The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

8
I peer at the sky, the downpour of rain ricocheting off the metal overhang in front of Nina’s.
Just perfect.
Of course I forgot my rain jacket on the one day the sky decides to dump out an ocean of water.
at, and my bike tire popped on the way here, so I’ll be stuck not only walking to O’Reilly’s, but also
waiting in sopping-wet clothes for my dad to come pick me up at Hank’s to go to the Carters’ to help
them unpack.
Talk about bad luck.
I would just hide out at Nina’s, but… I’ve put o starting the list for almost a whole week now, and
I’m not going to let some rain and a missing jacket ruin it for me. e Huckabee Lake trip deadline is
getting closer with every day that passes, so even if I have to walk the half mile to O’Reilly’s Used
Books in the rain, I’m going to do it.
Gritting my teeth, I step out onto the sidewalk, and the rain instantly soaks straight through my
shirt and pants. I clutch at the strap of my tote bag as I slosh my way straight down Main Street, I feel
my shoes getting heavier and heavier with each passing second, my fingertips finding the lucky quarter
I’d tucked into my jeans pocket this morning.
Something about starting the list made me feel like I should bring it along. Although it isn’t proving
to be much help.
I keep my head down, counting my steps as I go, to distract myself, the numbers blurring together
as I pass forty.
I pull the quarter out and squint down at it, rain pelting me in the eyeballs. “Aren’t you supposed to
be lucky?” I mutter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a faded light blue truck pull over onto the shoulder, the window
rolling down.
“What are you doing?” a voice calls out to me.
I turn my head and squint into the truck. “Blake?” She’s wearing a red lifeguard sweatshirt, the hood
pulled up over her wavy hair. Or at least I think she is. It’s hard to see through the rain.
“Uh… walking?”
Talk about stating the obvious.