Just My Luck

by Jennifer Honeybourn

  This was always going to be how it ended. So why do I feel so blindsided?

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I reply.

  “I guess there’s nothing to say.”

  Tears prick my eyes. I knew better than to get involved with a tourist. Especially this summer, when my luck has been so awful. And it’s about to get worse, because now I’m going to see Will around the hotel. I’ll have to smile and pretend that everything’s okay, that we never meant anything to each other.

  As if he knows what I’m thinking, Will says, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “What?”

  “My parents found out that Hayes has been drinking again,” he says. “They’re sending us to stay with our grandmother in the Hamptons for the rest of the summer.”

  We stare at each other. There’s really nothing else to say—nothing that will make this hurt any less, anyway.

  This is for the best, I tell myself. Will and I aren’t destined to be together. No amount of four-leaf clovers or wishing on stars can change that.

  Will swallows. “I didn’t mean for—”

  “It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Really.”

  But it’s so far from fine. And I’m not fooling him.

  I pick up the stapler and start to fiddle with it. Will stands there for a minute, drumming his fingers on the counter, until the awful awkwardness gets to him and he leaves.

  And somehow I manage to hold it together until he’s disappeared.

  Twenty-two

  I sent the luggage tag back to Ashley Rodriquez this morning. As soon as I dropped it into the mailbox, my phone rang. It was Marielle, calling to tell me that the hotel’s insurance would cover the cost of replacing my car. The amount is more than I ever expected, more than enough to buy a decent used car as well as fund a trip to California.

  So I think Karma and I might be good.

  But while I’m happy that my luck seems to be restored, I’m still feeling pretty crummy about what happened with Will last night. I hate how we left things. By now he’s probably on a plane back to the East Coast, already tucking this trip—and me—away in his memory. I keep telling myself it’s for the best, but it sure doesn’t feel that way.

  I’m sitting at a stoplight, thinking about Will, when I get a text from my brother. He wants me to meet him and my dad at Napili Bay. I haven’t seen Ansel since he sprung my dad on me at Leoda’s the other day. They’re staying at a hotel in Kihei while my dad’s in town, however long that will be.

  I debate which direction to turn. Left will take me home. Right will take me to my dad.

  The light turns green. I’m still not sure which way to turn, but the car behind me honks, and I find myself heading toward the beach.

  Maybe it’s time to stop running away. Maybe it’s finally time to just deal.

  * * *

  I squeeze in behind Ansel’s van on the narrow road. The sky is streaked with pink and gold as I walk through the grounds of the fancy restaurant perched on the bluff. I spot my brother right away, sitting on the beach. My dad is a short distance from him, standing alone on the rocks, watching the turtles fight their way to shore. Something about seeing him there, alone, makes me sad. Maybe it’s because all the other times, I was standing right there beside him.

  I kick my slippers off and walk across the warm sand toward my brother. Ansel gives me a tentative smile as I approach him.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” he says.

  “I wasn’t sure I would.”

  My brother holds out his hand and I help him stand up. He brushes the sand off his butt and then throws an arm around my shoulders. He smells like the ocean—he always smells like the ocean—and it’s comforting to know that’s one thing that will probably never change.

  “So why aren’t you over there with him?” I ask.

  Ansel shrugs. “I just needed a minute to myself. He’s driving me a bit crazy, to be honest. I’m starting to remember what it was like when he lived at home.”

  I snort. It wasn’t easy. But then, having him leave wasn’t easy, either.

  “I’m sorry for dropping him on you like that the other day,” Ansel says. “It was a pretty crappy thing for me to do.”

  “Very crappy.”

  He smiles. “You did just hear me apologize, right?”

  I smile back. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  The sun dips lower in the sky. Two turtles have climbed onto the rock near my dad. He’s crouched down and I know he’s talking to them. I know this because he does it, every time.

  “I gave Libby to Mrs. B.,” I say.

  My brother squeezes my shoulder. “See? Sometimes life works out.”

  Or sometimes it takes you in a direction you never expected. Like with me. I started this summer so sure that I was going to stay on Maui. But I finally realized that life is going to change whether I want it to or not. It won’t make a difference if I stay in the same place, because this will no longer be the same place.

  I also realized that staying with my mom is an excuse. She doesn’t need me to help her heal. That’s something she needs to do on her own.

  “I’m going to California with Nalani,” I say.

  Ansel hoots and holds up his hand so I can high-five him. I slap his palm.

  “As someone wise once told me, I can’t live my life for someone else.”

  “To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Ansel adds. “You’re always so … good.” He shudders.

  If he only knew about all the things I stole. I’m not the angel he thinks I am.

  Dad stands up. He turns around and looks in our direction, but the sun is behind him, so I can’t see his face. My hands are suddenly clammy.

  “He feels bad,” Ansel says. “I know—it’s not enough, but it’s a start, right?” He nudges me. “Where is staying angry with him going to get you?”

  Probably nowhere. And if I wasn’t ready to let go of it, to try to forgive my dad, then I guess I would have chosen to turn left at that stoplight.

  “We’re still a family,” Ansel says quietly. “We just look a little different now.”

  I sigh. The distance between us isn’t far now, but it still feels like a million miles. I guess it all starts with one step.

  My brother stays put while I walk over and join my dad. When I get to where he is, he holds out his hand so I don’t slip on the rocks. I let him help me up, but as soon as I’m beside him, I pull my hand away. I’m not quite ready to hug it out yet.

  Dad clears his throat. “Ansel didn’t tell me you were meeting us here.”

  I shrug. We silently watch another turtle climb onto the rocks and search for something to say to each other.

  Not going to lie: this is awkward. We’ve lost the easy rhythm we once had. Right now I feel like I’m standing beside a stranger. I wipe my palms on my shorts. I have a thousand questions I’d like to ask him, beginning with why he left, but that’s probably not the best way to start building a bridge between us.

  Maybe what we need is an icebreaker.

  “Would you rather win a gold medal or an academy award?” I ask him.

  He gives me a puzzled look. “What?”

  “A gold medal or academy award? Which would you rather have?”

  It’s a silly question, and I’m pretty sure I know how he’s going to answer before he opens his mouth, but that’s not the point. The point is that we need to get to know each other again. And as I’ve learned, playing this game is as good as any other way.

  “Uh … gold medal, I guess,” he says. “I was always pretty good at track.”

  I relax slightly. I’m relieved that he answered the way I expected he would. It gives me hope that we can get back to where we were, sooner rather than later.

  “Your turn,” I say.

  “My turn to what?”

  “Ask me a question.”

  “Okay.” He thinks for a minute. “Would you rather eat tacos or ice cream?”


  I roll my eyes. “You’re not very good at this game.”

  He laughs and the sound goes right to my heart. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him laugh—much longer than six months.

  “Tacos,” I say. “Always.”

  “I knew you’d say that.”

  The wind picks up. A wave crashes over the rocks, soaking our feet. The sun has almost totally disappeared now. My dad’s face is lost in the shadows.

  “We should probably go back,” he says.

  If only we could go back, I think as he holds out his hand again. I think about how we’ll have to find a new way forward as we climb back down to the beach. This time, I let him hold my hand for a minute before I pull away.

  “So how long are you in town for?” I ask as we walk back toward Ansel.

  “As long as it takes for you to forgive me,” Dad says. “Or till next Wednesday. Whichever comes first.”

  I frown. Getting our relationship back on track will take more than a few days. I wish I hadn’t wasted all this time avoiding him.

  “I would like to stay longer, but unfortunately I have to get back to work,” he adds.

  Work. I know nothing about his life on O’ahu. This is what Ansel’s been trying to tell me—I’ve never given my dad a chance to explain. All those times he called, I just let him go to voice mail. I shut him out.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” he says. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But I’m going to keep coming back here until you’ve forgiven me.”

  For the first time, I realize my dad doesn’t have all the answers. He’s not perfect; he’s made mistakes. And I certainly haven’t always done what’s right—stealing from hotel guests proved that. I can continue to lock him out, or I can take a chance and let him back in.

  “I’d like that,” I say.

  He smiles at me and draws me into a hug and we stand there, watching the sea turtles, until the last bit of sun has disappeared.

  Twenty-three

  The next morning I’m sitting on my bed, searching for flights to California on my laptop and trying not to think about Will, when my mom comes down to my room. I don’t look at her when she enters. I’m still mad that she sent Libby to the shelter, but I’m also feeling super guilty—both because I’m leaving the island and because I’m meeting my dad and Ansel for breakfast shortly. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone or that I’m abandoning her.

  “I hear you’re back on nights,” she says, handing me a mug of hibiscus tea.

  News travels fast. Marielle must have filled her in.

  “Yeah. I have a shift tonight.”

  I haven’t quit the hotel yet, but I’m going to give my notice in the next few days. This would be a good time to tell my mom my plans, but until everything is official, I want to keep this to myself.

  I take a sip of tea as she walks over to my desk. She starts to straighten my books, arranging them into a tidy pile, spines lined up. I watch her roll a pair of Alice in Wonderland knee socks into a ball and walk over to stuff them in my dresser.

  “Did you come down here just to clean my room?” I ask her.

  She sighs and closes my dresser drawer. “No,” she says. “I came down here to apologize.” She comes over and sits at the end of my bed. “I’m sorry about the cat. I shouldn’t have taken it to the shelter without talking to you first.”

  I know I was wrong to bring Libby back here—and to keep her for so long—but it’s nice to know that my mom feels bad, too.

  “I was angry that you deliberately ignored me and brought her here,” she continues. “Once I calmed down, I went back to the shelter, but—”

  “Wait. You went back to get her?”

  “I’m not heartless, Marty,” she says. “And I hadn’t changed my mind about keeping her—I don’t want a cat—but I thought that maybe I’d overreacted and we could look after her until you found her a home. By the time I went back, someone had already adopted her.”

  “I went back,” I say. “I didn’t adopt her, but I did find a home for her.” I tell her about giving Libby to Mrs. B.

  “Well, I’m glad it all worked out.” She gives me a hug. She stands up to leave, but at the door, she turns and looks back at me.

  “Everything else okay?”

  I nod. I’m mostly excited for what’s ahead and where the future will take me, but I’m still nervous about all the change coming my way. I’m also sad about Will. It sucks that it didn’t work out between us. But I don’t want to focus on what might have been, so instead I’m going to remember his smile and the way he looked at me. I’ll remember this summer and how he made me feel.

  “I will be,” I say.

  * * *

  When Benjie comes back from his break the next night, he gives me this strange, self-satisfied smile, like he has some big secret or something.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

  His smile widens. He mimes like he’s locking his lips, then tosses away the imaginary key.

  “Why are you being weird?”

  “Nothing weird about me,” he says.

  “Okay then.” The best way to get information out of Benjie is to pretend I don’t care, so I go back to texting Nalani about our trip. She’s trying to talk me into renting a camper van instead of staying in hostels, but I’m not sold on the idea. Spending one night in the hotel van in Hana was rough enough—I can’t imagine living in one for four months.

  All of a sudden, I feel Benjie behind me. He starts to fuss with my ponytail.

  I swat at him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m bored,” he says. “Let me do your hair.”

  “No.”

  “Come on,” he wheedles. “It’ll be fun!”

  “Fun for who?”

  “For me.”

  I sigh, knowing he’ll just pester me until I give in. I pull out the elastic holding my hair back. Benjie produces a brush from somewhere and starts to comb my hair, more gently than I ever would have guessed that he could be.

  My phone beeps. Nalani’s sent me a photo of a van painted in an eye-wateringly bright psychedelic rainbow, like something straight out of the flower-child sixties.

  It has a kitchen!

  No, I text back.

  Benjie starts to braid the side of my hair, carefully avoiding the bandage on my forehead. Marielle wasn’t happy when I showed up for work like this, but I need money now more than ever, so there was no way I was calling in sick.

  When Benjie finishes, he gathers the braid into a ponytail and then secures it with my elastic. He takes my phone out of my hands and snaps a picture, then turns the phone around so I can admire his handiwork.

  “Voilà!”

  “Nice,” I say.

  “Nice?” He snorts. “It’s fabulous.” He tucks a flyaway strand of hair that somehow didn’t make it into the ponytail behind my ear. His lower lip begins to tremble. “I’m really going to miss you.” He’s been sensitive all night, ever since I told him that I’m planning to quit the hotel.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No.” He swipes at his eyes.

  I give him a hug. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  “Who am I going to play Hangman with?”

  I laugh.

  He goes over to his computer and starts checking out gossip sites, but I feel him sneaking glances at me every few minutes.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says. “You just look really pretty.”

  I blink. What is going on with him?

  The desk phone rings. I make a move to answer it, but he beats me to it—which is super strange because Benjie never wants to answer the phone. At this time of night, it’s either someone calling from overseas to make a reservation or a guest calling to complain about something—and neither of those are things he likes to deal with.

  “Front desk,” Benjie says. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Yes, of course, right away.”

  He sets the phone down and says, “Somethin
g’s going on in the ballroom. Would you mind going over there and checking it out?”

  “No way.” It’s almost midnight and the ballroom is all the way on the other side of the hotel. “Send security.”

  Benjie sighs and rubs his forehead. “I’m the worst at this.” He walks over to me and rests his hands on my shoulders and stares deeply into my eyes. “You need to go to the ballroom.”

  “Why?”

  He smiles and straightens the collar on my uniform. “Just trust me. What’s waiting for you there is not something you want to miss.”

  What could be waiting for me in the ballroom?

  I stiffen. Or … maybe it’s not a what. Maybe it’s a who.

  “Go,” Benjie says. “And don’t worry about rushing back. I’ve got it covered.”

  My hands are shaking as I walk through the lobby and down the deserted hall that leads to the east wing. It takes me five minutes to get to the ballroom, but it feels much longer. It feels like the longest walk of my life.

  I tell myself not to get my hopes up. Will left two days ago. Whatever this surprise is, it can’t be him.

  But I can’t help it: my hopes are up. Way, way up.

  When I finally arrive at the ballroom, the doors are closed. I stand in front of them for a minute, trying to steady my breath. I’m afraid to open the doors and find out that Will isn’t on the other side. I’m afraid of having my heart crushed again.

  But I guess there’s only one way to find out.

  I take a deep breath and pull open one of the doors.

  My eyes widen. The ballroom has been transformed into a winter wonderland. I walk under a white balloon arch into the all-white room. It’s like being inside a snow globe. Fairy lights are strung everywhere, hanging from the ceiling and twinkling in the branches of banyan trees. There’s a table with a full luau feast, in the center of which is an ice sculpture of my high school, Maui High.

  I shake my head. This is my prom. Somehow, unbelievably, this is my prom.

  And even more unbelievably, there, in the middle of the dance floor, is Will. Wearing a black tux with red Converse sneakers, his dark hair combed neatly back. A white plumeria flower is pinned to his lapel. He’s holding a matching corsage in his hand.