Page 143 of With a Little Luck

She laughs, but there’s a sad, mournful sound to it. “Andyou? Are you an anomaly, too?” She reaches for the wide linen collar of my shirt, her fingers traipsing across the fabric and sending goose bumps down my arms. “I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me since we were twelve years old,” she says quietly. “And here you are. And … you’re dressed like a pirate. Why apirate?”

My heart swells. “Since you weretwelve?”

“Since the very beginning,” she says emphatically. Then, confused, “I didn’t even know I had a thing for pirates.”

I lean closer, pressing my brow against hers. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long. It won’t happen again.”

“You say that now, but when I wake up …”

I grin. “I’m not going to be able to convince you that this is real, am I?”

“This isn’t real,” she whispers, her breath against my mouth. “It would be easier to convince me that magic is real.”

With my hands on her waist, I tug her closer. “Challenge accepted.”

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Epilogue

“How’s that?”

“More to the left.”

“No—to the right.”

“I liked it more to the left.”

“Yeah, there. That looks good.”

“No, down a little. No, too much. Half an inch. No, no …”

“There! Perfect!”

“Eh, from this angle it looks a little crooked.”

I groan. “I’m never hanging artwork by committee ever again.”

“There, there!” says Pru. “Perfect.”

When no one else objects, I affix the frame to the wall. I climb down the step stool, joining my parents, all four sisters, Quint, and Ari on the other side of the counter. I wrap my arm around Ari’s shoulders, and together, we admire our newest decoration.

London Townby Paul McCartney and Wings, signed and matted and framed and hung in a place of honor behind the register.

“Looks great,” says Pru. “Like Sir Paul is keeping watch over the place.”

My dad grins. “It does feel good to have it back.”

It’s only been a week since our midnight run-in with Sadashiv, but what a week it has been. Not only did Sadashiv’s assistant drop off the record first thing Monday morning, he also brought preliminary papers to start discussing the licensing rights to Ari’s songs. She has a meeting355with Sadashiv and some producers next month, and they’ve asked her to bring all her best songs for them to review, though it seems like Sadashiv is already determined to include “Downpour” on his next album.

On Tuesday, I submitted another piece of art to theDungeon. I haven’t heard back yet on whether or not it’s been accepted, but honestly? It doesn’t matter. Rejection never killed anyone, and if they don’t like this piece, I’ll just keep drawing and submitting more pieces. How else am I going to build up a portfolio to apply to art schools next fall?

On Wednesday … well, nothing really happened on Wednesday. Except that I got my grade back on theGreat Gatsbypaper—a B+—and only missed a few questions on our poli-sci test and heard from my art teacher that he really liked my figure sketches, though I could still use some work on my hands. (I mean, come on. Hands arehard.)

On Thursday, we finally received the shipment of exclusive Record Store Day merchandise, and while it was a little late, Pru was able to work her social media magic and bring in a hefty crowd that evening to get their special promo items.

Enough good things happened all week that there were times when I thought—maybe the magic is back. Maybe it found me again, even without the dice.

But then on Friday, Mrs. Andrews caught me texting with Ari in class and confiscated my phone for the rest of the day and I missed out on a surprise flash sale on my favorite D&D merch site. When Maya and the others told me about their amazing scores and felt awful that I missed out, I just laughed, thinking about what the fortune teller said.

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