Page 25 of With a Little Luck

Why is he asking me?

But Mr. Singh just gives me an impatient look, so I take in a breath and get out of my seat. I can feel Katie scowling at me as I take the envelope and step out into the hall.

When I reach the office, our receptionist is humming along to a song on69the radio while she sorts papers into a filing cabinet. It’s an old standard—Frank Sinatra, maybe? But as I’m waiting for her to notice me, I realize it’s one of the new covers sung by Sadashiv, a British Indian singer who’s broken a bunch of recordsandbeen called the world’s handsomest man. I only know this because Lucy and Penny both stan him big-time, and because Maya came into the store last year asking about his new release, so now I notice whenever one of his songs comes up on my sisters’ playlists.

The song finishes, and I clear my throat. Mrs. Zaluski turns toward me. “Sorry, hon, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“From Mr. Singh,” I say, holding out the envelope.

“Oh yes, thank you.” She’s reaching across the counter when our vice-principal, Mr. Hart, pokes his head out of the office.

“This is it!” he says.

Mrs. Zaluski gasps and misses the envelope just as I’m letting go. It flutters down onto her desk, landing on her keyboard, but she ignores it and turns toward the small speaker behind her computer monitor. She reaches for the dial, turning up the volume.

It’s the same radio DJ we heard in the car this morning, a lady with a bright, chipper voice. “Thank you for being with me today! I’m Vanessa Hsu, and you’re listening to KSMT 101.3, andyes, it is the moment you have been waiting all morning for! We are about to give away VIP tickets to this Thursday’s sold-out Sadashiv concert. I’ve got our last pair of tickets sitting right next to me, and I am going to give them to caller numberone hundred.”

Mrs. Zaluski and Mr. Hart both reach for their phones while the DJ gives the phone number to call.

With no one paying attention to me, I back slowly out of the office, letting the door swing shut behind me.

I usually keep my phone in my backpack when I’m at school, but now I can feel it heavy in my back pocket, still there from when I hopped out of the car this morning in my hurry to help Maya.

The hall is empty as I pull out my phone in one hand, my dice in the other.70

There’s no way, of course. The odds have got to be … I have no idea. Ten thousand to one? Maybe not that much, but still. Like—a really big number to one.

But I punch in the phone number anyway. My finger hesitates as I struggle to recall the final digit. I rack my brain. I can almost hear the DJ saying it, but …

The dice jumps out of my hand.

I gasp as it clatters for a second on the hallway floor, before stopping right between my feet.

Not twenty this time. Rather, the number four shines up at me.

I don’t think. I just punch in the final digit—four.

This is impossible.

Obviously.

But …

With a little luck.

I don’t even hear it ring before there’s a voice on the other end.

A bright, chipper voice.

“Congratulations! You are caller one hundred, and you are going to the Sadashiv concert!”

_______________

I walk back to the classroom in a daze. After announcing my win, the DJ passed me off to a producer at the radio station, and I gave them my information. They’re even going to send a limousine.

For me and a friend.

Me and a plus one.

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