Out of Luck

Debby Larsen surveyed her realm, the cafeteria of Williamston Junior High, which also served as the school’s gymnasium. At either end of the long room a basketball hoop and backboard hung beneath banners that encouraged, “Go, Hornets, Go!” and “Just Say No To Drugs.” Posters for the school play flanked the small stage on one side, while bleachers took up the length of the opposite wall. This is where the Mid-State Regional Science Fair happened every March, and where, every November, curtained partitions hid citizens as they voted for school board members, district court judges, and sometimes, for presidents of the United States.

As far as Debby Larsen was concerned, every Thursday it served its highest purpose. Thursday night was Bingo Night, this was the Bingo Hall, and she was Bingo Queen.

The crown was presented to the player with the highest average wins over a given period. Debby had won her crown, made of folded and stapled Bingo cards, nearly a year ago. She liked her title and fought hard to keep it. She liked the special attention it brought her, and she especially liked that her position provided her two free cards to play each night, for as long as she kept the crown. The downside was the inevitable jealousy it aroused in other, less fortunate players. For example, Nancy Thornton, who used to be her friend, now seemed to go out of her way to avoid her, and she often felt--even if she didn’t hear--that her name was being whispered in a negative way in the aisles of the A & P.

Debby always arrived an hour early. She felt it gave her an edge over the other players. Her nephew, Luke, said it was part of the “psych-out” for the other players to enter and find her already ensconced in the center of the room, wearing her crown and surrounded by her talismans. Of course, her Beanie Babies were lined up at the back, showcasing her special “Princess Di” purple bear. Then there were her lucky elephants, all seven of them with their trunks lifted in triumphant salute. Her horseshoes, her rabbits’ feet, lucky coins, and her shamrocks were set out in a circle around her obligatory troll doll. Debby’s had pink hair and wore a tiny “I (heart) BINGO” t-shirt.

All of these were powerful lucky charms that she took pride in displaying, but the luckiest one she kept hidden in her pocket or in her sleeve. No one could know about the Bingo Bug.

As with most of her talismans of fortune, she found it on a table at a garage sale. It was inside a Christmas cookie tin amid cheap junk jewelry and ornaments. She thought it looked exotic, all covered with hieroglyphs. She thought it might be real old and made of ivory but it turned out to be only plastic and made in China. Still, it called to her and she bought it and she had never been sorry.

Others sought talismans in dime stores and in truck-stop gift shops. Lucky cat statues with their waving right arms, fishes of fortune and frogs with coins in their mouths could be found for sale near the cash register of any Chinese buffet. They were mass-produced things. How could they be special? Her Bingo Bug (a representation of a scarab beetle, she later learned) had been mass-produced as well, but that’s why she preferred her method of collecting luck. Perhaps because these things had once belonged to someone else, some of that person’s mojo had rubbed off on the objects. For whatever reason, the charms that Debby found at yard sales called out to her. The bug had practically sung to her, “Buy me!”

The rest of the players slowly drifted into the room, buying their cards at the door, then claiming their special seats and setting up their own lucky shrines. All of them had rituals. They lined up their charms and cards in a certain order, used different-colored ink daubers in a certain order, patted or kissed their lucky trolls, frogs, and dolls in a certain order. Most appeared readying themselves for war rather than for an evening of light entertainment and the chance to win a few dollars or a few hundred.

About fifteen minutes before the start of the first game the coffee was ready, so Debby always bought a cup. Then she’d walk around the long tables, stopping to admire a new purse or hair color or earrings. That’s when she palmed the Bug. If no one was looking, she’d quickly touch her rivals’ talismans, a definite taboo, and if she couldn’t do that, she would at least touch the Bug to the tabletop. She did this to steal mojo.

She knew she was stealing mojo. The Bug actually grew heavier after a game where Debby had made the rounds. She had proved that to herself, weighing it on her Weight Watcher’s food scale. She could feel the luck draining from the other objects and into the Bug because its warmth ran up her arm. It made her feel a bit dizzy at times, especially when she managed to empty a particularly powerful charm, like René Fedyna’s glass unicorn.

René had been the former Bingo Queen until her luck had mysteriously dried up. It was not a surprise to Debby, who had felt the Bug burning so hot after it had touched the unicorn’s horn that she had been afraid she might drop it.

What happened to René next was a shame. She lost her crown and nearly lost her mind, frantically playing ten cards at a time until her husband, George, put his foot down and forbade her from playing anymore.

Debby made her way between the rows of tables, sipping her coffee and making small talk, running her fingertips along the table edge, being alert at all times for mojo-stealing opportunities. She came near Nancy Thornton’s seat.

“Nancy, how are you?” she said, brightly.

“Fine,” said Nancy.

“Oh, is this new?” She pointed to a plastic Buddha.

“Don’t touch him,” said Nancy, a shade of menace in her voice. “Don’t touch any of my things.”

Debby stepped back. “My goodness, what’s gotten into you?”

Nancy leaned forward; her eyes dark. “I know what you did to René.”

Debby tried not to allow her true reaction to show on her face. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Nancy pulled something up from her lap, just far enough for Debby to see that it was a rubber monkey on a chain. Perhaps something to be hung on the rear-view mirror stem of a pick-up truck. “Watch out!” said Nancy. “I’ve got my Mojo Monkey!”

This might have been something that Debby could laugh off, and in fact she did laugh, but at the same time she could feel the Bug growing lighter in her hand. “Well,” she said, curtly. “Good luck to you.” She moved as quickly as she could back to her seat where she touched, kissed, and patted every one of her charms.

The first game was a close one. All Debby needed was G-57. When a player is one number short of a win it is customary to stand and alert the caller of an imminent Bingo. Debby stood. Across the room she saw Nancy stand, too. She gritted her teeth as the caller said, “B-6!” then “N-36!” Another player stood up. Debby felt a bit panicky, a sensation she had not suffered for as long as she had worn the crown.

“G-57!”

“Bingo!” cried Debby. Feeling weak in the knees, she sat down and vigorously rubbed the Bingo Bug in her pocket. Across the room, Nancy Thornton glared at her.

Debby felt her face flush and tried to remember what Luke had said about the art of the psych-out. “Don’t ever let ‘em see you sweat, Aunt Debby!” So, she knew she had to act nonchalant. To be cool. She decided to get another cup of coffee.

At the coffee table she bought a packet of Oreos and a large, black coffee. When she turned around, she was surprised to see René Fedyna there.

“René! How nice to see you! Has George let you come back to Bingo Night?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” said René.

“How terrible for you. I know how much you must miss the game.”

“I wore that crown, once,” said René.

“I know.”

“I lost it to you.”

“Yes. But that’s the game, isn’t it?”

René cocked her head. “I’m not sure. Is that the game? Or is there another game?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” said Debby, and she pushed her way through the small group of players to return to her seat as quickly as possible, bumping into people right and left. Something in René’s eyes had been downright scary.

The next game began almost immediately. Once again, both Debby and Nancy were standing. The magic call was O-72. Debby repeated her mantra, “Don’t ever let ‘em see you sweat,” and turned to smile at Nancy but her smile froze on her lips. Nancy was holding something in her hand for Debby to see. She held the Bingo Bug.

Frantically Debby patted at her pockets. That bitch! Nancy must have taken it when she was distracted, speaking to René at the coffee table!

The caller yelled, “I-25!” and “G-69!” and “B-11!”

René Fedyna yelled, “Bingo!”

Where had that come from? How could it have happened? Debby glanced at Nancy and watched with interest as the smug smile on her once-friend’s face faded. Nancy began to search her pockets with the same panic as Debby had just done.

They both looked at René, who sat smiling amid her collection of Beanies and trolls and elephants and frogs and a unicorn, and a rubber monkey on a chain.