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He closed his eyes and rubbed his thumb on the little rabbit foot. Please, please let something lucky happen today. Everyone watched wide-eyed as Nate unleashed a long, strong breath. Carried on that breath was 1) the wish that he'd have good luck just once in his life and 2) the knowledge that not only had his birthday wishes never come true, but the candles' flames had never gone out, no matter how hard he blew.But this time, on Nate Harlow's eleventh birthday on the eleventh of April, a wavy line of smoke replaced the dancing candle flame.