Good Luck Charm

by Kellie McAllen

  Jake sees me staring down the hall with a miserable look on my face and comes over to talk to me. “Hey Kerri, how’s your ankle? Are you doing okay? You look like you’re in pain.”

  I’ve been standing for several minutes now, so my ankle is starting to hurt again, but it’s my heart that’s aching. I know Connor is going to say yes to Mallory. Why wouldn’t he? He’s had a crush on her forever. What if they go out and Mallory decides he’s worth a shot, after all? I can’t imagine anyone not liking him, once they spent some time with him. He’s, like, perfect boyfriend material. I guess there’s nothing to do but wait and see.

  “I’m doing better. I’ve just been putting a lot of pressure on it today.” My heart and my ankle.

  “Here, let me help you. What class are you going to?” He holds out his arm, and I take it, grateful for the support. If I can’t have Connor, at least it seems like I might still have Jake.

  I’m limping to my next class, leaning on Jake’s arm, when I pass Connor in the hall. He glances at me and quickly turns away, making the hole in my heart even bigger.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Connor

  That was the worst weekend ever, and it doesn’t look like today is going to be any better.

  I spent the whole weekend mad, jealous, and missing Kerri, desperate to know what was going on with her, waiting for her to call me, and wondering if I should call her.

  I can’t believe Kerri went out with Jake Matthews. I know everyone else thinks he’s hilarious, but I think he’s a total douche. But maybe that’s just because he wants Kerri. The thing is, it looks like Kerri wants him, too.

  When Eric told me he thought Kerri was into me, it was like I’d been sitting in a dark room and someone turned on the light. Cheesy, I know, but the perfect analogy. All of a sudden I realized how obvious it is. All the signs are there. Kerri likes me, and I like her. So why the heck did she go out with Jake Matthews again?

  I expected her to call me afterwards and tell me some funny story about how awful it was, but she never did. Did that mean she had a great time?

  I thought about going to the game on Saturday, but I guess I was still angry and wanted her to miss me. I heard they lost, so she’s probably mad that I wasn’t there. I figured she’d call and complain about that, but I didn’t hear a peep from her. Is she so into Jake now that she doesn’t even care about basketball? That doesn’t sound like Kerri at all, but why wouldn’t she call me?

  She didn’t call me Sunday, either, which meant she spent the whole weekend without me, when we usually spend most of it together. Didn’t she miss me at all? The only logical explanation is that she spent it with Jake, instead.

  When I see them walking arm in arm on Monday, I’m smacked in the face with the truth. I’ve been replaced.

  What I don’t get, though, is what about the whole lucky charm thing? I don’t really believe I’m good luck, but Kerri certainly does. I guess I’ve been humoring her because it gave me a reason to spend time with her. Has she decided she doesn’t need me anymore? Is Jake her new lucky charm?

  When I get to History class, Kerri is already in her seat with her foot propped up on the chair in front of her, and there’s a bandage wrapped around her ankle. Even though I’m angry at her, I immediately feel bad for her and want to know what happened.

  She looks up and catches me staring at her, and the look she gives me just confuses me even more. She seems happy to see me and sad at the same time, maybe even a little confused herself. I can’t resist going over there to talk to her.

  “Kerri? What happened to your ankle?”

  She blushes, and it turns her cheeks adorably pink. “I twisted it on Friday night when I was out with Jake. My heel got caught in a crack in the pavement.”

  I wince. “That sounds painful.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty bad. I ended up going home early.”

  That gives me a strange sense of satisfaction that I immediately feel guilty about.

  “I bet Jake was disappointed.”

  “He was really nice about it, but I wish you would’ve been there. It probably wouldn’t have happened.”

  What does that mean — that she wishes she’d gone out with me instead, or just that she wishes I was there to be her good luck charm?

  I shove my hands in the pocket of my hoodie and try to come up with an appropriate response. “So, do you think you’ll go out with him again?”

  She stares at me for a minute then slowly shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. It was nice to have a date on a Friday night.”

  As opposed to hanging out with me, which she obviously does not consider a date? She didn’t seem too confident about going out with Jake again, though, so maybe she’s not really into him, after all. This conversation is totally confusing me. I didn’t used to have a problem talking to Kerri, so why do I suddenly feel like everything she says is in some code I don’t understand? Girl code, which I’ve never been able to decipher.

  I have no idea how to respond to that comment, so instead I change the subject. “So, how was the game on Saturday?” I pretend like I haven’t already heard about the loss.

  “We lost. I couldn’t play.” She points to her ankle, and now I understand why she wasn’t too upset that I didn’t go. But why didn’t she at least call me to tell me? Maybe she was mad that I kind of blew her off and she was waiting for me to call her.

  “Oh, sorry.” I feel bad for her; I know how much she loves playing basketball, and her team really depends on her.

  “Did you finish your English project?” she asks, and I wonder if she suspects I lied about that.

  “Uh, yeah. It was a big one. Took me most of the weekend.” I lie again as an excuse for why I didn’t call her. She nods like she’s not sure if she believes me or not.

  “All done now, though.” I throw that out hoping she’ll take it to mean I’m available if she wants to hang out. Even if she’s not interested in me as a boyfriend, I still want to be friends with her. I miss her, and it’s only been two days. She doesn’t say anything, though, so I throw her another bone.

  “So, what are you doing tonight? Want to hang out?”

  She winces. “I actually have a doctor’s appointment after school, so that wouldn’t be much fun.”

  Normally, she would want me to be with her for good luck. I wait a beat for her to ask, but she doesn’t.

  “Nah, I guess not,” I mutter, but I can’t resist giving her one last chance to show me she still wants me around.

  “So, do you think you’ll be able to play on Wednesday?”

  She shrugs. “I’m going to try my best. This is the last game to help us qualify for state.”

  I wait for her to ask me to be there; it’s so important to her I can’t imagine that she would risk it, but she doesn’t say a word.

  The bell rings then, giving me an excuse to walk away, and I spend the rest of the period trying to figure out exactly what happened between us. I have no idea, but I think I’ve lost her.

  In English class, I’m staring into space, wishing I could figure out how to read girls’ minds when someone taps me on the shoulder. I shake myself out of my stupor and look up into the aqua eyes of Mallory.

  “Hey, Connor.”

  I sigh. She’s probably upset that her team lost on Saturday, and she wants me to make sure Kerri shows up for the next one. She leans on my desk, her face inches from mine, invading my personal space. I want to move back, but my senses are stunned by her presence.

  “I heard Kerri’s going out with Jake now, so I guess you guys broke up.”

  I have no idea how to respond to that, so I just stay quiet and wait for her to make her point. She stares at me for a minute, waiting for me to answer, then huffs and flips her hair.

  “Do you want to go out some time?”

  I’m so surprised by this, my hands drop out from under my chin, knocking my pencil off my desk, and I just about fall off the chair. “What?”

  “You know, on a date.” She l
ooks serious, and I scan the room with my peripheral vision trying to figure out if this is some kind of hidden camera thing or if I’ve been transported to an alternate universe.

  “I thought you were going out with Dylan,” I spit out, because this doesn’t make the least bit of sense.

  She waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “We did, but he’s not really my type.”

  “And I am? I thought Dylan was exactly your type.” Wealthy, outgoing, athletic, attractive, and most of all, popular — one thing I’ll never be.

  “I’m tired of guys who think they’re God’s gift to women. I want someone different this time. A nice guy, like you. So, what do you think?”

  She smiles at me, and the brilliance blinds me. I stare at her for a minute, stunned, till her smile weakens, and I realize she’s waiting for a response. I open my mouth and force some words out.

  “Uh, okay, yeah.”

  She grins again. “Great! How about tonight? Pick me up at 6?”

  My eyes bug out. She’s really serious about this! “Uh, sure. What’s your address?” I scramble for my pencil and can’t find it then remember I dropped it.

  She whips out her phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you.”

  I rattle off the digits, and two seconds later my phone buzzes with an incoming text — Mallory’s address. And just like that, I have a date with Mallory Kingston.

  She glances at me, her eyes flicking up and down my body. “Don’t be late, and wear something nicer.”

  The bell rings, and she flounces up the row to her seat. Suddenly, Kerri’s face pops into my mind. What is she going to think when she finds out about this? Will she be upset, or doesn’t she care if we see other people? She went out with Jake, so what’s wrong with me going out with Mallory? Maybe it’ll even make her jealous and she’ll realize she wants me back.

  I shake my head. What am I thinking? Here I have a chance to go out with my dream girl, and I’m worried about how some other girl feels about it! But she’s not just any other girl, and I can’t help but care about what this will do to our already precarious relationship.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Connor

  I stumble through the rest of the day in a fog of fantasies and worries, and by 5:00 I’m a total wreck. I’m standing in front of my closet staring at a row of shirts and jeans, none of which are any “nicer” than the ones I have on.

  I never had to worry about what I was wearing when I was with Kerri. In fact, she usually complimented me on my sports jerseys. Some of those were pretty expensive, but I have a feeling that’s not what Mallory meant.

  I dress about the same as most guys I know. Well, except for Kerri’s brother Sean who dresses kind of preppy. Is that what Mallory likes? I flick through my shirts looking for something like that.

  I find a dress shirt deep in the back of my closet — a plaid button-down my mom bought me to wear for Easter one year. It’s blue and green and pink, and I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in it, but it’s exactly the kind of thing Sean wears. Maybe I can work with that. It’s kind of small now, but I can still get it on. That makes my muscles look bigger, right? I roll up the sleeves like Sean does, only they don’t look quite right. Is there a trick to this I don’t know? I roll them up and down a couple times before giving up. And let’s not even talk about how many times I tuck and untuck the shirt from my khakis, trying to decide which looks better. Geez, putting on a shirt should not be this complicated.

  I probably need something better than tennis shoes, too. I squeeze my size 11 feet into my old, size 9 dress shoes and hope Mallory doesn’t want to go walking through the mall.

  Finally, I sneak into my parents’ bedroom to look at myself in my mom’s full-length mirror. I don’t think I’ve ever examined my outfit so closely before. I look exactly how I feel, like a dork trying way too hard to be cool. I want to chuck it all and go back to my jeans and tee shirts, but I’m doing this for Mallory, right? I’ve been dreaming about this day ever since I first laid eyes on her. She’s worth a little extra effort.

  “I’m going out. I’ll be home in a few hours,” I holler to my parents as I slip out the back door. They’re used to me hanging out with Kerri most nights, so they won’t know that anything’s different — unless they see me in this getup.

  I plug Mallory’s address into my GPS app and head out, turning up the music and crooning along to settle my nerves a little. It helps, but the minute I pull up into her driveway, sweat pops out on my forehead and under my armpits, probably staining my shirt. I climb out of the car, my legs weak and my hands jittery, and I shove them in my pocket to hide the shaking as soon as I ring the doorbell.

  Mallory opens the door, looking more gorgeous than ever, if that’s even possible, and suddenly I’m deaf and dumb and brainless. Speak up, Connor!

  “Hi, uh, how are you? Nice to see you again. Is this your house? It looks nice. And you! You look really nice. I mean, you always look nice, but…”

  I babble some inane greeting like a bumbling idiot, and Mallory looks like she wants to shut the door in my face. I try again, making it even worse.

  “Can we just go?” She rolls her eyes at me and steps out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her.

  I nod and walk with her to the car, hustling to keep up with her. She eyes my car, and I’m grateful it got some extra attention this weekend, since I was trying to distract myself from thoughts of Kerri. She doesn’t seem impressed, though, if the look on her face is any indication. It’s not a BMW or anything, but it’s spotless and still looks good even though it’s several years old. What does she expect from a guy in high school?

  I open the door for her, and she slides in, and I hurry around to the drivers’ side. “Where would you like to go?” I smile, glad I finally got out a complete sentence without looking like an idiot. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out where I should offer to take her, but eventually I decided it would be better to just let her pick.

  “Let’s go to La Mer. I’m in the mood for seafood.”

  I gulp, trying to remember how much money I have. I was planning to look for a job as soon as basketball was over, but this night is going to totally wipe me out. She’s worth it, I tell myself again.

  When I turn on the car, Florida Georgia Line blares from the speakers, and it reminds me of Kerri. Mallory immediately reaches for the knob and changes the station. “Ugh, I can’t stand country music. It makes me think of rednecks in pickup trucks.”

  Okay, no problem, I like lots of different kinds of music. She scans through the radio stations and stops on a top 40 station that’s playing an early Justin Bieber song. I cringe, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  I feel like I should make small talk, but I have no idea what to say to her. What do Kerri and I talk about? We talk about sports a lot, since we’re both into that. Mallory plays basketball, so I go for that.

  “Did you watch the Lakers game last night? Lonzo Ball was impressive, wasn’t he?”

  She turns her head to look at me, a blank look on her face. “You’re not going to want to talk about sports all night, are you?”

  I gulp and shake my head. “No, no! We can talk about anything you want. I just thought since you were on the basketball team…”

  “I’m just doing that because colleges like to see a variety of extracurricular activities. But professional sports are so pointless, you know? Grown men chasing a ball around. Don’t they have anything better to do? I can’t believe people waste their time watching that.” She rolls her eyes and sneers. Okay, I guess that subject is off the table.

  I glance at her and notice her little, black dress is riding up, exposing her toned thighs, and I fantasize about running my hands up them. “You look really pretty. I like your dress.”

  She glances down and finally smiles at something I said. “Thanks. It’s the latest Dolce and Gabbana. I was dying to have it, but my parents said it was too expensive and wouldn’t buy it for me, but I talked my grandmot
her into getting it for me for my birthday. They didn’t have it in stock at our Neiman Marcus, so we had to drive to Santa Monica, but they didn’t have my size…”

  Mallory rambles on for the rest of the ride about her quest to find the perfect dress and matching accessories, and I try my best to listen, but I end up zoning out a few times. I don’t remember Kerri once mentioning where she bought an outfit or who the designer was. I wonder what Mallory thinks of my outfit, but she doesn’t mention it.

  Mallory pouts when we find out there’s a 20 minute wait at the restaurant, so I ask to look at the menu so we can at least decide what we’re having. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve heard of it, and it’s even nicer than I realized. Even the salads are more than $20. Kerri usually picks places where the menu is on the wall and you order at the counter.

  “Have you been here before? What’s good?” With these kinds of prices, it ought to be amazing.

  “Yeah, my family comes here all the time. I like the seafood trio.” Of course she does. It’s the second most expensive thing on the menu. Maybe I’ll just get one of those $20 salads.

  When the waitress leads us through the dining room to our table, my chest puffs up and I fight to hold in my grin when people stare at us. Well, at Mallory, anyway. She looks incredible in that tight, little dress and those strappy heels with her long, blonde hair hanging in loose curls halfway down her back. The dress is strapless, and her boobs are defying gravity and spilling out the top of it. I can’t resist putting a hand on her back as we walk, and I’m tempted to slide it lower.

  We’re seated at a small table in the corner by the kitchen, which seems fine to me, but Mallory snubs her nose at it. “My family are regulars here, and we’ve never gotten such a bad table!”

  I glance around, looking for a better spot, but the restaurant is full.

  “I don’t have any other open tables, Miss,” the waitress says.

  Mallory looks around then huffs and sits down. “Fine, I’m too hungry to wait any longer.”