Page 81 of With a Little Luck

And then it’s time for the live performances.

I feel Ari inhale sharply beside me as the woman returns to the microphone. I lean toward her and whisper, “Do you know what order you’ll be performing in?”

“I’m fifth,” she whispers back.

Fifth.It seems like forever to wait, but the performances go quickly. A husband and wife performing a song they co-wrote. Then a boy who can’t be much older than Penny, singing and playing the piano. Then two women—cousins, I think—one on guitar, one singing. They’re all really good, and even though I’m enormously biased in favor of Ari, I can admit that she has some real competition today.

It’s only the fourth performer who leaves me scratching my head a little. She’s in her early twenties and takes the stage with exuberant energy, before proceeding to sing about … seltzer water? Am I mishearing this? I frown skeptically as the song goes into the first chorus—oh so sparkly, with no calories…

I can’t help making a face. Out of how many hundreds of entries,thiswas a finalist? Am I missing a deeper meaning here? I sneak a glance around at the rest of the audience, surreptitiously as I can, and feel justified to see that lots of people look befuddled.

She’ll be an easy act to follow, at least.

As she’s finishing the song, Ari reaches for my hand. I jolt and turn207to her, but she’s watching the stage with wide eyes, chewing on her lower lip.

I turn my palm up and lace our fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’ve got this,” I say. “You’re here for a reason.”

“What reason is that?” she says, her voice barely above a squeak.

“Because the world needs the music of Araceli Escalante.”

She swallows and looks at me, and—my heart lurches so quickly I almost choke on it.

I understand why she doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but this isn’t some ludicrous fantasy. She could really do this. Sell her songs so the world can love and enjoy them. Ari has more than earned the opportunity to stand on that stage. She’s talented, obviously. But she also works tirelessly to become better, every day. She writes a song and then agonizes over every word and every note, always pushing herself to be better, to keep improving. And she puts so much emotion into her writing. So much passion. So much ofherself.

“I didn’t want to hurt EZ’s feelings earlier,” Ari says, leaning closer so only I can hear her, and even that is difficult over the music coming from the giant speakers, “but you’re my actual good luck charm.”

I stare at her. “What?”

She smiles shyly and releases my hand. Onstage, the girl takes her bow as the audience applauds politely. Ari stands and grabs her guitar.

“Break a leg!” calls Maya, and I jump at the sound of her voice. For a second, I’d forgotten she was there.

Ari heads toward the stage, just as the emcee calls, “Next up, please welcome—Araceli Escalante!”

Maya and Ezra both scream so loud they’ll probably be hoarse later, but all I can do is clap. My head is spinning like I’ve just downed a whole jug of Bork’s signature mead.

I grab my pencil again and twirl it aimlessly between my fingers, because my palms are feeling sweaty, and there’s always been something comforting about holding a pencil in my fingers. I don’t draw, though. I208keep my focus on Ari as she ascends the steps and makes her way to the center of the stage.

“Thank you,” she says, sitting down on the stool they offered her and settling the guitar across her lap. “It’s an enormous honor to be here today. This song is called ‘Downpour.’”

She plays the intro that’s as familiar to me now as any song we play at the store, and when she starts to sing, I’m struck by the same mixture of emotions that flurried through me the first time I heard it.Everytime I’ve heard it.

There’s pining in her voice, honesty in her words. And there’s Ari, glowing beneath the setting sun, looking so beautiful.

Something stirs inside me. Something so strong I can’t deny it, even though I know I’ve felt it before and managed to deny it just fine. This time, it’s inescapable. Ari, who I so badly want to see win this contest. Whose song is incredible. Who, herself, isincredible.

Who is … my friend.

And definitely not the girl I kissed not even an hour ago.

Mother of Mordor, what is wrong with me?

When Ari’s song is over, I feel somehow both jittery and numb as I clap along with the rest of the audience. I distantly hear hollers from the crowd, whistles of appreciation.

Ari returns to our spot on the grass, trembling with adrenaline. Maya gives her a hug. Ezra gives her a double high five—and then also pulls her in for a hug. It would be weird, wouldn’t it, for me to just sit here and not make eye contact and not say anything? Even though that feels safer in the moment. I have the sensation of teetering on a precipice that could fall out from under me at any second, but I also stand. I also hold out my arms and smile and try not to breathe as Ari wraps her arms around my waist and accepts the embrace like it’s a perfectly normal friend thing to do.

“You were great,” I whisper into her hair.

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