Cynthia Kadohata - The Thing About Luck

And what kind of crazy person pays a hundred dollars for a single chicken? I looked up at the stars. Jaz thought that out there in other galaxies, there were other inhabited planets, and that each inhabited planet had its own Bible, and that somewhere in some library in outer space there was something like a galactic Encyclopaedia Britannica . I looked back down. I thought of my savings—and of how, after I paid for the chickens, I would have only $161 to show for all the work I’d done in my whole life. A moth landed on me, and I smashed it hard on my arm.

Instantly remorseful, I said, “Sorry, mothie.”

I wiped the moth gunk off my arm. Mr. Laskey could afford to lose three hundred dollars more than we could afford it. Dang!

“Come,” I said to Thunder, and he followed me into our camper, to our end of it.

Obaachan, who was reading a Japanese magazine, said, “What you want?”

“Obaachan, I can’t tell anyone now. Mr. Laskey’s already so upset.”

“Sometime it very inconvenient to tell truth. But girl I be proud of tell the truth, anyway.”

“You are the guilt trip queen!” I shouted at her.

“Grounded for week for yelling at me.” She spoke without moving her eyes from the magazine. I made a mental note that I should start keeping track of how much she said she was grounding me. It was adding up.

I pulled my purse from my luggage and took out three hundred dollars. It was a pretty, yellow straw purse with a wooden fish attached to the zipper. I had gotten it for Christmas. I had twenty-one one-dollar bills and the rest in twenties. “Stay,” I said to Thunder. “I’m about to do something that’s probably really stupid.”

I strode across the field toward the farmhouse. It was just like a house I would love to live in one day—two stories, a big covered porch, and wicker chairs. They looked so pretty that I went to sit on one for a moment. It would be so nice to sit out here at night and look at the stars. I thought I heard a noise and jumped up and looked around guiltily. But I didn’t see anyone. I knocked on the door.

Mrs. Laskey answered. “Yes?”

I hesitated—Mrs. Laskey didn’t look like I would have imagined. Her hair was completely unstyled, not even combed. It was just kind of smooshed on top of her head. And she wore bright red lipstick. Who wore bright red lipstick on a farm? She was exactly my height, five foot one. She looked a little crazy, actually, but in kind of a cute way, like someday she might become Obaachan or Jiichan. That kind of cute ... although I guess Obaachan wasn’t so cute.

“May I speak to Mr. Laskey? I’m with the Parkers.”

“Is it something I can help you with?” She gazed at me sincerely, like she really would like to help me.

“It’s about the coyotes.”

“Oh, all right, then. I’ll get him. He’s in a war with the coyotes.” She invited me inside, then she turned to pick up something from a small table in the foyer. “Would this be yours? It kind of looks like the one you’re wearing.” She held up a crumpled apron.

I looked at the apron. “Yes, that would be mine.” My face burned. I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped it. She handed it to me, and I stuffed it into my back pocket.

She studied me for a moment. Then she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” and my heart went out to her.

On the table in the foyer there was a lamp that was darkish silver glass interspersed with lighter silver glass in the shape of flowers. I had never seen such a beautiful lamp. I didn’t even know anyone made beautiful lamps. I thought lamps were just lamps. It took all my self-control not to lean over and touch it.

Mr. Laskey walked into the foyer. “So you saw the coyotes?” He looked at me as if we were both involved in some kind of conspiracy against those evil coyotes.

“No, sir.”

He waited. I stared at him. I had the sudden thought that this was maybe the stupidest idea ever, like, in history. But it was too late now. He started to look puzzled as I just stood there.

“Well, what is it, then, young lady?”

“There are no coyotes,” I said sadly. “I mean, there are coyotes, but not here. I mean, not that I know of. My dog killed your chickens, sir.” I thrust a wad of bills out to him. “And here’s three hundred dollars to pay for them.” As I was handing him the money, my intuition told me that he had exaggerated how much his chickens were worth. Only a madman would pay one hundred dollars for a chicken.

I was hoping he wouldn’t take the money, but he did. Close up, he seemed so normal, not like someone I should be scared of. His balding head looked soft, and his face looked kind of doughy. And maybe somewhere in that face I saw a hard life. He frowned and counted the money as if I might have cheated him. I waited for him to lecture me. I’d heard many lectures in my life, so I was prepared. “You let your dog run wild in the vicinity of my house?” he asked.

“No, he’s always with me. I went to see your giant horse, and I forgot about Thunder—that’s my dog—and he found the chickens.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the camper. He’s confined.”

“I want you to keep a good eye on him every second from now on. And I mean every second.”

“I will.”

“And your parents do what exactly?”

That panicked me a bit—I didn’t want Obaachan and Jiichan getting fired. “My grandfather drives a combine and my grandmother is the cook for the crew.”

He pulled at his upper lip with a thumb and forefinger. He was quite expert at it and pulled his lip out farther than I would have thought a lip could go. Then he said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take a hundred and leave you the rest.” He counted out a hundred dollars and handed the rest to me. “If it happens again, I’ll have to ask the Parkers to get rid of the dog.”

“Yes, sir. I swear it won’t happen again.”

But his mind had already moved on. “We tried to get the horse into the record books, but he didn’t even make it into the top ten.” He flipped out his palms, like, What are you gonna do?

“There must be some big horses out there. Anyway, thank you for, uh ... ”

“I appreciate your honesty. Now, run along, young lady.”

He was already closing the door as I said, “Good night.”

I ran all the way back to our camper. The combines were still churning away, the sound growing louder as they moved nearer, their lights shifting in tandem. I watched for a minute, just kind of smiling to myself. Then I burst into the camper and skipped to our end. Obaachan was lying on her mattress, but the light was on. She was admiring her hands again. I said, “I confessed to Mr. Laskey. I told him Thunder killed his chickens.”

“What he say?” Obaachan asked. She lifted herself with a grunt. She looked worried.

“I offered him three hundred dollars, and he was so nice, he only took a hundred!”

“Not nice. He lie. Nobody pay him that much for chicken. But that stupid thing you did.”

What? “I thought you wanted me to confess!”

“I did. But sometimes you have to do something stupid to do right thing. But right thing more important than stupid.” She lay back down.

“Are you proud of me?”

Obaachan thought about that. “You did many stupid thing in a row, but I not ashamed anymore. Oyasumi .”

“Oyasuminasai.” I got in bed feeling ridiculously lighthearted. I felt like I had saved the world or something. On a whim I untucked my sheet and put my pillow on the south end of the bed. Maybe I’d have even better luck tomorrow.

Obaachan let me sleep in the next morning. It turned out that Jaz had the flu, and Obaachan was worried I might get sick as well, so she didn’t wake me up. It was weird—one day she would scold me constantly, and the next day she’d worry I might be sick. But I was fine. It was your basic harvest day—long and quiet, with the whole crew out in the fields. I didn’t see Robbie all day, so I just wandered around alone, did some homework, and helped out in the kitchen.