The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

Claire in Kauai over spring break, using Johnny’s extra air miles from work, and to actually go to
Hank’s for their meat loaf special, and to make kulolo, a traditional Hawaiian dessert.
It’s exciting. Planning for the future. For adventures beyond this list.
“Do you think you’d like going to college in the city?” Blake asks.
I lean back, twisting my ponytail around my finger. “I’ve only been to New York City once. I went
with my mom pretty close to Christmas when I was a kid.” I think about the crowds, the energy, the
towering buildings, all of it so different from Huckabee.
In a good way.
“But maybe? I think I might?” I shrug. “I haven’t been there in years, so I can’t really say.”
“We should take a trip there sometime! Hang out, see a musical, maybe visit a couple of colleges.”
Maybe visit a couple of colleges.
I nod, actually… excited by the idea. “We could do like a college road trip, maybe?” e truck engine
growls loudly underneath us, struggling to accelerate past fifty-five.
Blake smirks and reaches out to pat the dash. “Totally game. But we may have to borrow someone’s
car for that.”
Pennsylvania turns into New Jersey, and the air starts to smell like salt water the closer and closer
we get to the beach. e sun slowly nears the horizon as we park, and my swimsuit digs into my skin
after the long drive.
I run my fingers along the strap as Blake unhooks the suroards, handing me the smaller of the
two, littered in stickers.
“That one’s mine,” she says.
“Yeah, Blake. I figured. Something tells me Johnny wouldn’t have a sticker that says ‘National Parks
are for lovers.’ ”
She laughs and nudges me, the point where her skin meets mine buzzing as we lug the suroards up
to the beach. Everything about her relaxes as the water comes into view. e second we set foot on the
sand, it’s like a barrier breaks. Her shoulders drop, completely free from tension. I watch her take in a
deep breath, her chest rising and falling.
“I missed this,” she says.
I study her face, realizing how hard these past few weeks must have been for her. How well she’s
been hiding how much she’s missing home and her friends and her life there.
“You wish you were back there?” I ask, looking out at the dark tan sand, a piece of trash sticking out
every thirty feet or so. “I mean, not that Hawaii could ever compare to this.”
She squints out at the water, slowly letting out a long sigh. “I definitely miss it. I think it was hard
to leave the place that had so much of my mom in it, you know? e place my parents fell in love, and
the beaches they hung out on, and the place I grew up. Especially when I feel so far away from her
already.”
I nod. I can definitely understand that.
“And, to be honest, I miss my friends. I miss my grandparents. I miss all the familiar places and
things and people.” She glances over at me for a fraction of a second before looking back at the water,
swallowing. “But if I were back there, I wouldn’t have become friends with you.”
A warm feeling swims into my chest. We’re silent for a moment, and I hold up the surfboard.