The thing is,my luck's always been ruineD. Just look at my name: Jean.Not Jean Marie,or Jeanine,or Jeanette,or even Jeanne.Just Jean.Did you know in France,they name boys Jean? It's French for John.And okay,I don't live in France.But still,I'm basically a girl named John.If I lived in France,anyway. This is the kind of luck I've had since before Mom even filled out my birth certificate.So it wasn't any big surprise to me when the cab driver didn't help me with my suitcase.I'd already had to tolerate arriving at the airport to find no one there to greet me,and then got no answer to my many phone calls,asking where my aunt and uncle were.Did they not want me after all? Had they changed their minds? Had they heard about my bad luck--all the way from Iowa--and decided they didn't want any of it to _ them? So when the cab driver,instead of getting out and helping me with my bags,just pushed a little button so that the trunk   popped open a few inches,it wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to me.It wasn't even the worst thing that had happened to me that day. According to my mom,most brownstones in New York City were originally single-family homes when they were built way back in the 1800s.But now they've been divided up into apartments,so that there's one--or sometimes even two or more families--per floor. Not Mom's sister Evelyn's brownstone,though.Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Ted Gardiner own all four floors of their brownstone.That's practically one floor per person,since Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Ted only have three kids,my cousins Tory,Teddy,and Alice. Back home,we just have two floors,but there are seven people living on them.And only one bathroom.Not that I'm complaining.Still,ever since my sister Courtney discovered blow-outs,it's been pretty frightful at home. But as tall as my aunt and uncle's house was,it was really narrow--just three windows across.Still,it was a very pretty townhouse,painted gray.The door was a bright,cheerful yellow.There were yellow flower boxes along the base of each window,flower boxes from which bright red--and obviously newly planted,since it was only the middle of April,and not quite warm enough for them. It was nice to know that,even in a sophisticated   city like New York,people still realized how homey and welcoming a box of flowers could be.The sight of those flowers cheered me up a little. Like maybe Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Ted just forgot I was arriving today,and hadn't deliberately failed to meet me at the airport because they'd changed their minds about letting me come to stay. Like everything was going to be all right,after all. Yeah.With my luck,probably not. I started up the steps to the front door of 326 East Sixty-Ninth Street,then realized I couldn't make it with both bags and my violin.Leaving one bag on the sidewalk,I dragged the other up the steps with me.Maybe I took the steps a little too fast,since I nearly tripped and fell flat on my face on the sidewalk.I managed to catch myself at the last moment by grabbing some of the fence the gardeners had put up... According to the author,some facts account for her bad luck EXCEPT that   _  .
she was given a boy's name in French the cab driver didn't help her with her bags her sister Courtney discovered blow-outs nobody had come to meet her at the airport