Lucky Girl by Jamie Pacton (novels for beginners txt) 📕

Shit.

What am I even doing?

“Where are we going?” I say.

It’s vaguely alarming that we haven’t seen any of our classmates for a while, but this place is huge. We’ll catch up with them eventually. Or we’ll just wander until we have to start making out to have something to take our mind off the millions of unnerving things around us.

I’ll take option B, please and thank you.

“There it is,” Holden says, stopping abruptly. “Look.”

He releases my hand and points upward.

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

Above us rises an enormous whale. Its belly is painted black, and its mouth is open, revealing rows of huge, pointed teeth. It’s not real, thank God (though I wouldn’t put it past old Alex Jordan to have a taxidermied whale tucked away somewhere).

“It’s supposed to be fighting a squid, see?” Holden points at the tentacles rising out of the floor to wrap around the whale. He takes my hand again, leading me up a ramp that spirals around the whale so we can see the whole whale-squid battle from all angles.

“This is outrageous and wonderful,” I say, peering down at the whale. “I never thought I’d be able to go whale watching in the middle of rural Wisconsin.”

“Thought you’d like it.” Holden grins at me. “And it makes your sweatshirt that much more appropriate.”

I laugh as I look down at my Whale Watcher shirt.

“It’s perfect,” I say. “Take my picture?”

I hand Holden my phone. He holds it up. “Say whale watching.”

I stand in front of the giant whale, arms outstretched, grinning. “Whale watching.”

He takes a bunch of silly photos and then hands the phone back to me.

“Thank you.” I loop my arm through his, giving him a small hug.

“I like seeing you happy,” he says.

He likes seeing me happy.

Well. Shit.

Of course, I kiss him right there and then, beside the giant whale, not caring if anyone from our class sees.

“Jane,” Holden says in a low voice, pulling away from the kiss. “I’ve got to ask you—”

But before I can find out what Holden wants to ask, a loud bunch of voices fill the room.

“There you are, Holden!” yells Banks, one of the cross-country dude-bros. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Get down here—we’ve got to show you this one room full of old cars.”

Banks jogs up to us, taking in how close we’re standing and our entwined hands. His eyebrows shoot up, and Holden drops my hand.

At the same moment, a loud whistle splits the room. That’s Bran, with the whistle we’ve been using since we were in middle school. He waves at me from the bottom of the ramp.

“I’ve got to go,” I say to Holden, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Text me later if you want to chat. And thanks for showing me this whale.”

“I’m confident you would have bumped into it eventually,” Holden says. “Talk to you later tonight.”

Holden waves as his friends pull him away in the opposite direction. I start down the ramp, not even sure what just came over me or what Holden means about later tonight, but I’m looking forward to it just a little too much.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY SPEED BY. BOTH DAYS, I GO TO SCHOOL and soccer practice, though we barely have a practice field since it’s Homecoming weekend and the football team is drilling on half of our field. After soccer, Bran and I walk around town, knocking on doors and “looking for clues,” as he puts it.

He hasn’t found any yet, which is wonderful because he’s no closer to discovering my secret. And which makes me a terrible friend for being happy about, since he’s no closer to discovering my secret.

When I get home both nights, I check the lotto ticket—still tucked into Sea Change, still unsigned, and I’m still not sure what to do with it. Holden texts me daily, and we chat for hours, though he doesn’t hang out with me at school. Which is kind of odd, but maybe we’re taking things slowly?

On Thursday night—a little more than a week before my birthday—Bran and I are sitting behind the café counter at the pumpkin farm, drinking steaming cups of cider and talking about our next steps. Well, he’s talking about next steps in the investigation. I’m listening and trying to not to check my phone obsessively, hoping that Holden has texted me. We’ve been slammed all night, but the café cleared out as the last hayride of the day headed into the field.

“The trail has mostly gone cold,” Bran says in a frustrated voice. “If we could get access to Wanda’s, just to take a look at the scene, then maybe we’d get some new information.”

“Did Wanda ever return your email?”

Bran shakes his head. “Not really. I got a short reply that was like, ‘Hi, Bran, I’m having a great time at the beach. When I get back, we’ll see about helping you discover the lotto winner.’”

“What are you going to do?” I put my feet up on the chair in front of me.

Bran starts to reply, but his voice is drowned out as the bell on the café door makes a jangling noise. We both look up, expecting to see more flannel-clad families wanting cider or pumpkins, but it’s Bran’s mom. She shoots us a look, and we jump to our feet. I grab a rag and hurry around to the cluster of wooden tables on the other side of the counter.

“It’s not break time!” she says with a laugh. “Though, I’m sure you’ve earned it today. Phew, I always forget how busy these October nights are. Can one of you go yell at the jerks in the corn maze who are throwing water balloons at people?” She lets out a frustrated breath.

The corn is over six feet tall, and in the middle of the maze, there’s a ten-foot platform where you can stand and see across the ocean of corn. It’s a great view, but, unfortunately, it’s also a