The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

My chest feels tight as I watch Blake swim back to the dock, the mischievous smile I expect to see
missing from her face, her words ringing in my ears as she pushes herself out of the water.
Try your luck on something real.
She pulls her wet hair into a bun as everyone crowds around her in excitement, her social status at
Huckabee High cemented after one dare.
Don’t ask me. Don’t ask me.
I silently will her to pick one of them. To pick Matt, or Olivia, or anyone other than me.
She doesn’t, though. She pulls her hands away from her hair and looks directly at me, through the
crowd of people, her wet shirt clinging to her upper arms and her stomach.
“Emily,” she says, my skin prickling when she says my name, so dierent from back in the woods.
Everyone falls silent, turning to look at me. “Truth or dare?”
And just like that, it’s not a game anymore. How I answer this is a choice.
I look down at the grass surrounding the log I’m sitting on, wishing it would swallow me up.
Wishing for a way out and…
There. In the grass.
A four-leaf clover.
I reach out, plucking it, and just like that the choice is made for me. I say the word I know will
change absolutely everything.
“Dare.”
I look up and I know, because I know Blake, that she’s going to do it. I know she follows through,
whether it’s backflipping o a rusty lifeguard stand or enduring a night of sleep in the back of a pickup
truck.
“I dare you to kiss someone,” she says.
ere’s a chorus of “ooo”s and someone shouting, “Don’t see any underclassmen here!” but it’s all
background noise as I hold Blake’s gaze, her eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them, not giving anything
away.
I stand up, my hand clenching around the four-leaf clover like it’s my lucky quarter, my connection
to Mom, what she must have felt here on this spot so many years ago. My grip tightens until I feel a
wave of every single emotion from this past summer.
But they aren’t about her at all.
e free fall of the cli jump. e feeling of Blake’s hand in mine in the back of her grandpa’s truck.
The achingly beautiful ceiling of stars above us. Her face when I walked away from her.
I want to throw this stupid clover away and choose her, and that terrifies me. I want to close that
space and kiss her.
But that’s not why I’m here. Not why I started this list in the first place. I can feel the weight of
everyone’s eyes on me. The weight of their expectations.
The weight of my mom’s expectations, the person I trust more than I trust myself.
So I need to trust her now, just like I have all summer long.
My feet find their way without any instruction, two steps, five steps, my movements feeling almost
robotic.
Soon I’m on the other side of the blazing fire, my heart pounding loudly as I take a deep breath and