Page 97 of With a Little Luck

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I check my emails first thing every morning, just to see if any of my hard work has paid off yet. (Don’t think it was hard work? You try proving you’re not a robot by picking the crosswalks out of eighty-seven square grids, and then come talk to me.)

My heart leaps when I open my inbox on Friday.So many emails!But after a quick scan, I realize that none of them are proclaiming me as the winner of anything. They’re just proclaiming that every one of those sweepstakes I entered also put my email address onto a mailing list. I’ve never seen so much spam.

New gear on sale! Lowest prices of the year!

Refer your bandmates for bonus points!

Is your outdated recording software holding you back?

We can make your song go viral!

Sign up for our new songwriting course!249

Get your album produced FAST! Overnight shipping available!

Live music is trending in your area! See this week’s hottest shows!

Can’t read sheet music? We can help!

Bargain prices on our hottest selling accessories! Don’t miss out!!!

I bend over my desk, rubbing both hands into my hair. Maybe the whole sweepstakes idea was a long shot. Maybe I’m not going to be able to rely on luck this time around. Maybe I need a new tactic.

Just because I can’t win something, doesn’t mean I can’tbuyher something. Maybe one of those sales mentioned in my abundance of spam emails will give me an idea for a good Ari gift? A new tuner? A case? A guitar humidifier?What is a guitar humidifier?

You know what? Let’s hold off on the gift idea until I’ve done more reconnaissance. I could also keep things simple. With … like, flowers.

Ari, I know for a fact, loves daisies.

But what would I say if I sent her flowers?

Saw these and thought of you! That’s all. Nothing to see here. As you were.

That friends-to-lovers trope really worked out in thatYesterdaymovie that you and Pru love so much. Let’s discuss.

Roses are red, violets are blue, these are not roses or violets, but I know you like daisies, and I like you!

Lucy might have been right about my beat poet potential …

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter what I would say in the card, because250when I go to look up the prices for a bouquet of daisies, no daisies are available. Because there’s anational shortage of daisies.

The Curse of Lundyn Toune has officially gone nationwide.

Groaning, I tilt back in my chair and cover my face with both hands. Think, Jude.Think.

I do think. For a solid ten minutes, Ithink. But I’m not getting anywhere.

I need to clear my head. I’m definitely not in the mood to draw anything, as I haven’t heard back from theDungeon. I’m tempted to play video games or zone out in front of the TV for a while, but I’m still behind in most of my classes.

I try readingGatsby, but that just makes me wonder which of us is more clueless—Gatsby or me? I put it down after only a couple of pages.

The statistics homework is full of words likebivariateandregressionandcoefficientsand—crap, I’m going to need Pru’s help with this, but she’s out with Quint tonight.

At least I can get started on the next visual arts assignment. Mr. Cross sent us each home with a lump of air-dry clay and we’re supposed to use it to practice sculpting.

I knead the clay until my knuckles ache, but it feels good, actually, pouring my emotions into something like this. My palms are already rusty red by the time I form the lump into something resembling a flower.

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