You must have one, he says, his pen hovering over the rows of bubbles on the form.
But the problem is this: I dont believe in luck.
At least not the good kind.
Credit: Courtesy Random House Children’s Books
Or it could be anything, really, he says, leaning forward on the counter.
I just need five numbers.
And heres the trick.
You have to make them really, really good ones.
Okay then, I say with a smile, surprised to find myself playing along.
I planned to let the computer decide, to put my faith in randomness.
Thirty-one, the man repeats as he scratches out the corresponding bubble.
And eight, I tell him.
I glance up at the sign above the counter, where three numbers are glowing a bright red.
Three-oh-two, I say, pointing at the display.
The man nods and my mouth falls open.
Thats how much you’re able to win?
You cant win anything, he points out, unless you pick some more numbers.
Right, I say with a nod.
The number of years weve been friends.
Great, says the man.
you should probably pick a Powerball number.
I frown at him.
You said five before.
Yeah, five plus the Powerball.
The sign above the counter clicks forward: 303.
Its an amount nearly too big to mean anythingan impossible, improbable figure.
I take a deep breath, trying to shuffle through the numbers in my head.
But only one keeps appearing again and again, like some kind of awful magic trick.
Thirteen, I say, half-expecting something to happen.
In my mind the word is full of voltage, white-hot and charged.
What I know is this: numbers are shifty things.
They rarely tell the whole story.
Two
Outside, Leo is waiting.
he asks, already starting to walk in the direction of the bus stop.
I hurry after him, skidding a little in the fresh snow.
Do you have any idea how much this ticket could be worth?
I say, still trying to get my head around the number.
Leo raises his eyebrows.
Thats only if you win, he says, grinning.
Most people get nothing but a piece of paper.
I feel for the ticket in my pocket.
Still, I say, as we arrive at the three-sided shelter of the bus stop.
Its kind of crazy, isnt it?
We sit down on the bench, our breath making clouds that hang in the air before disappearing.
The snow has a sting to it, and the wind off the lake is icy and sharp.
We scoot closer together for warmth.
Leo is my cousin, but really he feels more like my brother.
Leo was the one to save me.
We were an odd pair.
He was funny and kind and endlessly patient, whereas I was quiet and heartsick and a little withdrawn.
But right from the start, we were a team: Leo and Alice.
And, of course, Teddy.
When the bus appears, its headlights hazy in the whirling snow, we climb on.
He twirls them between his fingers, looking pleased with himself.
Another perk of turning eighteen.
You got a hug?
I say, looking over at him.
I got one for a free ice cream, which I somehow ended up paying for anyway.
But as I stare at the blank interior, my heart starts to hammer in my chest.
For almost three years now, Ive been in love with Teddy McAvoy.
The one consolation is that Im pretty sure Teddy has no idea.
Theres a lot to love about him, but his powers of observation are questionable at best.
Which is a relief in this particular situation.
It took me by surprise, falling in love with Teddy.
Then one day, everything changed.
Wasnt it your moms?
Leo asked, looking stricken, and I nodded.
It was just an old Stanford hoodie with holes in both cuffs.
But the fact that it had belonged to my mother made it priceless.
There was nothing to do but give up on it.
But later that night my phone lit up with a text from Teddy:Im outside.
I couldnt believe hed found it.
I couldnt believe hedgone backfor it.
Maybe Id loved him long before then.
Maybe I just hadnt realized it until I opened the door that night.
For three years Ive acted like his buddy.
Ive watched him fall for a string of other girls.
And all this time, Ive been too afraid to tell him the truth.
I blink at the card in front of me, then jiggle the pen in my hand.
I take a deep breath and write:Dear Teddy.
When Im finished I reach for the envelope.
Dont forget the ticket, Leo says, and I slip it out of my pocket.
As Leo leans in to get a better look, I feel my face flush all over again.
he says, peering at the numbers, his glasses fogged from the warmth of the bus.
Kind of an obvious one .
It seemed appropriate for the occasion.
Very funny, he says, then his eyes flash with recognition.
I had to think fast.
I just…
You dont have to explain.
I get it, he says, and I know that he does.
Thats the best thing about Leo.
Excerpt copyright 2016 by Jennifer E. Smith, Inc.
