Jack Adrift by Jack Gantos

Buddha,” he said in a prayerful voice. “God of good fortune, bring on the luck!”
    â€œJack senior!” Mom said in a mock scolding voice. “Don’t be sacrilegious, especially since you haven’t been in a church all year.”
    This only got Dad going even more. He set the Buddha on the dining room table and knelt down on one knee. “O glorious and all-powerful Buddha,” he implored like old man Moses on the mountain, “look down on this poor birthday sailor and shower him with good fishing. For this, I beg.” He humbly lowered his head.
    We all laughed as if Dad’s act were a big joke. But deep inside I knew the Buddha was no joke. He was listening. And he would deliver.
    It wasn’t long before we had eaten our tuna melts and demolished the marlin-shaped cake. Once the paper plates and cups were tossed in the trash and the plastic forks washed, we all crossed the road and climbed over the dunes to watch Dad test out his fishing gear. We stood off to one side as he rigged the pole and got ready to cast. “One second!” I yelled. I had brought the Buddha. “Rub the belly,” I said, and held him out. Dad looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. We were alone. He quickly rubbed the belly, then swung his rod all the way back over his shoulder and shouted,
“Casting out!” and let it fly. The silver spinner arced into the air and the reel buzzed as the line unspooled. Finally we saw it hit with a splash. Dad grinned. “I love this!” he sang and did a little dance in the sand. “Love it!” Mom ventured over to his side and he gave her a hug and kiss.
    â€œSee,” I said to Betsy, “the Buddha is working already.”
    â€œAre you a moron?” she asked. “They’re married. Of course they hug and kiss. Buddha has nothing to do with anything. Dad might as well have rubbed his beer can.”
    But I was certain the Buddha was silently working his magic. I believed in his power. And I was right.
    That evening Julian’s dad had gotten the other Seabees together for a birthday poker game. “Just nickel-and-dime stuff,” Dad had promised after stepping into the kitchen for a cold one. Before Dad left for the game I held up the Buddha. “Rub the belly,” I said.
    He rubbed it. “Come on, Buddha,” he sang. “Bring lady luck home to Papa!”
    â€œBet big,” I advised him. “You can’t lose.”
    â€œSure,” he said. “I’ll put it all on the line.”
    Mom gave me a scolding look. I knew she feared that by tomorrow night we’d all be sleeping under the stars with just the clothes on our backs. He’d lost all his money before and she was worried he could do it again.
Betsy stared at me like Medusa trying to turn me into stone. “Don’t encourage him,” she growled.
    â€œWhat?” I said innocently, facing them. “What? You just wait. The Buddha will bring us luck. You’ll see.”
    â€œRight,” said Betsy. “And while you’re at it why don’t you go cut off the foot of a rabbit, catch a leprechaun, and sell your soul to the devil.”
    A couple of hours later Dad came home and emptied his pockets on the coffee table. There was more than a hundred dollars. “I couldn’t lose,” he said. “They ran out of money and we had to quit. Where’s my new Buddha buddy?”
    I had picked a spot of honor for the statue on top of the refrigerator where we could always use some luck. The way we kids were growing, there was a lot of competition for the food. Dad stood up and rubbed the Buddha’s belly.
    â€œKeep rubbing,” I encouraged. “Maybe you’ll get a promotion.”
    Dad smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “It would be great to give orders instead of taking them.”
    I knew exactly how he felt.
    Â 
    The next day Dad roared up to the house. He jumped