Page 120 of The Lucky One

I turned to my solace, my little black book, and began to pour out my thoughts. If she didn’t want to be with me anymore, I would write to her.

Dear Little German,

I did something stupid.

Finals Week

Emily

Hushed concentration settled over the school cafeteria as everyone buried themselves in their notes in a last sprint to rescue their grades. In Germany, finals were usually spread over the last month, but here they all happened in the span of a week. Fortunately, my own grades were better than they ever were back home—despite my inconsistent focus—and I felt like I had learned way more. I even did well in Math.

I gave finals my best with the meager third of my brain that could focus. It had been a few days since I’d walked away from Jon. I could barely sleep or keep down my food—in short, I was a total mess. But I kept reminding myself that it was the right choice, no matter how much it hurt.

The English exam was a breeze. The only headache was comma rules, which are entirely different than German ones.

For US History, I surprised myself with how many answers I could pull out. I realized it wasn’t history I struggled with, but the bad teachers I used to have and the pressure of wanting to impress Richard. Apparently, the best way to impress someone is not trying too hard.

Now I was taking the Strength Training exam. I had completed the theoretical component, labeling every muscle in the body, and the practical test was underway. The teacher watched me press, hands on her hips. I needed to show improvement in my arm strength to boost my final grade.

“C’mon, German! Push!” Aiden yelled as I embarked on my last set of bench presses.

“I’m pushing!” I hollered back, beads of sweat bursting on my forehead as the bar trembled in my hands, threatening to descend upon me.

“You’ve got to push harder! You’re freaking strong, Emily! A damn exchange student! Leaving your home country! Nothing can bring you down!”

I pushed. My arms slowly straightened. And I managed to push the bar back up.

“Woo-hoo!” I jumped up triumphantly, leaping into Aiden’s arms even though we were both drenched in sweat. He twirled me around and we laughed and cheered.

“Next time, watch your language, Aiden,” our teacher said with a frown. “However...” She glanced down at her paper. “He loaded your bar with even more weight than I asked for,” she told me. “This gets you an A.”

I spun around to face Aiden. “What?! I thought you only added twenty pounds?!”

“I knew you had the strength for more, so I added forty.”

I nudged Aiden with my elbow as the teacher moved on to assess the next team. He winced, holding his arm, but this time he was being for real. “I need a week of rest after today.”

“Preach that,” I laughed, feeling the soreness in my own muscles—but not as exhausted as they were at the beginning of this class. Now, I felt energized.

We went for our usual post-workout chat at the water fountains. “You going to prom next week?” Aiden asked suddenly.

I looked down. “I’m not a senior and I don’t have a senior date, so no.”

It saddened me not to attend like everyone else, but I had accepted it. Missing prom wasn’t the end of the world. Even though the image of Jon and me dancing at prom had flashed through my daydreams for months...

“You wanna go with me, cariño?” Aiden said, shrugging.

My eyes widened. “You want to take me to prom?”

“The whole Fam will be there. I know a few girls who want to go with me, but I’d rather go with a close friend who’d miss out otherwise.”

I had to restrain myself from dissolving into tears right then and there. I jumped into his arms again. “Thank you, Aiden. You’re such a great friend.”

“If I ever want to come to Germany, you got a bed for me?”

I squeezed him tighter. “I’ll have an entire room for you.”

With that boost from Strength Training, I dived into my Culinary final with all I had. The kitchen echoed with the clattering of spoons, the rhythmic chopping of knives, and the sizzling of meat in pans. Even Danielle was too absorbed to crack a joke. The heat of so many stoves induced sweat on everyone’s foreheads, but I welcomed the stress. Chef Sayle gave the five-minute notice and we all ran back and forth, adding our final touches.

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