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

wolves on it, and silver spiders dangle from her ears. She’s totally old-lady-eco-warrior goals.

“Hi, Mrs. Davis,” I say with a small smile. “How are you?”

“Damn tired of all these students not paying attention in my class because they’re all abuzz about this lottery nonsense. How are you?”

I slump into one of the closest desks. “Just damn tired, if I’m being honest.”

Mrs. Davis gives me a shrewd look. “Too much studying?”

I snort, then try to make it sound like a cough. “Yep, that’s it.”

I suspect she wants to ask me more about how things are at home, or to ask about Holden.

But she doesn’t do either of those things, which is lovely of her.

“Are you ready for today’s meeting?” Mrs. Davis asks as she starts gathering things from the back cabinets and hands me a stack of papers. “I’ve pulled some material that might help the newer members.”

For a moment, I blank on what she’s talking about. Then I remember: Right, we’re supposed to be talking about water quality in the Great Lakes region and what we can do to help. I volunteered to discuss some of my own research on the oceans, as prep for our trip to Lake Michigan next month.

“Of course,” I say, taking the papers. They’re yellowish and held together with rusty staples. “I’m totally prepared. These should help.”

“That’s my girl,” says Mrs. Davis fondly. She pats me on the back. “And don’t forget our aquarium-store field trip tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say. (I’d totally forgotten it, but right, we’re taking a bunch of third graders to an aquarium store in Madison tomorrow. Got it.)

“You’re doing a great job as the club president, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. You have so much potential.”

It’s as close as Mrs. Davis gets to giving me a hug, and it buoys me immensely. Before I can thank her or even reply, she walks back toward her office. I try to gather my thoughts, desperately wondering what I’m going to say about the water quality of the Great Lakes, when all I can think about are fifty-eight million reasons to flee from the Ecology Club meeting before anyone else—especially Holden—gets there.

LAKESBORO COMMUNITY FACEBOOK GROUP THURSDAY, 4:53 P.M.

J. WILKINS: Hey, folks! I’m looking for a contractor who will replace the toilets in our house. Raccoons somehow found their way in … [20 more comments]

AMY PEMBERLY: OMG OMG! Did you all hear? The winning lotto ticket was sold in our town last night! Somebody is gonna be riiiichhh! [Kim Kardashian gif]

MARY FULTON: No way! I hadn’t heard this! Wonder if it’s somebody in town, or someone passing through?

AMY PEMBERLY: Probably somebody passing through, off the highway. But can you imagine if it was somebody in town?

LISA HAWKINS: Maybe that’s how we’ll get our town swimming pool. LOL.

MARY FULTON: No need for a swimming pool. We have a lake! Are you too good to swim in the lake?

LISA HAWKINS: Sheesh. Chill out. We’re not rehashing the “swim in the lake already, pools are for snobs” argument again on here. We’re discussing the $58 million winner.

AMY PEMBERLY: Why would someone keep the money a secret? If it were me, I’d be shouting it from the rafters.

MARY FULTON: Maybe they don’t know yet? It just was announced this morning.

LISA HAWKINS: Ha! You’re telling me you wouldn’t check the numbers first thing? That’s what I always do. [50 more comments]

MARY FULTON: Not to change subjects too much, but this cow wandered into my yard this morning. Anybody know who it belongs to? Seems friendly enough … [picture of enormous dairy cow happily eating grass by a swing set]

AMY PEMBERLY: How does one lose a cow? Only in Lakesboro, lol.

MARY FULTON: This is nothing! Did I tell you about the bear that came through my yard a few weeks ago?

J. WILKINS: That’s our cow! Thank you! We’ll be right over.

CHAPTER FOUR

I HEAD STRAIGHT HOME AFTER ECOLOGY CLUB. I’M EXHAUSTED AND incredibly grateful I don’t have to work tonight. Work means talking to people, trying to keep my secret from Bran, and worrying a lot. Tonight, I need my room and my bed so I can try to calm my racing thoughts, which are screaming at me: You won the lotto, you won the lotto, you won the lotto.

Quiet, brain.

I walked home this afternoon—skipping the bus and a ride from Bran—so I could escape the chatter about the lotto winner. But it’s mostly impossible. I even popped onto the town’s Facebook group, which I never do, to see what people were saying about the winner. Confirmed: Everyone is talking about this lotto ticket and the mysterious winner.

With every step, I hear the ongoing swell of voices that filled the school today: “I wonder who it is?”

“Here’s what I’d do …”

“Can you imagine—$58 million?”

These comments circle in my head like a swarm of mosquitoes, each one stinging me slightly. I push all the thoughts and voices down as soon as I reach my house.

Ahhh, home sweet trash heap.

Mom and I live on the far side of town, where the neighborhoods trickle off and fields of corn and soybeans spread out like picnic blankets. Out here, the houses are at least a half mile apart, and red barns with painted quilt squares on them dot the landscape. My house was once part of my grandparents’ eighty-acre farm, but Grandma sold most of the land when Grandpa died (which is how she could afford a condo in Madison). Now we only have the original farmhouse and a small yard neighbored by cornstalks on one side and barbed wire and cows on the other. Which is fine with me. I’m glad we don’t have close neighbors to yell at us about the yard.

With a long sigh, I step through the garden gate of my house. Part of the fence—which might have been made of white pickets once but now looks more like a mouthful of dirty