Novalee Nation, seventeen, seven months pregnant, thirty-seven pounds overweight—and superstitious about sevens—shifted uncomfortably in the seat of the old Plymouth and ran her hands down the curve of her belly.
For most people, sevens were lucky. But not for her. She’d had a bad history with them, starting with her seventh birthday, the day Mama Nell ran away with a baseball umpire named Fred. Then, when Novalee was in the seventh grade, Ronda Thalley, stole an ice cream truck for her boyfriend and sent to the Tennessee State School for Girls in Tullahoma.
By then, Novalee knew there was something screwy about sevens, so she tried to stay clear of them. But sometimes, she thought, you just can’t see things coming at you.
And that’s how she got stabbed. She just didn’t see it coming.
It happened right after she dropped out of school and started waiting tables at Red’s, a job that didn’t have anything to do with sevens.
