The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

“is is scarily perfect, dude,” Kiera says, cutting me o, her voice going up half an octave with
excitement. “e Huckabee Lake trip. A kiss? It’s like your mom knew. Like she knew you’d need to
make things right with Matt. That the trip tomorrow would be the perfect way to do that.”
I freeze, my eyes flicking between my best friend and my mom’s handwriting, the promise of
everything going back to normal. Everything being okay, our friends’ angry faces and Matt’s silence
gone, a drama-free senior year actually possible. It is what I want. Isn’t it?
I think about what just happened with my dad two days ago. What’s been happening this entire
summer. e town houses. Packing. My life being uprooted from underneath me. How I want nothing
more than uncomplicated normalcy after all of this.
“I mean, your parents got together during the Huckabee Lake trip, didn’t they? Talk about a sign.”
A sign. It does feel like that, doesn’t it?
I roll onto my back to look at the glow-in-the-dark stars we put on her ceiling when we were in
elementary school. I think of the stars that night at the beach with Blake, that invincible feeling that
something more could be possible. But all of it seems so distant now, my real life, my life in Huckabee
and all the expectations closing in around me. The house still slipping away.
If I don’t listen to her now, about this, about Matt, I’m no better than my dad, throwing her stu
into boxes, forgetting her, ignoring her. e list has led me in the right direction this entire summer.
Why would it not now?