Page 98 of With a Little Luck

A daisy.

It looks like something Ellie would make.

I crumple it all in my fist and try again.

This time, the clay turns into something resembling a guitar.

Then an old station wagon.

What exactly am I trying to prove here? That whenever I have a crush, I become devoid of all other thoughts?

I start over again. I’ll make a figure—a larger version of the small figurines we use to represent our characters in D&D. That should impress251Mr. Cross, right? I try to take my time, and even watch a YouTube video on sculpting for beginners. A torso and legs, a traveling cloak, long wavy hair, a lute …

A bitter laugh escapes me as I sit back to look at the figure. It’s not amazing work, and I haven’t added many details yet, but it isn’t half bad for my first attempt.

Maybethiscould be my gift to Ari?

Is that creepy?

It seems like it might be creepy.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, I pick up the figure, secured to a paper plate to keep it from toppling over, and set it in the corner of my room to dry. Not sure why I bother. With the way things have been going, I’ll probably fail this assignment, too. I was probably supposed to sculpt something specific. Like a cat. It doesn’t matter how good of a sculpture I make, there will be something wrong with it. The curse will make sure of that.

I slump back into my desk chair. My hands are dry and crusty from the clay, and I try to pick the chunks out from beneath my fingernails.

Thinking of cats makes me think of the fortune teller at the festival.

Divided, she said. My aura wasdivided.

Could she have been talking about my feelings, divided between Maya and Ari?

Well, if that was the case, I certainly don’t feel divided anymore. And as far as her story? The farmer and the horse and the moralizing?

Not helpful. I thought fortune tellers were supposed to offer some guidance, some wisdom, someclarity, not just tell cryptic fairy tales that don’t—

I gasp.

Wait.

That’s it.

The idea hits so hard that I lose my balance, tilting too far back. The chair crashes onto the carpet.252

“Should have seen that coming,” I mutter, scrambling to my feet. The good news is that I avoided squashing my sculpture by a mere six inches, so … maybe my luck is taking a turn for the better?

I leave the chair where it is and dash upstairs. I poke my head into the living room and see Mom watering plants and Lucy reading a graphic novel on the couch. Not who I’m looking for. I head up to the second floor. The door to Pru and Ellie’s room is open, and I can hear Ellie talking to herself.

I peek inside to see Ellie kneeling in front of the dollhouse she got for her birthday a couple of years ago. She’s holding Disney’s Jasmine in one hand, Rapunzel in the other, and it sounds like Jasmine is trying to convince Rapunzel that she really does have to go to the dentist, otherwise all her teeth are going to fall out. Funny, I’m pretty sure my parents had that exact talk with Ellie a few days ago.

I knock on the door. “Hey,” I say, stepping into the room. “Do you still have that Magic 8 Ball?”

Ellie tilts her head at me. “Yeah. It’s in there.” She points to the small wooden toy box that lives next to Pru’s bookshelf. “Why are your hands all red?”

“Had to make something out of clay for art class.”

She gasps excitedly. “Can I make something?”

“Uh—not right now.” I dig through the assortment of dolls, accessories, ponies, and random craft supplies, and find the Magic 8 Ball buried at the bottom. “Can I borrow this?”

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