Page 62 of With a Little Luck

“After you’ve played for a while, you’ll get a feel for how it works. Coming up with a campaign is sort of like writing a story without any characters. Part of the DM’s job is to keep the game on track, but it’s more about improvising so everyone has a good time. Honestly, I think you’d be great at it.”

She preens, even as she’s shrugging modestly. “It seems like a lot of work.”

“It is. But it’s fun, too.”

She hums thoughtfully while I take my next shot. “Maybe,” she says, as my ball ricochets off the walls inside the miniature windmill, then pops out the other side and straight into the hole.

She scowls. “Now, that one was definitely a lucky shot.”

“Sorry?”

“Why? I’m still beating you,” she says, writing down the score.

She does beat me in the end. It’s not that I intentionally let her win, I’m just way more focused on not getting a hole in one on every shot, so I stop paying attention to how she’s doing, and it turns out, sheisgood. As we return our clubs, the attendant gives Maya awinnersticker, which she proudly sticks to her shirt like a badge of honor.

“Does the loser buy dinner in this game?” I ask, tucking my hands into my pockets. Squeezing the dice.

The smile Maya gives me is borderline flirtatious. But rather than my confidence skyrocketing at that look, I immediately question if that was too cheesy, too fake, too …not me.

“I could eat,” she says.

I nod, suddenly unable to hold her gaze. “I know a place.”

163

Chapter Twenty-Two

We walk to Encanto, my favorite restaurant. Pru, Ari, and Ihave spent enough hours studying here after school that the owner, Carlos, doesn’t even bother to ask our orders anymore, just brings us the usual.

“I’ve never been here before,” says Maya. “But I’ve walked by it a million times.”

“I come here a lot,” I tell her. “The food’s delicious, and the owner’s really nice.”

There’s aseat yourselfsign inside the door, so I lead her to our favorite booth. We slide in, and Maya grabs the menu out of the little holder stand on the table. “What do you usually get?”

“I really like the tostones and Ari usually gets the nachos. Plus appetizers are half-off right now,” I say, pointing to the happy hour menu. But then I worry that maybe that makes me sound more cheap than practical, so I add, “They’ve got great fish tacos, too.”

“That all sounds good,” says Maya, putting the menu back and glancing around. “Oh, look. It says they have karaoke every Tuesday.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Should we come back and sing sometime?”

I grimace. “No, thank you.”

Her expression turns surprised, and I immediately regret my reaction.

“I mean—I’ll come back with you anytime you want,” I amend. “But I’m not one for singing in public. I don’t even like to sing in the shower when I know people are home.”164

“I’m not much of a singer, either.”

“Ari likes to come and sing on Tuesdays once in a while,” I say. “Sometimes she even talks Pru into it. You should join us sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

“Jude, is that you?” Carlos says, appearing at our table with two glasses of ice water. “I hardly recognized you without the usual gang. Who’s this?”

“Hey, Carlos. This is Maya. We go to school together.”

“You go toschooltogether,” repeats Carlos, in a way that makes it sound like this simple fact holds twelve layers of unspoken meaning. “Well, I hope you’re being good to this guy,” he says to Maya. “He’s one of the good ones. The usual, Jude?”

Cheeks flaming, I look at Maya, and she shrugs. “When in Rome.”

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