hunk of my hair. My wrist is bleeding. I mean seriously, those birds wanted to kill me.
What did I do wrong? This is so completely unfair. I need to find Mouse and Finn. We need to get out of here. Weren’t they supposed to meet me? It’s just like Mouse to wander off. She probably saw some sign she wanted to read.
All I see is a pile of feathers and popcorn on the narrow alley. There aren’t a lot of people, unless you count the shop owners. A man wearing the midnight blue uniform is maneuvering a trash can on wheels over to the feathers and popcorn. He sweeps it all into neat piles.
The popcorn reminds me of Maddy. She loves popcorn. She probably insisted Ariana have it at her party. Ariana’s party must be over now. They had it without me.
I wave to the guy. “Hello, um, sir!”
“Bonjour,” he says.
Oh great, he’s French. How do I say I need help in French? I’m supposed to know this. “J’ai assist,” I say.
He hands me a broom.
Terrific . . . I just asked him if I could help him.
Then I spot Mickey walking toward me. “India.” His face is full of concern. “What happened?”
He’s a scummy guy. He probably caused the bird strike. That’s what Dean said. I trust Dean, right?
“India,” Mickey calls again in his singsong voice with his black greasy hair, his yellow teeth, his motorcycle black eyes, and his pointy beard. I glance over at him—his eyes are mesmerizing. I can’t look away.
“I have something to tell you,” Mickey reports, beckoning in slow mo. “It’s urgent.”
I get right in his face and shout. “I want my money back! And call your stupid birds off.”
“What are you talking about? What birds?”
“The birds that attacked me.”
“Our birds aren’t vicious. Who told you that?” he asks.
“Somebody I trust,” I say. “I want my money back.”
“Oh no!” His mouth freezes in a perfect O. “You didn’t let them mislead you. You still have your ticket?”
“Void—void where prohibited. That’s what the fine print said. You lied!” An alarm goes off inside my head telling me not to get into this with him, but I can’t help myself. People shouldn’t get away with cheating you. How dare he!
“Oh.” He shakes his head and his eyes well up with tears. “You didn’t believe him, did you? Not my beautiful India.” The beady eyes of the crow perched on his shoulder are fixated on me.
Why didn’t I see what a grease ball he is? I know why . . . it’s because of his eyes. They are large, deep, singer-songwriter eyes.
Mickey shakes his head, clucking sadly. “They always try that. They don’t want you to have a second chance.”
“Second chance,” chirps the white parrot perched on a nearby rooftop.
“But why not?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“They’ve got their policies and procedures and they don’t like when a person”—his pointer fingers move all around, like fingers gone haywire—“messes with the system, but you know the truth, India.”
I hate that this makes sense.
He leans forward hopefully. “You still have your ticket?”
I shake my head.
“No? It’s gone. Ohhhhhh . . .” He lets the sound trail off. “Okay, okay. Let me think about this. Maybe old Mickey can help.” He taps his temple then winks at me. “Old Mickey has a trick or two up his sleeve. It has worked before.”
If he helps me, I won’t have to tell Finn and Mouse I got gypped out of our fifty dollars. If they find that out, they’ll tell my mom. She’ll have more proof of how stupid I am.
“Maybe I could give you a duplicate.” He dangles a new ticket in front of me, smiling. “This is deed to ownership. For just half price.”
More money? That’s what he wants? Isn’t that what the guy on the phone told my mom? The one who said he could make sure they didn’t foreclose on our house? Throwing good money after bad, my mom said, but she did it anyway.
I back up, slamming into a white board advertising the special deals.
His
What did I do wrong? This is so completely unfair. I need to find Mouse and Finn. We need to get out of here. Weren’t they supposed to meet me? It’s just like Mouse to wander off. She probably saw some sign she wanted to read.
All I see is a pile of feathers and popcorn on the narrow alley. There aren’t a lot of people, unless you count the shop owners. A man wearing the midnight blue uniform is maneuvering a trash can on wheels over to the feathers and popcorn. He sweeps it all into neat piles.
The popcorn reminds me of Maddy. She loves popcorn. She probably insisted Ariana have it at her party. Ariana’s party must be over now. They had it without me.
I wave to the guy. “Hello, um, sir!”
“Bonjour,” he says.
Oh great, he’s French. How do I say I need help in French? I’m supposed to know this. “J’ai assist,” I say.
He hands me a broom.
Terrific . . . I just asked him if I could help him.
Then I spot Mickey walking toward me. “India.” His face is full of concern. “What happened?”
He’s a scummy guy. He probably caused the bird strike. That’s what Dean said. I trust Dean, right?
“India,” Mickey calls again in his singsong voice with his black greasy hair, his yellow teeth, his motorcycle black eyes, and his pointy beard. I glance over at him—his eyes are mesmerizing. I can’t look away.
“I have something to tell you,” Mickey reports, beckoning in slow mo. “It’s urgent.”
I get right in his face and shout. “I want my money back! And call your stupid birds off.”
“What are you talking about? What birds?”
“The birds that attacked me.”
“Our birds aren’t vicious. Who told you that?” he asks.
“Somebody I trust,” I say. “I want my money back.”
“Oh no!” His mouth freezes in a perfect O. “You didn’t let them mislead you. You still have your ticket?”
“Void—void where prohibited. That’s what the fine print said. You lied!” An alarm goes off inside my head telling me not to get into this with him, but I can’t help myself. People shouldn’t get away with cheating you. How dare he!
“Oh.” He shakes his head and his eyes well up with tears. “You didn’t believe him, did you? Not my beautiful India.” The beady eyes of the crow perched on his shoulder are fixated on me.
Why didn’t I see what a grease ball he is? I know why . . . it’s because of his eyes. They are large, deep, singer-songwriter eyes.
Mickey shakes his head, clucking sadly. “They always try that. They don’t want you to have a second chance.”
“Second chance,” chirps the white parrot perched on a nearby rooftop.
“But why not?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“They’ve got their policies and procedures and they don’t like when a person”—his pointer fingers move all around, like fingers gone haywire—“messes with the system, but you know the truth, India.”
I hate that this makes sense.
He leans forward hopefully. “You still have your ticket?”
I shake my head.
“No? It’s gone. Ohhhhhh . . .” He lets the sound trail off. “Okay, okay. Let me think about this. Maybe old Mickey can help.” He taps his temple then winks at me. “Old Mickey has a trick or two up his sleeve. It has worked before.”
If he helps me, I won’t have to tell Finn and Mouse I got gypped out of our fifty dollars. If they find that out, they’ll tell my mom. She’ll have more proof of how stupid I am.
“Maybe I could give you a duplicate.” He dangles a new ticket in front of me, smiling. “This is deed to ownership. For just half price.”
More money? That’s what he wants? Isn’t that what the guy on the phone told my mom? The one who said he could make sure they didn’t foreclose on our house? Throwing good money after bad, my mom said, but she did it anyway.
I back up, slamming into a white board advertising the special deals.
His
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