Sparkler Snapshots

XXIX | Black Cats and Top Hats

"I'd be more worried about Friday the 13th if my life wasn't already a string of inexplicable events." – Unknown

Date:
January 13th, 2017
October 13th, 2017

Occasion: Friday the 13th

Countries: Worldwide

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XXIX | Black Cats and Top Hats

Even with the many strange occurrences in the town of Necmire considered, none of them came close to the wrath brought upon it by Friday the 13th. The whole population was electrified on this particular October morning as they waited for fate to strike them down, and Wyatt Taylor was no different. With shoulders tensed and veins almost popping out of his skin, he'd made it his mission to rifle through each of my drawers, searching for any sign of a good luck charm.

Not that the view was anything to complain about, but I was growing tired of his constant shuffling and reshuffling of my possessions. Even though I'd given him permission to search through my belongings, aside from my underwear drawer, I was beginning to regret my decision, especially after noticing that the floor was now made up of more paper than carpet. Of course, I took no liberty in helping him search, preferring to laze across the length of my bed, sipping an iced lemonade.

"Found anything?" I asked, bringing the glass to my lips again so that sourness of the drink danced across my taste buds.

"Jesus Christ, how many books do you own?" came a muffled, incredulous reply from my bookshelf. Wyatt was buried deep in my collection of books, with his head stuck in between pages and the rest of his body sticking out. "How the hell do you have time to read all these, Zoey?"

"Maybe because I'm not as paranoid as you about bad luck? Or perhaps because I have a life? Loads of reasons," I answered lazily, taking another sip of the lemonade.

Wyatt emerged from the shelf, looking like he'd aged fifty years. His usual chestnut hair, streaked with natural highlights, was coated with a fine layer of gray dust. The stress wrinkles from his frown didn't help his case. He'd had that face on ever since he arrived at my house, and had to restrain himself from socking me in the face after I told him to turn his frown upside down. He usually had a sense of humor, but the prospect of bad luck always dampened his mood.

Most kids grow up believing that bad luck is a scam, but us Necmire kids, we grew up paranoid about ladders and black cats. Some more than others, as seen with Wyatt. In this town, luck was quantified into a point system. The more good luck charms we have on us, the more points, and the more often we catch sight of a black cat, or break a mirror, we lose points. The less points we have, the higher chance that our rope snaps if we decide to go skydiving, or we get suffocated by our pillows while asleep. Needless to say, we grew up terrified of everything.

"Nothing," Wyatt muttered in frustration, shaking his head so that the dust flew off in small clouds. "I can't believe you have no charms here." He cast one last longing glance at my underwear drawer, but caught the glare I shot at him and quickly looked away. "How could you be so reckless today? Of all days?"

"What?" I protested, setting my lemonade glass on a nearby table and shifting to an upright position. Wyatt quirked an eyebrow at me, so I spluttered, trying to defend myself, knowing that my argument was going to flop. "Sure, I'm not as prepared as you, but I'm just as good, if not better, at avoiding bad luck."