Page 123 of With a Little Luck

“Its inaugural play,” he says, lowering the needle. “I think we can officially call this mynewlucky album.”

I know he means well, but the reminder of the lostLondon Townrecord makes me cringe with renewed guilt.312

I can’t manage to look at Ari, who is signing the records as fast as people can buy them. Her voice starts to play through the speakers, the first verse of “Sea Glass,” one of her earlier songs that was always one of my favorites.

“This is so surreal,” Ari says loudly, amazement and joy mingling in her voice.

And it’s great, for that moment. People are loving Ari and they’re loving Ventures Vinyl and my dad’s smile is as big as I’ve ever seen it and complete strangers are going up to Ari’s family and saying how proud they must be and Ari is glowing from all the attention and it’s good, this thing I did. It’s really good. I don’t know if it said what I hoped it would say, but it doesn’t matter. I helped the store and I made one of Ari’s dreams come true and for now, that’s enough.

And then …

And then.

“Uh-oh,” says the woman who is opening her wallet to pay for Ari’s record and a handful of others.

It takes a moment for me to hear it, too.

My whole body freezes.

No.

There’s a skip in the record. Ari’s angelic voice stuck on a jagged loop, repeating the same line over and over and over and over and over—

But … but it’sbrand-new.

Dad stops the record. “That’s a shame,” he says, inspecting the dark grooves. He uses a special brush to make sure there isn’t any dust trapped on the vinyl, then starts to play it again.

The skip is still there.

This can’t be happening.

“A fluke, I’m sure,” says Dad, taking the record off the turntable and replacing it with another one of Ari’s. Another record, straight from the sleeve. “It happens sometimes in the pressing process.”

He starts to play it again, but I know,I knowit wasn’t a fluke. I can feel it in my soul.313

It skips again, in the exact same spot, and that confirms it.

Bile rises in my mouth as I look at the box of unsold records. People in line are frowning, uncertain. Some who have already made their purchases are clutching their receipts and exchanging looks like they aren’t sure what to do.

I thought I’d made Ari’s dream come true, but I was wrong. There’s a skip. The records are damaged. Ruined. Every single one of them.

I shut my eyes and feel my chest collapsing. Why did I even bother?

Lousy.

Terrible.

No good luck.

“Jude?”

I shiver and look up. Ari is watching me, one hand on a half-empty box of records.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It must have been some error in the production process. I can …” I swallow hard. “I can contact the company. See about having it reprinted, or … I don’t know. But these …” My voice turns heavy and damp, anddammit, I’m not about to cry over this. And it isn’t about the record, not really. It’s about Ari’s dreams and my last-ditch effort to show this curse that it won’t rule my life. But I can’t say that. No one would understand. “They’re ruined. I’m sorry, Ari.”

“It isn’t your fault. Jude … this is still the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.”

I smile at her, but it’s fleeting and weak, and I would give anything to cast a spell of Invisibility right now.

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