Page 51 of With a Little Luck

A skip in the record and flickering lights,

Don’t mind if the power goes out tonight127

Heart beating loud, another sleepless night,

A breath I can’t catch and my hope taking flight

I glance at Pru, wondering if she’s feeling as proud and happy as I feel. But to my surprise, Pru looks … sad. Concerned.

Her eyes dart to mine.

I mouth the word.What?

Pru stands straighter and shakes her head. The moment passes, her strange expression smoothing out as Ari finishes the bridge to the song and launches into the final chorus.

’Cause my love, it isn’t a sunrise

Was never the day shining through

Here comes the rain, and I’m crying again

Caught up in the downpour of me …

The downpour of me loving you

The last chord rings out, and we all hold our breath until the notes have faded into silence. Then Ari flashes a relieved smile at the camera, nervous once again.

Quint stops the recording, and we all break into applause.

“How was it?” Ari asks. “Be honest. If it’s terrible—”

“It’s not terrible,” Pru says emphatically. “It’s beautiful, Ari.”

“Really,” agrees Quint. “We can do a couple more takes if you want to, but … I thought that was great.”

“Yeah? You really liked it?”

“Loved it,” says Pru. “It felt very …” She hesitates. “Unguarded. In a good way.”

Ari laughs, the sound a tiny bit forced. “The lyrics just came to me when I was lying in bed a few weeks ago. Who knows? Maybe it came from a movie I watched or something.”

Pru returns her smile, but I can tell she wants to say something else. To dig further.128

I’m beyond confused. The song is amazing, so whatever Pru is worried about, I know that isn’t it.

“Whatever inspired it,” Pru finally says, “it’s really good.”

Ari looks down, running the pads of her fingers along the guitar strings. “Let’s hope the judges feel the same way.”

129

Chapter Seventeen

True to her word, Lucy takes me to the thrift store Saturdaymorning, and I am regretting my entire life by the time we’re finally finished. But I guess it’s successful, because we come back home with bags full of faded jeans and dark jackets and shirts in various colors that have no funny quip, no pop culture reference, no … nothing.

Boring.

Andscratchy.

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