Page 12 of With a Little Luck

I slump back in my seat. “I’ve been conned by a five-year-old.”

Ellie’s arms slither around the seat, hugging me from behind. I pat her on the wrist.29

“Have a good day, Els. Mom or Dad will pick you up.”

Lucy opens the door and Ellie scrambles out. As Pru pulls back onto the street, I open Ari’s text. I click the link to the art submission form and fill it out, trying not to think too hard. Then I open my photos and scan through the art I’ve saved over the last few months, mostly things I posted to the forum I share with my Dungeons & Dragons group. I can’t look at any of these drawings without criticism invading my thoughts. This arm placement is weird. The eyes didn’t turn out right. No one’s neck is that skinny. Why are hands so difficult?

I pick one before my doubts turn into nausea.

It’s classic fantasy meets the real world. A group of adventurers—elves and warlocks decked out in cloaks and weaponry—stand battle-ready at the entrance to a chaotic high school cafeteria, where paper airplanes are zooming overhead, drama kids are practicing monologues on the tables, a food fight has broken out among the jocks, and lunch ladies are serving up mystery meat at the counter. The caption reads:One does not simply walk into a high school cafeteria, a play on the classic Mordor line fromLord of the Rings.

Is it funny? Is it good? I have no idea.

Attach.

Send.

Breathe.

“There.” I hold up the screen so Pru can see theThank you for your submissionpage. “Done.” Then I take a screenshot and text it to Ari.

She responds almost immediately—a reaction image of Minions cheering.

It very slightly alleviates the momentary panic that strikes when I realize what I just did. I sent my art out into the world. To a real publication. To theDungeon.

What if they hate it?

I swallow hard and shove my phone into my pocket. “Not that it matters. They won’t take it.”

To which Pru replies, in a singsong voice, “I guess we’ll see.”

30

Chapter Four

Five minutes later, we drop Penny off at the middle school,then drive around the corner to pull into the parking lot of Fortuna Beach High. Lucy is out of the van before Pru has yanked up the emergency brake, hurrying to meet up with her friends, who always hang out under a giant sycamore tree before school starts.

Pru and I head into the central courtyard. Quint and Ezra are loitering on a bench near the main office. This is something else that changed when Pru and Quint started dating. Pru and I used to make a beeline for the school library during downtime, where I could read or draw in peace and she could work on extra credit projects or whatever random thing had caught her single-minded focus that week. She used to treat the library like her own private office. One time I even heard her shush the librarian.

It’s not that we don’t have other friends. I have my D&D group—César, Matt, and Russell, plus Kyle, who joined up in the fall—but we almost never hang out before or after school. Plus there’s Noah, Matt’s cousin, who’s a senior at Orange Bay Academy of Science and Mathematics, a.k.a. the school where the smart, techy kids go.

We also have Ari, of course, but she goes to St. Agnes, a prestigious private school.

So for a long time it was just sort of me and Pru. Not lonely, not alone, but not exactly social butterflies, either.

But with Quint in the picture, Pru was naturally drawn into the Fortuna31Beach social sphere, in which Ezra Kent is an unavoidable fixture. He was a bit of a package deal with Quint, I guess just like Ari and I were a package deal with Pru. Quint and Ezra have been best friends since, like, preschool or something, and while I have nothing against Ezra, per se, he is loud and unfiltered and the sort of guy who loves to be the center of attention. In essence, he is my opposite in every way.

“Yo, Pru the Foo and Jude the Dude!” Ezra calls when Pru and I are still halfway across the commons.

I grimace. “He really needs to come up with new nicknames.”

“I’ve told him so a thousand times,” Pru mutters back. “He does not seem to be open to constructive feedback.”

We reach them, and Quint puts an arm around Pru, giving her a quick kiss.

I look the other way … and my gaze lands onher.

I stand straighter, my palms growing hot. Maya Livingstone is making her way across the commons. She’s got her denim bookbag slung over one shoulder, the front flap decorated with a rainbow love islove patch next to the iconicHamiltonstar, plus a bunch of K-pop pins. (I know that Jimin is her bias … though I’m not entirely sure what that means.) Her hair is down today, thick black curls bouncing with every step. Jeans faded at the knees. Flip-flops. A purple zip-up hoodie. The morning sunshine lights up a smattering of freckles on her dark skin in a way that makes my mouth go dry.

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