New Orleans. I had seen the road sign many times, and many times dreamt of following it. Now I was. In moments we were flying down the highway and Houma was falling farther and farther behind. I couldn't help but look back.
'Don't look back,' Annie Gray said quickly.
'What? Why not?'
'Bad luck,' she replied.
I spun around to face forward.
'What?'
'Bad luck. Quick, cross yourself three times,' she prescribed. I saw she was serious and so I did it.
'I don't need any more of that,' I said. That made her laugh. She leaned forward and picked up her cloth bag. Then she dug into it and came up with something to place in my hand. I stared at it.
'What's this?' I asked.
'Piece of neck bone from a black cat. It's gris-gris,' she said. Seeing I was still confused, she added, 'a magical charm to bring you good luck. My Grandmere gave it to me. Voodoo,' she added in a whisper.
'Oh. Well, I don't want to take your good luck piece,' I said, handing it back. She shook her head.
'Bad luck for me to take it back now and worse luck for you to give it,' she said. 'I got plenty more, honey. Don't worry about that. Go on,' she said, forcing me to wrap my fingers around the cat bone. 'Put it away, but carry it with you all the time.'
'Thank you,' I said, and slipped it into my bag.
'I bet these relatives of yours are excited about seeing you, huh?'
'No,' I said.
She tilted her head and smiled with confusion. 'No? Don't they know you're comin'?'
I looked at her for a moment and then I looked forward again, straightening myself up in the seat.
'No,' I said. 'They don't even know I exist,' I added.
The bus shot forward, its headlights slicking through the night, carrying me onward toward the future that awaited, a future just as dark and mysterious and as frightening as the unlit highway.
Book Two
10
An Unexpected Friend
Annie Gray was so excited about arriving in New Orleans during the Mardi Gras, she talked incessantly during the remainder of the trip. I sat with my knees together, my hands nervously twisting on my lap, but I was grateful for the conversation. Listening to her descriptions of previous Mardi Gras celebrations she had attended, I had little time to feel sorry for myself and worry about what would happen to me the moment I stepped off the bus. For the time being at least, I could ignore the troubled thoughts crowded into the darkest corners of my brain.
Annie came from New Iberia, but she had been to New Orleans at least a half-dozen times to visit her aunt, who she said was a cabaret singer in a famous nightclub in the French Quarter. Annie said she was going to live with her aunt in New Orleans from now on.
'I'm going to be a singer, too,' she bragged. 'My aunt is getting me my first audition in a nightclub on Bourbon Street. You know about the French Quarter, don'tcha, honey?' she asked.
'I know it's the oldest section of the city and there is a lot of music, and people have parties there all the time,' I told her.
'That's right, honey, and it has the best restaurants and many nice shops and loads and loads of antique and art galleries.'
'Art galleries?'
'Uh-huh.'
'Did you ever hear of Dominique's?'
She shrugged.
'I wouldn't know one from the other. Why?'
'I have some of my artwork displayed there,' I said proudly.
'Really? Well, ain't that somethin'? You're an artist.' She looked impressed. 'And you say you ain't ever been to
