like next week.” Ivory reached under the counter to pull out a dog-eared book called
365 Days of Personal Horoscopes and Business Forecasts.
It was the kind of paperback you’d find for sale in drugstores next to the magazines or the breath mints. “You would be amazed at how often the predictions in here are right,” she told me as she licked her index finger and began searching for the page she wanted.
Laying out a row of cards, I didn’t bother to answer.
“According to the book, we’re going to see increasing sales next week, with some unpredictability toward the end of the week,” Ivory said, looking up from a page.
Right. The hat bathtub will probably sell out.
“I’m supposed to have more opportunities for creativity next week. And you”—she turned to another page—“are supposed to watch out for an unexpected surprise at the beginning of the week.”
“Does it say what the surprise is going to be?” I asked, knowing of course that it wouldn’t, because that’s the way horoscopes are written. To be vague on purpose. So if you found a dollar bill on the sidewalk, you might think that was the unexpected surprise. Or if an airplane crash-landed on your house, that would count, too.
“It just says watch out for an unexpected surprise.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks for warning me.”
Anybody but Ivory would have picked up on the sarcasm.
But Ivory just continued on in her own little zodiac world. “As a Leo, you need to watch being too impatient this week, too. And your ego can get in the way, if you’re not careful.” She looked up and caught my annoyed expression. “I’m just reading this for your own good, you know,” she insisted, arching her eyebrows.
I wondered what gave Ivory the idea that I needed to know any of this stuff for my own good. Why is it that certain people feel like it’s their job to point out what other people need?
Look at yourself in the mirror,
I wanted to say to Ivory.
You wear zebra hats, hang out with guys who wear dog collars, and believe in the stars and planets running your life. I’m not the one with the problems here.
Checking my watch for the tenth or eleventh time, I decided the hands had definitely stopped. It was only three-thirty and Viv’s Vintage stayed open until five-thirty for all of those last-minute shoppers who needed a pair of plaid pants or a nice powder-blue polyester suit. It was going to be a long afternoon.
19. Signs of the Zodiac
As it turned out, Ivory’s prediction did come true two days later—which is exactly how horoscopes can pull you into believing in them. After you hear one, you can’t keep the little zodiac voice in the back of your mind from whispering maybe the moon and stars do know all.
On Monday morning, the gym teacher took us outside to play baseball. Puddles of water from the downpour we’d had on Sunday still dotted the clay of the ball diamond, but the sky was totally clear and blue. The trees on the far edges of the school property were beginning to change color and the warm air smelled like fall. It made me feel kind of homesick for Boston and my friends.
We lined up on the grass to pick teams. I was picked fourth by a guy named Dave, who looked like he was probably part of the vending machine crowd. First, because he appointed himself the team captain and nobody disagreed, and second, because he wore a sports jersey with his last name plastered across the back.
Fourth wasn’t a bad spot to be, I decided. It was better than being picked last—or after a girl. Or a fat guy. Digger, the dog-collar guy, was in the class and he was picked last for the other team. In fact, he wasn’t even really picked—the teacher just divided up the last few people with a “you here” and “you over there” arm move. Since nobody knew me that well yet and we hadn’t played baseball before, being picked fourth wasn’t too bad. Maybe I looked like I had potential.
In the second inning, with our team losing by one run
365 Days of Personal Horoscopes and Business Forecasts.
It was the kind of paperback you’d find for sale in drugstores next to the magazines or the breath mints. “You would be amazed at how often the predictions in here are right,” she told me as she licked her index finger and began searching for the page she wanted.
Laying out a row of cards, I didn’t bother to answer.
“According to the book, we’re going to see increasing sales next week, with some unpredictability toward the end of the week,” Ivory said, looking up from a page.
Right. The hat bathtub will probably sell out.
“I’m supposed to have more opportunities for creativity next week. And you”—she turned to another page—“are supposed to watch out for an unexpected surprise at the beginning of the week.”
“Does it say what the surprise is going to be?” I asked, knowing of course that it wouldn’t, because that’s the way horoscopes are written. To be vague on purpose. So if you found a dollar bill on the sidewalk, you might think that was the unexpected surprise. Or if an airplane crash-landed on your house, that would count, too.
“It just says watch out for an unexpected surprise.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks for warning me.”
Anybody but Ivory would have picked up on the sarcasm.
But Ivory just continued on in her own little zodiac world. “As a Leo, you need to watch being too impatient this week, too. And your ego can get in the way, if you’re not careful.” She looked up and caught my annoyed expression. “I’m just reading this for your own good, you know,” she insisted, arching her eyebrows.
I wondered what gave Ivory the idea that I needed to know any of this stuff for my own good. Why is it that certain people feel like it’s their job to point out what other people need?
Look at yourself in the mirror,
I wanted to say to Ivory.
You wear zebra hats, hang out with guys who wear dog collars, and believe in the stars and planets running your life. I’m not the one with the problems here.
Checking my watch for the tenth or eleventh time, I decided the hands had definitely stopped. It was only three-thirty and Viv’s Vintage stayed open until five-thirty for all of those last-minute shoppers who needed a pair of plaid pants or a nice powder-blue polyester suit. It was going to be a long afternoon.
19. Signs of the Zodiac
As it turned out, Ivory’s prediction did come true two days later—which is exactly how horoscopes can pull you into believing in them. After you hear one, you can’t keep the little zodiac voice in the back of your mind from whispering maybe the moon and stars do know all.
On Monday morning, the gym teacher took us outside to play baseball. Puddles of water from the downpour we’d had on Sunday still dotted the clay of the ball diamond, but the sky was totally clear and blue. The trees on the far edges of the school property were beginning to change color and the warm air smelled like fall. It made me feel kind of homesick for Boston and my friends.
We lined up on the grass to pick teams. I was picked fourth by a guy named Dave, who looked like he was probably part of the vending machine crowd. First, because he appointed himself the team captain and nobody disagreed, and second, because he wore a sports jersey with his last name plastered across the back.
Fourth wasn’t a bad spot to be, I decided. It was better than being picked last—or after a girl. Or a fat guy. Digger, the dog-collar guy, was in the class and he was picked last for the other team. In fact, he wasn’t even really picked—the teacher just divided up the last few people with a “you here” and “you over there” arm move. Since nobody knew me that well yet and we hadn’t played baseball before, being picked fourth wasn’t too bad. Maybe I looked like I had potential.
In the second inning, with our team losing by one run
Similar Books
