Page 138 of With a Little Luck

I’m determined now. Determined to see this through.

“I don’t need you!” I say, setting the dice on sidewalk. “I don’t want you!” I grip the microphone stand. “Or your magic!” Raise it over my head. “Or your stupid luck!” I let out a howl of anger and swing the stand down, aiming its heavy base right at the red, glinting stone—

The force from the blow reverberates up my arms, sending me stumbling back against the wall of the store. I’m stunned, feeling like my arms are about to disconnect at my shoulders. My teeth vibrate in my skull. My eyes blink and squint, clearing away the red from my vision.

Exhaling a shaky breath, I hold up the microphone stand. The base now sits crooked, bent where it connects to the rod.

And there on the sidewalk—the dice. Destroyed. Bits of jagged stone or glass or whatever it is are scattered across the pavement, hints of gold now seeming dull in the streetlight.

My shoulders sag. My anger leaves me all at once.

I feel … ridiculous. Standing there panting while the wind tugs at my hair and my billowy pirate shirt.

And then …

And.

Then.

The car I noticed before pulls over to the curb, pinning me in its headlights. I recognize the loud thrum of its engine moments before it shuts off. The headlights dim. The door opens.

“Jude?” says Ari, climbing out of the driver’s seat. “What are you doing?”

I’m rendered speechless as she shuts her car door and walks toward me, pulling a sweater tight around her shoulders to ward off the chill coming in from the ocean.

I can only imagine what I look like right now, with my partial costume and crazed expression and broken mic stand, hovering over a shattered twenty-sided dice.

I don’t know how to answer her question, so I ask her, instead, “What areyoudoing here?”343

She looks from me to the microphone stand to the bits of broken red stone. Her expression is curious and bemused, but she just tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she walks past me into the store.

I follow behind her, feeling like I’m walking through a virtual reality dreamscape. It looks real, itfeelsreal, but something keeps nudging at my brain, telling me it can’t possiblybereal.

“I wanted to get some of my records,” says Ari, opening up one of the cardboard boxes left behind the counter. “I know you’re planning on sending them back and having them redone, or getting your money back, but Abuela asked if she could send some to our family in Mexico. Even with the skip, she thinks they’ll be collectible someday.” She makes a face, like she thinks this is highly questionable. “So I thought I’d stop by and grab some before they get sent off.”

“You couldn’t come in the morning?” I ask. “Don’t you work tomorrow?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, frowning. “It just … seemed important that I come tonight.” She laughs at herself. “Anyway, what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like a pirate? And what do you have against that poor microphone stand?”

Swallowing, I set the stand back on the stage. It tilts precariously to one side, but doesn’t fall. Then I open my arms and look down. “It was supposed to be heroic. Penny said I looked like a prince.”

Ari grins, more than a little teasing as I make my way down the main aisle between the record bins.

“That Penny’s got good taste,” she says. “Is this for a D&D thing?”

“No. I went to the dance.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? With who?”

“Nobody. I mean, Pru and Quint. And some people from the D&D group.”

Is that relief in her eyes? Am I imagining it?

“Was it fun?”

“No,” I say hastily. “It was terrible.”

But I’m laughing when I say it, so Ari smiles, too. “I’m sorry to hear344that. So, then …” She looks around the store, because of course, I didn’t answer her question.Why am I here?

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