Page 1 of The Lucky One

I yearned to be one of those universally adored girls, whether it was day one, two or four since my last hair wash. Like the It Girl in movies—not the one who’s mean, but the lovely one with forever glossy locks and a kind heart, dedicating her days off to animal shelters. Sweet, shy and undeniably beautiful...

But that wasn’t my role. I had auditioned for it, forced myself into character and lost myself in the process. I acted as if it was only a matter of time before I could genuinely play the part. But the truth was painfully clear: I was never meant to have a happy ending like them.

I lay on the grass in the moonlight, my damp dress clinging to my skin. Despite my best efforts, I was all day-two greasy hair and imperfect teeth. My fantasy of a perfect existence had shattered, leaving fragments of dreams that felt like shards of glass beneath my fingertips.

I raised my hand toward the blinding moon, watched water drip down my wrist and onto my face. The smell of iron tinged the night air. Reddish daisies dotted the grass.

Then I realized it wasn’t water soaking my clothes. It was blood.

A ringing sensation echoed through my ears.

Puppe.

Babycakes.

Little One.

All the sweet, kind nicknames I had been called, all the people I had forced myself to be.

They were all dead... together with him.

Short Fuse

Emily

Three months before...

I pulled off my sweaty shirt and stuffed it into my backpack. No point in folding it when it would get washed anyway. Then I got his black sweatshirt out of my gym locker and slipped into it.

After what everyone referred to as the incidents, my schedule had been adjusted to include more mental health-focused classes. That meant Strength Training, plus counseling sessions every other day. My school in Germany didn’t care if I switched classes in the middle of the year—or that one of them was therapy. I would have to repeat the year anyway when I went back.

Going back...

The thought of it made my skin shiver. I closed my eyes, focusing on the skittering beat of my heart. Slow and controlled breathing, Emily. You still have time. June 16 is over three months away.

I scooped up my Converse and sat on the bench to put them on. I was the only one left in the locker room. My muscles were shaky, exhausted from today’s leg workout. Strength training was something my body was still adapting to. The soreness in my muscles and the burning in my lungs, I didn’t like it... but it wasn’t like I had a choice.

Eyes on the ground, I walked out of the gym the same way I had entered it on my first day a few weeks ago. People stared at me openly, knowing what I had done. I didn’t bother putting on a friendly face anymore. I didn’t need fake nice-to-meet-yous or promises to hang out. The only person I wanted to see was him—and I hadn’t seen him for over two months now.

Without him, the excitement vanished. Days fell into routines, and at night I lay sleepless with growing worry about what lay ahead—a feeling I had once fled from now caught up with me again.

I slipped on the wet asphalt, and just in time, broad hands grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Woah, watch where you step, German, or you’ll bang your head.”

Aiden: the only person I knew in Strength Training class. The sun blazed behind him as he grinned at me. The perfect sunny boy.

“Thanks.”

I smiled against the knot in my stomach. Aiden was one of the few people who didn’t treat me differently after finding out that I broke up with Paul for Jon. All the out-of-character things I had done—breaking down, high on drugs; going to jail. And now Jon was exiled in rehab in exchange for getting me out of there.

Students were smoking in a corner between a couple of dumpsters, passing each other small plastic bags. I could walk over there, make a quick purchase, fall into clouds of denial.

I clenched my teeth. I would not allow that stupid idea to take hold.

“I was heading in too, cariño.” Aiden offered me his arms to scoop into.

I looked at him sideways. Despite his goofy character, Aiden was a good catch. All the girls in Strength Training made sure he noticed their trained booties and their boobs pressed into way-too-tight sport shirts.

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