Brandon said. He opened his locker, pulled out his books, and slammed the door. âWhere is he?â
Tony pointed down the hall to where a crowd of people had gathered near the bathrooms. Brandon knew he only had a few minutes before the bell rang, so he had to be quick.
âUh-oh,â Kevin whispered loudly as he saw Brandon approaching. âHere comes bad-luck Brandon now!â
Normally Brandon got along with Kevin just fine, but things were getting out of hand.
âReal cool, Kevin,â Brandon said, shaking his head. He saw a few of the people in the crowd laughing and smirking.
âSorry, Brandon,â Kevin said with a goofy grin. âIâm just telling the truth. Everyone wondered how we lost the game by so many points.â
âSo youâre blaming me for the loss?â Brandon said. âYou missed practically every pass that came your way. That wasnât much help.â
âYeah, but Iâm not the one who walked under the ladder,â Kevin said. âYou are.â
Brandon shook his head. He knew Kevin was superstitious, but this was nuts.
âMaybe your socks didnât stink enough for us to win,â Brandon said. He knew it wasnât the nicest thing to say, but he didnât care. He wasnât about to take all the blame for last nightâs loss.
âWe were doing fine this season until you pulled that dumb stunt,â Kevin told him. âMy good-luck socks had nothing to do with it.â
âDoing fine?â Brandon repeated. âWe lose two out of every three games!â
But no one seemed to care that he was right. Kevin shrugged and walked away. The crowd dispersed along with him. Apparently everyone was all too happy to blame Brandon.
Just then, the warning bell rang signaling that class was about to start. Great , Brandon thought as he turned and took off down the hall. First I get bad-mouthed, and now Iâm going to be late too.
As he approached the classroom door, the vice principalâs voice suddenly boomed down the hallway after him.
âYoung man!â Mr. Brent called. âIâm going to need you to come back here!â
âYou have to be kidding me,â Brandon said. He was less than three feet from his classroom door. But as everyone knew, Mr. Brent was a stickler for safety and hated running in the halls.
Brandon turned and smiled. âSorry, Mr. Brent,â he called. âI was running late.â
âThe late part isnât my problem,â Mr. Brent replied. âBut I could see you were running. Now that I have a problem with.â
Brandon knew he wasnât going to get off that easy. He turned and walked slowly back down the hall to where the vice principal stood waiting.
âThat, sir, is more like it,â Mr. Brent said. âNow, letâs see you walk to class properly.â
Brandon nodded. âOkay,â he said. âBut now Iâm definitely going to be late.â
Mr. Brent nodded. As he did, the bell rang, making Brandon officially tardy for biology class.
Brandon turned and walked to his classroom at a regular pace. He glanced over his shoulder at the halfway point to see if Mr. Brent was still watching. He was.
As he entered the classroom, his biology teacher raised her eyebrows at his tardiness and jotted something in her notebook.
Brandon mumbled an apology and took the only seat left at the front of the classroom. Great , he thought. More bad luck. Just what I need.
CHAPTER 3
PRACTICALLY PRACTICE
Brandonâs day didnât get any better as it went on. A cloud of bad luck seemed to hover over him. Heâd forgotten his lunch at home, he managed to lose his homework, and his shirt got snagged on his seat in math class and ripped. Worst of all, everyone looked at him like he was a walking curse.
By the end of the day, practicing for the Cloversâ final game was the last thing Brandon wanted to do. In the locker room, he plopped down on a
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