"Johnny, I was thinking that this year, for your 15th birthday, we should go see that new Broadway show, 'Les Miserables'." Uncle Eric suggested.
With that, Johnny broke into a cold sweat. "No way, man. I can't go back there, not during winter."
"Johnny, it's been two years. You've got to get over your parents' deaths."
"They died on my 13th birthday, which happens to be the 13th of December." Johnny said, emphasizing the two numbers, having become extremely superstitious over the past two years.
"Johnny, thirteen is just a number, that's all. Breaking a mirror won't give you seven years of bad luck, if you meet a black cat, you won't die, and so on."
"What about uncle Tom?"
"Uncle Tom's death was an accident."
Tom Trent was a builder. One day last year, while helping build a house, he walked under a ladder, only to have a full can of paint fall right on his head, killing him instantly. Johnny had even seen it personally. Come to think of it, every death he had witnessed since that night seemed to have been caused by what could have been considered an omen, only deepening his depression further.
"Whatever."
"If you're gonna be like that, fine. Be that way, mope around, just don't do it here!"
"Are you kicking me out?"
"Unless you change your tune."
"Fine." He said, a fake smile on his face.
Later that night, Johnny phoned Dwayne.
"Hello?"
"Dwayne, it's Johnny."
"What up, dawg?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted to start a band with me doing lead vocals."
"Put me on the guitar and you're on. What you gonna call it?"
Johnny milled his uncle's words over in his head. "How about 'Johnny 13 and the Unluckies'?"
"I like it. It has a kind of Motown feel to it."
Finally things were looking up for Johnny Trent or, should I say Johnny 13?