lasers and every other conceivable security device. Arthur had even called upon the Fearless Five to be on standby during the exhibit to apprehend any would-be thieves.
Then, of course, there was my other fear—I’d have a colossal bout of bad luck during the benefit and bring every single display tumbling down like dominoes. Even now, I felt the static gathering around me, ready to strike.
“Oh, nonsense, Bella. What’s the worst that could happen?” Arthur asked.
My hair began its daily climb upward. I just grimaced.
We didn’t finish installing the exhibition until almost midnight. We would have been done a lot sooner, but my power kept flaring up at the most inopportune times. Like when one of the heavy overhead light fixtures I was staring at decided to break free from the wall and plummet to the ground—missing my head by about six inches.
Or when we ordered dinner from Quicke’s. I’d taken the box of food from the delivery guy and started up the museum steps. I got all the way to the top before my power pulsed. The box exploded, and its contents slid through my hands, tumbling down the stairs like a Slinky. Every single one of the lids popped off the takeout containers. Salads, pasta, burgers, fries, sodas, milkshakes. It wasn’t pretty.
But on the bright side, as I was scrambling around trying to clean up the mess, a gust of wind blew by—and plastered a pair of hundred-dollar bills to my forehead. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I snagged the money before it could blow away again. The C-notes were more than enough to pay for another order of food from Quicke’s. I even got fifteen bucks back in change—until I managed to drop it down the subway vent outside the museum.
But my luck didn’t bother me too much. Well, no more than usual. I was just grateful nobody dropped or broke any of the exhibit pieces.
And I’d actually had another bit of good luck today, besides the money. No matter how hard the museum staff tried, they just couldn’t seem to hang Joanne’s hideous painting of Elvis. Something untoward happened every time they attempted it. One of the workers would lose his grip on the side of the painting and drop it. Or it would fall off the wall by itself. Or one of the strings anchoring it to the ceiling would snap. Finally, even Arthur gave up and put Elvis back in storage for safekeeping.
Now, after hours of work, everything was finally finished, which meant I could mostly relax tomorrow night. At least until the bachelor auction. As chairperson of the benefit and a somewhat noteworthy citizen, I’d put myself on the auction block at Abby’s insistence. According to her estimates and the fancy calculator she kept in one of her vest pockets, I should bring in a couple thousand dollars at least. I just hoped someone bid on me. It would be rather embarrassing to be passed over at my own event.
Abby and I said our goodnights to Arthur and the rest of the staff. Hannah had left hours ago, claiming she had an important business meeting. Grace and Joanne had called to tell me that everything was a go at Quicke’s, and they’d packed up shop too. Abby had stayed to the bitter end, although I’d had things more or less under control. But she was a perfectionist that way.
We stepped outside, and a cool, crisp, fall breeze kissed my face. I shivered and stuck my hands in my pockets, wishing I’d brought my wool pea coat.
“I’m heading for the subway. Want to walk together?” Abby offered.
“No, thanks,” I said. “My car’s right there.”
Abby frowned and looked at my car parked at the bottom of the museum steps. “How did you manage to snag that spot? There’s never any parking on this street during the day.”
“Oh, a car was pulling out right when I drove by.”
Despite my hatred of my supposed superpower, I could always find a parking space, no matter how crowded the street was. It was one of the few things I was consistently lucky at. Sometimes, I
Then, of course, there was my other fear—I’d have a colossal bout of bad luck during the benefit and bring every single display tumbling down like dominoes. Even now, I felt the static gathering around me, ready to strike.
“Oh, nonsense, Bella. What’s the worst that could happen?” Arthur asked.
My hair began its daily climb upward. I just grimaced.
We didn’t finish installing the exhibition until almost midnight. We would have been done a lot sooner, but my power kept flaring up at the most inopportune times. Like when one of the heavy overhead light fixtures I was staring at decided to break free from the wall and plummet to the ground—missing my head by about six inches.
Or when we ordered dinner from Quicke’s. I’d taken the box of food from the delivery guy and started up the museum steps. I got all the way to the top before my power pulsed. The box exploded, and its contents slid through my hands, tumbling down the stairs like a Slinky. Every single one of the lids popped off the takeout containers. Salads, pasta, burgers, fries, sodas, milkshakes. It wasn’t pretty.
But on the bright side, as I was scrambling around trying to clean up the mess, a gust of wind blew by—and plastered a pair of hundred-dollar bills to my forehead. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I snagged the money before it could blow away again. The C-notes were more than enough to pay for another order of food from Quicke’s. I even got fifteen bucks back in change—until I managed to drop it down the subway vent outside the museum.
But my luck didn’t bother me too much. Well, no more than usual. I was just grateful nobody dropped or broke any of the exhibit pieces.
And I’d actually had another bit of good luck today, besides the money. No matter how hard the museum staff tried, they just couldn’t seem to hang Joanne’s hideous painting of Elvis. Something untoward happened every time they attempted it. One of the workers would lose his grip on the side of the painting and drop it. Or it would fall off the wall by itself. Or one of the strings anchoring it to the ceiling would snap. Finally, even Arthur gave up and put Elvis back in storage for safekeeping.
Now, after hours of work, everything was finally finished, which meant I could mostly relax tomorrow night. At least until the bachelor auction. As chairperson of the benefit and a somewhat noteworthy citizen, I’d put myself on the auction block at Abby’s insistence. According to her estimates and the fancy calculator she kept in one of her vest pockets, I should bring in a couple thousand dollars at least. I just hoped someone bid on me. It would be rather embarrassing to be passed over at my own event.
Abby and I said our goodnights to Arthur and the rest of the staff. Hannah had left hours ago, claiming she had an important business meeting. Grace and Joanne had called to tell me that everything was a go at Quicke’s, and they’d packed up shop too. Abby had stayed to the bitter end, although I’d had things more or less under control. But she was a perfectionist that way.
We stepped outside, and a cool, crisp, fall breeze kissed my face. I shivered and stuck my hands in my pockets, wishing I’d brought my wool pea coat.
“I’m heading for the subway. Want to walk together?” Abby offered.
“No, thanks,” I said. “My car’s right there.”
Abby frowned and looked at my car parked at the bottom of the museum steps. “How did you manage to snag that spot? There’s never any parking on this street during the day.”
“Oh, a car was pulling out right when I drove by.”
Despite my hatred of my supposed superpower, I could always find a parking space, no matter how crowded the street was. It was one of the few things I was consistently lucky at. Sometimes, I
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