothing

Eduardo, a cute college student who worked there in the afternoons and evenings, made his way to the table. He had a mop of curly, dark hair and deep, brown eyes as yummy as melted chocolate. “Hot chocolate, please,” she said, when he asked what she wanted. Eduardo was very dreamy.

“Hey, where is everybody?” Isabel asked. She seemed just at breathless as Maeve as she collapsed in a chair.

“I don’t know!” Maeve looked at her watch. “They should be here soon, I hope…”

“To be honest, I’m glad it’s just you right now. I wanted to talk to you about something, Maeve.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Isabel sighed. “I feel so torn about Marty. I know how important he is to Charlotte and Avery, and I totally love the little guy, but at the same time…I can’t help thinking about the money. It could help so many people in so many ways. So then I wonder if it could be wrong to keep him.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Maeve agreed as Eduardo brought the hot chocolate to the table. “I would hate to give up my little guinea pigs. It would just kill me. But if someone needed the money really bad I don’t know how I would feel.”

“Miss?” he asked, looking at Isabel. She responded to him in Spanish and he nodded and walked back to the kitchen.

“What did you say?” Maeve asked.

“I told him that there would be three more of us coming
in a minute, so he wouldn’t have to make so many trips.”

Charlotte arrived next, looking sad and downtrodden.

“Hey, Charlotte. Is everything…okay?” Maeve asked.

Charlotte blinked. “What? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Maeve wanted to ask if there was anything going on—besides Marty missing, of course—but before she could say anything, in tromped Avery followed by a somber Katani.

Eduardo returned to the table and Isabel ordered everyone a round of hot chocolate. An awkward silence hung over the group.

“Okay,” Maeve said. “Let’s get started.” She tried to keep her voice calm and confident. For a minute, she thought she actually sounded like Ms. Rodriguez. This made her sit a little taller. What would Ms. R do in this situation? She would probably ask everyone to write something down. It wasn’t Maeve’s favorite activity, but since no one seemed to want to talk, maybe writing was the best solution.

Maeve reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. She folded it up and tore it into five strips. “Okay, I have an idea. How about we all just write down what we want to happen?”

Considering the way the BSG had been getting along lately, Maeve expected
someone
to object. Surprisingly, though, the girls shrugged, nodded, and searched for their pencils. When everyone finished scribbling, Maeve tore another sheet into strips and handed them out again.

“Now write down what you think would be the best way to accomplish your goal,” Maeve said.

Maeve wouldn’t admit to anyone that she really didn’t know what she was doing here. In fact, she had no plan at
all. But she liked the fact that they were all in the same place, at the same table, attempting to solve the problem together. Something good was bound to happen.

“I’m going to collect the sheets now,” Maeve said.

Maeve unfolded the papers, including her own, and read each of the goals:

• - Save High Hopes Riding Stable
  
• - Help people who need it
  
• - Get Marty back
  
• - Bring Marty home
  
• - Make everybody happy
  

Even though no one had signed her name, it was pretty obvious who had written what. And she also could see that the group was hopelessly divided between the money and the dog. Maeve then asked everyone to pass in the next set of slips. The first one almost made her fall out of her chair.

“Kidnap Marty?” She read out loud. “Kidnap?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Avery asked.

Maeve raised her eyebrows.

Katani snorted and looked at the ceiling. “Leave it to Avery to get us all arrested and put in prison. Read the next one, Maeve.”

“Call Mr. Flores and accept his offer,” Maeve read.

“That seems logical,” Katani said but without the intensity of a few days ago.

Avery and Charlotte looked upset at her comment but neither wanted to say anything. When Katani had taken a position on something, they both knew it was hard to get
her out of it. So, for once, irrepressible Avery bit her tongue. Charlotte gave Avery a reassuring smile, which was the first time she had really reached out to Avery in days.

“Why don’t you read the next one,” Isabel suggested in a calm voice.

“Rent Marty to Mr. Flores for ten thousand a year during baseball season and then have Marty live with us the rest of the year,” Maeve read aloud, and then looked at everyone with big eyes.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Katani said, suddenly upbeat.

“What?” Avery said. “Baseball season starts with spring training in February and continues through the end of October. That only leaves us eight weeks.”

“Well, we’ve only had Marty a short time,” Katani pointed out.

Avery was fuming. “Katani, I am so mad at you. You only care about what you want to happen!” Katani looked stung and began to shift in her seat.

“OKAY, ENOUGH!” Maeve interrupted. “We still have more to read…” She cleared her throat and held up another strip. “Convince Robbie Flores that Marty
isn’t
his Lucky Charm so he will want to give him back.”

The group looked at Charlotte.

“Belief is a powerful thing,” said Isabel. “My mother’s doctors talk about belief all the time. They say it always makes a difference if you believe.”

“Sorry Charlotte, but that’s never going to work.”

Everyone jumped because no one realized that Nick had been listening to their conversation. Even Maeve, who had
positioned herself so she could see everything in the room, had been so involved in the conversation that she didn’t see him walk up to the table.

“What’s not going to work?” Maeve asked.

“There’s no way you can make Robbie Flores change his mind,” Nick said.

“He’ll change his thinking if I go to the press. The negative publicity will crush him,” Avery said.

“Oh, that’s great, Ave,” Nick said. “The Sox are tied with the Yankees in first place with only four games left in the season. If Flores slumps and the team loses the next couple of games, it’s over. Everyone in Boston will be protesting outside
your
house. Besides, do you really want it on your conscience that you took away the number-one Red Sox hitter’s lucky charm?”

“Hey, we didn’t ask him to steal our dog,” Avery shot back.

“If I remember correctly, didn’t he find Marty wandering around in a busy parking lot without a collar on? If he didn’t take Marty that day, who knows what would have happened. So don’t blame Flores for trying to help a poor lost dog, Avery.”

Nick’s words were forceful. Charlotte kind of liked the daring gleam in his eyes, even if she didn’t like everything he was saying. Nick’s words had the opposite effect on Avery. She sank back into her chair and curled her head toward her chest.

Nick shook his head as he cleared the empty mugs from the table and disappeared behind the swinging doors.

“Baseball,” Charlotte grumbled. “It’s all people think
about around here. Can we at least agree that Marty is more important than the Red Sox winning the series?”

That was definitely something all the BSG could agree on. Maeve tried to think of what Ms. Rodriguez would do now, but before she had a chance, Katani looked at her watch and said she had to get home.

“But we haven’t finished solving this problem,” a disappointed Maeve protested.

“I know, but I have to be home. You know, Kelley…” Katani shrugged.

Where was Ms. Rodriguez when you really needed her? Maeve sighed.

Charlotte, Avery, and Isabel excused themselves as well.

Maeve sat at the table watching as her friends left Montoya’s. She twirled a straw in her cocoa.
Well,
she thought,
all things considered, the meeting could have gone worse.

W
hatcha working on, Charlotte?” Mr. Ramsey asked.

Charlotte stared at the screen of her laptop. She had no idea how to get started on the article. She shut her eyes and tried to visualize what the shelter would have been like, but nothing came to mind. She was blank. No matter how hard she tried, Charlotte couldn’t imagine the interview with Hilary or the animal shelter, because she hadn’t been there.

“Hey, Earth to Charlotte! Dad, here!”

At that moment, Charlotte could no longer hold it in. The tears that had been brimming in her eyes all day started trickling down her cheeks.

“I know. I know, honey,” Mr. Ramsey said. “First Orangina and now Marty. Our track record isn’t very good. It seems that when it comes to pets we aren’t very lucky.”

“It’s not just that,” Charlotte sniffled.

Her father lowered his eyebrows and looked perplexed. “It’s not?”

“Marty is only part of it. I’ve had a really bad week. My
friends and I can’t agree on anything, and I don’t know what we are going to do,” she admitted.

“And that’s only
part
of why you feel sad?” Mr. Ramsey asked. “What else?”

“Well, yesterday, Jennifer Robinson, the editor of the
Sentinel
, gave me this assignment for a front-page story.”

“That’s great, Charlotte!”

“No. NO! It’s awful.”

“Awful?” Mr. Ramsey looked more confused than before.

“Look at this!” Charlotte commanded, showing her father the three pages of notes. “How am I supposed to write a good piece from these notes? Jennifer said I can’t call Hilary again and do a phone interview—she’s in Louisiana right now. I haven’t visited the shelter at all. Ms. Rodriguez keeps telling us to use detail,
telling
detail, and I can’t do it! I feel like I’m trying to write from inside a paper bag.”

“Nice analogy.”

“Dad,” Charlotte pleaded, “when I told Jennifer this afternoon that I didn’t think I had enough information to write the piece, she told me not to worry about it. She already did the interview. She said I should just write the article with her notes and she’ll add the details later.”

“Hmm…that doesn’t sound very helpful to me.”

“I mean, it’s sort of like saying to an artist, go ahead and sketch that picture of the sunset in Arizona. Don’t worry about the colors—we’ll add them later.”

Mr. Ramsey nodded. “I can see why you’re frustrated. But as a writer you’re going to have to learn how to deal with these situations. Being able to get firsthand observation and
detail is the best, but when you can’t, you have to learn to rely on other sources.”

“This is almost like trying to design a house from a cartoon drawing.”

“Another good analogy,” Mr. Ramsey said with a smile. “But, it can be done. Remember when I was writing the book on the Great Barrier Reef? I really wanted to see a great white shark. After fifteen diving trips, I’d seen all kinds of sharks, but not a great white. I had to rely on my experience with the sharks I did see and then supplement that with things other people told me.”

Charlotte tried to recompose herself. “How can I do that here? I don’t know anyone who works in a shelter.”

“That’s true, but you
have
lost a pet recently,” Mr. Ramsey pointed out.

“What does that have to do with this?” Charlotte asked.

“You’ve been visiting lots of shelters lately. Not the shelter that Hilary volunteers at, but animal shelters all the same.”

Charlotte thought back to the night when they went to the Sawgrass Animal Shelter when they thought they’d found Marty.

“Mix those firsthand thoughts and impressions with what you have here and I think you’ll be able to get through this,” Mr. Ramsey said.

Charlotte wiped away the last of her tears and took a deep breath. Sometimes her dad was so smart. She wished she hadn’t waited so long to ask him for help. If she had asked earlier, she wouldn’t be so tired and frustrated.

“Writing is kind of like making a quilt,” Mr. Ramsey
continued. “It’s a scrap craft. You take scraps of information, scraps of experiences—both your own and experiences of others. Then you cut and stitch until you put them together in a way that makes sense.”

Charlotte threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you so much. This was really helpful.”

“Honey, I wish I could solve the Marty problem just as easily. Did you girls get any closer to a solution today?”

“No,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “We still have no idea what to do. Someone suggested renting Marty to Robbie Flores just for the baseball season. That almost seems like the best idea.”

“Renting him?”

“Yeah. Marty could stay with Robbie Flores during baseball season and live with us the rest of the time. This year we could give the money to Katani’s stable and next year maybe we could donate the money to the Multiple Sclerosis Society for Isabel’s mom.”

“You plan on charging ten thousand dollars a season?”

“I know, I know. It does sound ridiculous. Do you think we’d be cheating him? I mean, you don’t
really
believe that Marty is a good-luck charm, do you?”

Mr. Ramsey shrugged. “Well, that all depends on what Robbie Flores believes. Remember, belief is a powerful thing.”

“That’s exactly what Isabel said. It would be different if he gave us a donation for Katani’s stable. But to take the money as payment for a
lucky charm
to win baseball games seems…kind of crummy.”

Mr. Ramsey looked at his watch. “Speaking of baseball,
the game is starting now. Maybe we can do a little more research and see just how lucky this charm is,” Mr. Ramsey suggested, clicking on the TV. Charlotte stretched out on the floor and tried to concentrate on writing her article as her father watched the game. It was easy to write during ball games because baseball didn’t demand her full attention. All Charlotte had to listen for was the roar of the crowd and then watch the replay.

After two and a half hours, the Sox were down three to nothing. When the commercials came on, Mr. Ramsey leaned over and inspected Charlotte’s notebook.

“How’s it going, kiddo?” he asked.

Charlotte showed him the title. “Barlow Animal Shelter: A Home for Foul Weather Friends.”

Mr. Ramsey read through Charlotte’s rough draft during the bottom of the eighth. Neither of them was too worried about watching the game. It seemed the Sox were definitely going to lose this one.

Mr. Ramsey tapped the paper when he was done. “Good! Very good! And excellent detail. No one would know that you hadn’t actually been there. Considering the circumstances, I’d say you did an outstanding job. See what happens when you use your imagination and your experience?”

Just then the crowd roared. Charlotte and her father turned their attention to the television.

“Look! Robbie Flores hit a grand slam homerun!” Mr. Ramsey exclaimed.

“Oh my goodness! The Red Sox won!” Charlotte shouted.

Mr. Ramsey slapped her five. “Maybe Marty is good luck!
That was an incredibly lucky comeback,” he noted.

They heard a knock come from the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. Ramsey? Charlotte?” It was Miss Pierce, their landlady.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Pierce. Are we too loud?” Mr. Ramsey asked.

“Heavens, no! I just finished watching the game myself. With a comeback like that, who wouldn’t be loud?”

Charlotte and her father breathed a sigh of relief as Miss Pierce continued, “I just thought you might be interested in what I found scratching at my back door.” With that, she let go of the leash she was holding. Ten pounds of wiggling, jiggling mutt came bounding up the stairs.

“MARTY!” Charlotte screamed.

M.V.P. (Most Valuable Pooch)

Marty was wearing a new red collar with a gold tag engraved with
LUCKY CHARM
in fancy letters.

“Oh, my!” Miss Pierce said when she saw that his mud-spattered body had gotten Charlotte’s sweatshirt all muddy.

Marty jumped up and licked Charlotte’s face, getting mud on her cheeks as well.

“How did he get here? He must have slipped away! You found your way home, didn’t you, little guy? You smart little puppy!” Charlotte cried, hugging and kissing the little doggie all over. “Thanks so much, Miss Pierce.”

“Now what are you going to do?” Mr. Ramsey asked.

“I have an idea,” Charlotte replied. She picked up the phone and immediately called Avery to tell her the news.

“Now I can love baseball again! WHOOOO-HOOO!”
Avery yelled so loud, Charlotte had to hold the phone away from her ear. “When did you say that Marty showed up?” Avery asked.

“Just a few minutes ago, before Robbie Flores’s home run.”

“Think about it, Charlotte. If Marty came home just now, he must have left Fenway a while ago, right? So…Marty had nothing to do with the win!”

Charlotte gasped. “Which means that…”

“MARTY ISN’T THE LUCKY CHARM!” Charlotte and Avery cried at the same time.

“If that’s true, we can forget about the ten thousand dollars, I guess. Katani is going to be really disappointed,” Avery reasoned.

Charlotte realized she was right. “I think maybe it would be a good idea if we waited ’til tomorrow and told the BSG in person.”

“Agreed!” said Avery.

Just then, Charlotte thought of something. “Hey, Avery, remember how scared we were when we couldn’t find Marty? Do you think Robbie Flores is going through the same thing right now?” she asked.

“Maybe…”

“I’d better call him.”

“Charlotte, NO!” Avery exclaimed. “What if he wants to take him back?”

“Trust me,” Charlotte said. “I don’t think we’ll have that problem.”

When Charlotte told her father, he agreed that it was a good idea. She called the number that Robbie Flores left on
her answering machine, but there was no answer. Flores’s voicemail picked up the call.

Charlotte waited for the beep, then spoke. “Hi. This is Charlotte, one of the girls who owns Marty. I called to tell you that I know where he is…Marty, that is…I mean, Lucky Charm. Anyway, please call back,” she said and left her number.

Charlotte was asleep when the phone rang at midnight.

“Hello?” she mumbled.

“This is Robbie Flores. I am going to the airport soon. Quick, please, I need my Lucky Charm. I can’t go anywhere without him.”

This was the moment Charlotte had been waiting for. “Mr. Flores, Marty isn’t your lucky charm. He was already here when you hit your home run tonight,” Charlotte said.

There was stunned silence on the other end of the phone.

Charlotte had a flash of inspiration. She continued, “You are welcome to keep Happy Lucky Thingy, though.”

“What?”

“You know, the little pink toy that Marty had when you found him?”

“
Sí
,” Mr. Flores replied.

“Well, if Marty was here when you won,
he’s
not the lucky charm. It’s Happy Lucky Thingy! That’s the charm you’ve had the whole time!”

“You mean the toy, the one with the funny name, that is my lucky charm?” Robbie Flores asked.

“Exactly.”

“My friend Katani is making you your own special Happy Lucky Thingy as we speak!” Charlotte crossed her
fingers behind her back. “When you come back, we will have the most beautiful Happy Lucky for you.”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right! It was, how you say,
Happy Lucky Thingy
. Thank you, Charlotte. It is because of you and your friends that the Red Sox can win. I owe you all much. Please tell me what I can do to repay you for your help.”

Charlotte paused. She called up her bravest self. “I’m really happy that Marty is back. And that you still have your lucky charm. So I guess we can both be happy. But some of my friends really wanted you to keep Marty. You see, for them, the ten thousand dollars would have made a big difference. My friend Katani’s sister is autistic, and her therapeutic riding stable might have to close down. You know, the money would have been their lucky charm,” she said. She absolutely couldn’t believe that she managed to get her speech out. Her heart was pounding.

Charlotte briefly described the High Hopes therapeutic riding program and the urgent need for funds. “I’m glad Marty came home, because we couldn’t figure out how to work it out. But I know that Katani and Isabel would have been happy if things had been…different,” she said. She bit her lip, unsure of what Robbie would do.

“I will think more about this. I must go now though—the plane is waiting for me. Thank you again, Charlotte. Take good care of Lucky Charm…I mean, Marty. I’ll miss that little dude.”

Charlotte snuggled her face in Marty’s wiggly little body.