Page 21 of With a Little Luck

A maiden turned to stone, a curse that can only be broken by someone deemed worthy. And for that adventurer who succeeds in breaking the spell? A gift. A spell that gives you uncanny good luck with every roll of the dice.

These things that have been happening to me. All these strange, happy coincidences. This isn’t the Force. This isn’t the universe. This isn’t a series of statistical anomalies.

This is the magic of Lundyn Toune.

My breaths are coming in quick gasps, but … this is nuts. Am I actually considering the possibility that this might be …? That the dice could be giving me …?

That my life might actually have been touched by …

Magic?

I mean, I want to believe in sorcery and unicorns as much as the next guy, but … I don’t actually believe in those things. I don’t believe inthis.

But then—where did this dice come from? And now that I’m thinking about it, things did start to get weird as soon as I found it. Weird in a good way. The Paul McCartney signature and how I miraculously saved it from that coffee tumbler, when my real-life dexterity score would usually be pretty dismal. Then I had all those lucky guesses on the literature quiz, and the vending machine score, not to mention the outrageous improbability of flipping heads fifty-seven times in a row.

The timer goes off, startling me. I glance over in time to see the water59foaming up, and manage to pull the pot off the burner seconds before it boils over. I feel dazed as I go through the motions of getting out a colander and draining the pasta. Throwing it back into the pot and adding the sauce. Getting out bowls and forks.

I don’t call my sisters yet, just stand there, the wooden spoon in one hand and the dice in the other. Thinking about lost temples and magic and luck.

The gold rune-like numbers glint up at me.

“If this is real,” I whisper, “give me a sign.”

Taking in a deep breath, I roll the dice.

There’s the familiar, comforting sound as it clatters across the counter, hits one of the bowls, and bounces right off the edge. I jump back as it lands on the floor and rolls past my feet, disappearing beneath one of the breakfast nook benches.

I ponder the spot where it vanished. Legitimately surprised at first. I actually thought for a second that would work. I don’t know what I expected, but …somethingcool. Something lucky.

So much for magic.

Vowing to never mention this to anyone, I crouch and stick my hand under the bench, feeling around for the dice. My hand lands on something long and narrow instead, and I pull out a mechanical pencil. I sigh and reach back under, this time finding the dice. I slide it out into the light, my eye catching on the number twenty shining on top.

“Cute,” I say, grabbing the dice and the pencil and standing up.

Only then do I recognize it. The mechanical pencil. Dark blue and dusty. My lips part as I pluck the strands of a dust bunny off its eraser.

It isn’t just any pencil. It’s myfavoritepencil, that I used to draw with all the time until I lost it. It’s been missing for years, and now—here it is.

I turn my attention back to the dice, full of wonder. That twenty shimmers, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think the dice just winked at me.

60

Chapter Seven

“Flip a coin for it!” yells Ellie, her mouth full of Eggo waffle.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” says Lucy. Followed by, “Heads.”

She and I are standing at the kitchen counter, the last package of Pop-Tarts between us.

“Let’s just each take one,” I suggest.

But Ellie has already grabbed her coin. She flips it as well as she can, but misses the catch. The coin falls to the floor and rolls beneath the table. Ellie dives after it.

“Tails!” she calls out, reappearing on her hands and knees, coin in hand.

Lucy huffs.

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