The Fortune Master

Chapter 2

Connie Stewart woke up at 5 A.M. the next morning, despite her attempts to "relax," like Lucy told her to. It was a habit of hers she just couldn't turn off.

It was so weird to see the sky dark and starry but not be rushing to either work or home. Connie never really saw the blue skies except for on Sundays, when Drizzlery was closed, and on the other days of the week she stayed at work all the time. She didn't exactly have very many friends she could go see.

But she did know one kind 27-year-old woman who worked at the Drizzlery and whose office was close to hers in the building. At lunch break Connie often ate with her, too. At least there was someone else for her to call and tell about her break and the lottery.

"Veronica?" Connie said into her phone. "Hello?"

"Oh, hello, Connie," said Veronica's smooth English voice. "Alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Connie, who found it quite easy to adjust to the British-like phrases in Astryl, England. "Just calling to say I won't be coming to work the next few weeks. Can you slip it in a conversation with Gerald?"

"You won't?" asked Veronica incredulously. "Don't you work for the expenses of your entire family? Did the twins graduate?"

"No, Lucy and Jacob are twelve. And I do. But my mom just won the lottery—it's ridiculous!"

"That's fantastic! Connie, I'm chuffed to bits for you! It's odd, really."

"I know! The odds—"

"No, Connie, I mean it's odd. Barmy. My family's been having the worst of luck lately!"

"How so?"

"The electrical cord's been cut, my father's gotten really sick, and my mum's lost her job after someone bloody framed her!"

"That's awful!" Connie said, her voice indicating pity but her face indicating curiosity.

"Well, I've got to go. I'll tell Gerald, suppose I'll call you later?"

"Yeah." The call ended. That was so awful for Veronica's dad!

"Connie, Connie look!" It was Jacob. Why was he waking up so early lately?

"Jacob, you're up aga—" Connie's eyes widened and she froze. She'd turned around to face him but instead came face-to-face with Jacob's latest English test. On it was a big, thick, red A+—something very uncommon to see on his tests.

Connie reached out to grab it and took a closer look, pacing in short lines. All of the answers had checks next to them—as correct as could be. "Jacob, was this really your work?"

"Yeah, and it's so weird!" He laughed. "We were supposed to read chapter seven, but my favorite YouTuber posted, and he almost never posts! So I had to watch, then another posted, and it went on and on until it was time for bed, so... I didn't do it. I guessed on the tests and I guess they were all right!"

Connie frowned. "Half of these aren't even multiple choice, Jacob."

"I know. That's what makes it even weirder!" She frowned at him. "Come on, Connie. If I'd gotten the grade by cheating, I'd have waited for the report card. Why bring my crime right to you?"

That was very true. Jacob would never rush to have Connie figure out he was cheating. "Anyway, I forgot to show you when you came home because Mom was going on about the whole lottery thing. I guess we're just having really good luck!"

"I guess," said Connie. She frowned again. They were having great luck, and Veronica coincidentally bad luck? She knew it was a very, very tiny thing and it was most likely nothing, but she felt an urge to chase after this tiny, tiny thing. Something compelled her to believe there was something else going on behind the scenes.

"I'm going to go check on the neighbors," said Connie. "See if they're alright."

"The Wests?" Jacob asked. When she nodded, he said, "Why would you need to check on them? Their lives are totally perfect, 24/7—especially Victoria. They're the luckiest people alive!"

That's exactly why I'm checking on them, Connie wanted to say, but she wasn't about to share her suspicions about luck being tipped over the tightrope of balance with a seventh grade boy who still rode a tricycle with a helmet to school. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Jacob nodded halfheartedly. "I guess. Well, I'm going down to watch TV. It's Saturday, remember, Connie?" He squeezed Connie and ran down the stairs, his messy hair jumping with each step.

Connie ran down as well to go see if the West family was doing okay. She knocked on the door, expecting the perfect face of the spoiled Victoria West. But instead she found Ian, her 25-year-old brother, and he wasn't looking his best.

She almost coughed when she saw the normally quite handsome boy looking like Jacob after he went out with his friends to ride their dirt bikes—only forty years older. "Ian! I—er—what happened?"

Ian glared grumpily at her. "We haven't been having the best luck this week, Connie. And this is the only time you'll see my perfect picture looking like this. Ria, my sister, would've answered the door, but she's an even bigger mess than I am."

"What happened, though?"

"Our cute puppy turned on us, per se. He went bloody rogue in the house and ruined all of our perfect pristine furniture. My three-thousand dollar shoes? Ruined by the bloody mutt that used to be our perfect pet!"

"Oh, goodness, that's awful," said Connie. "I'm so—"

"Tut, tut, I'm not done. Then the water went down, so we've had to go to the nearby high school and take our showers there! It's awfully embarrassing to take a shower in the same room as a group of teenagers! Everyone would imagine I went back about twenty grades! Then they pelted pebbles with dirt on them at my very own face—every day they do this, right after my shower!"

"That's—"

"And then, you won't believe what happened!" Ian told her with a disbelieving tone. "All of my beautiful and one-of-a-kind clothing had gone down in a normal washer instead of being dry-cleaned! And while you would expect them to turn up not as good, that isn't what happened! My designer clothing? Torn and ripped to pieces!" Ian sobbed. "I had to go over to the poor people's shop and buy this garbage! And the cashier asked if I might've wanted it on sale! Me, Ian West, needing something on sale? It was awful!" Connie looked at his clothes. He was wearing a short-sleeved white T-shirt and black jeans, which didn't look too bad. His shoes were ankle-high and really nice. Ian finally started dressing like a normal 25-year-old but now he was crying about it?

"I—" She paused, expecting him to interrupt. When he didn't, she continued. "I'm really sorry about all of that. So you've been having a bad week, I guess?"

"I guess?!" Ian yelled. He wiped his cheek. "This is the worst week of my entire life! This is the worst luck I've ever encountered!"

Connie nodded, feeling awkward. "Good to know you're well," she said oddly. "I'll be off, then."

Ian looked at her in disbelief before looking away strangely and closing the door. Connie walked back home.

The TV was on and blaring on the news channel, NCG—Newscast Global. "And now, bringing it back to Bob. Any odd news, Bob?"

"Well, Jim, I'd have to say that there has been a global loss of luck. People have been losing their jobs, money, and it seems every electrical cord in the world has been cut! Even hardworking children are finding Fs on their tests. This is a very strange turn of events, don't you think, Jim?"

"Very strange indeed, Bob. Now, Larry, with sports."

Connie tuned out the rest of the news. There was no denying it now. Something very odd was happening.

And it went deeper than just bad luck.