The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

into all of that? What’s your deal at Huckabee High?”
I want to ask: Before or after junior prom?
But what slips out is more honest than I intend it to be. “Before or after my mom died?”
Blake glances over at me, her fingers opening and closing around the steering wheel. “I guess both,”
she says, not like I’ve made her feel uncomfortable or awkward, like she actually wants to know.
And I actually want to tell her. Someone separate and outside of it all.
“I don’t know. I guess… My friends and I were always up to something. Always trying to pull o
some wild scheme or plotting some fun adventure. I spearheaded the eighth-grade prank of filling the
halls with Ping-Pong balls. I set three of Jake’s family’s chickens loose onto the field during a Huckabee
High football game. I helped plan the best eighth-grade formal Huckabee Middle School has ever had.
If something happened at school, people used to assume I was involved somehow and… they were
probably right. But now…,” I say, turning my head to look out the window at the rolling fields. “It’s just
different. I don’t like the risks anymore, I guess. It stopped feeling… worth it.”
Blake glances over at me but doesn’t say anything, so I shrug. “I try to keep a low profile now. But
that’s pretty hard to do when everybody knows everybody else, and you go from the girl who was
always ‘fun’ or ‘up to something,’ the person everyone wanted to be around, to that ‘poor girl whose
mom died.’ ”
And, yeah, I mean, it’s also pretty hard to do when you kiss someone other than your boyfriend at
junior prom.
“What about you?” I ask, reminding myself we still barely know each other. Why do I keep telling
her so many things? “What’s your plan for senior year?”
Blake lets out a long hu of air. “I don’t know! I’m more of a doer than a planner. Probably just
make a few friends. Try to pass my classes. Join the soccer team.” e corner of her mouth ticks up as
she gives me a teasing look. “Keep a low profile.”
I swat at her shoulder. “My friend Olivia plays on the soccer team,” I say, before I realize what I’m
saying. I think back to her icy glare at Snyder’s Orchard. Former friend? “Jake can probably introduce
you,” I add, quieter now.
“That would be cool.”
“Make a right turn into the parking lot in half a mile,” the automated GPS voice says. I swallow
hard, trying to ignore the destination dot getting closer and closer.
I feel the truck slow as Blake puts her turn signal on and pulls into the parking lot, the sun
reflecting off the pool of sparkling water as she parks.
“Are you nervous at all? For school to start?” I ask.
“Why would I be nervous?” she replies. e most Blake answer of them all. Completely free from
overthinking.
We both fall silent, peering up at the cli, sitting atop the lush, green tree line. It is… enormous. Just
looking at it, I can feel my vertigo taking over, Blake’s words from a moment ago echoing around my
head.
Why would I be nervous?
“All right!” Blake says as she turns the car o, her keys jingling as she pulls them out of the ignition.
“That isn’t too bad!”