The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

“You going to teach me what exactly to do with this thing? I mean, if I wanted to drown at the
beach, I probably could’ve found a way to do it without the prop.”
“Nope,” she says, smirking as we walk down to the surf. “I figured I’d let you wing it.”
She shows me how to paddle out, from finding the “sweet spot” on the board to how to work with
the wave instead of against it. Luckily, the water is pretty calm at low tide, and I manage to get out to
the smoother water on my fourth try without getting absolutely wrecked, the swell of the current not
strong enough to pull me completely under.
But I’m not as familiar with the ocean as Blake is, so it’s a bit scary feeling the pull of the waves,
dipping and fighting the board underneath me. I like the ocean, but I’ve only been here a handful of
times, mostly when I was younger, with my parents, and once with my friends back in eighth grade.
And as I paddle, I realize I… don’t exactly love being out here, surrounded by so much water, my
trust dependent solely on a giant kickboard.
But Blake’s confidence steadies me, her voice telling me to move with the pull instead of against it,
and slowly I’m able to work with the board, with my fear and uncertainty, instead of against it.
I can’t help but think of my conversation with Blake at the picnic. About Matt. About me and what
being me means. Because I see now it isn’t just about being daring, and skinny-dipping, and jumping o
cliffs.
It’s also about being afraid and sad and uncertain, and all the parts of myself, even if they’re the
parts my friends don’t want to see. It’s about being real and honest, like I am at this exact moment,
everything else fading away until there’s this moment of calm and clarity, just me, and Blake, and the
water around us.
Soon we’re sitting on the suroards just as the sun begins to set on the horizon, my legs dangling
over either side as the sky begins to turn orange and purple and deep blue, the water mirroring it,
filling itself with the same colors.
I let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for a million years, Huckabee and Matt and the move
releasing their grip on me, just for a little while. For the first time in years, so far away from all of it, I
feel free. Free of expectations and pressure, fears and worst-case-scenarios, broken friend groups, and
senior year, and an entire town that thinks they know exactly who you are.
Free to just be… myself. To think about who that actually is.
What was my mom feeling that made her put this on the list?
Did she feel boxed in too? e straight-A student who had bombed the SATs, searching for
something more? Something outside of Huckabee?
But then… I think of my mom as I knew her and how she never really did get out of Huckabee. How
she said Huckabee had everything. Was that really true, though? What made her change her mind?
Because, being here, I can’t help but think she was wrong. I can’t help but wonder what my life could
be like if I left.
I look up to see seagulls flying overhead, free and happy as they coast through the air.
“Just like your bracelet,” I say, and Blake cranes her neck to look up at them, nodding in agreement.
“Here,” she says. I look down to see the bracelet in her open palm, seagulls identical to the ones that
just flew by stamped carefully onto it.
I reach out and she takes my hand, her fingers carefully moving to wrap the bracelet around my