Good Luck Charm Read online

  No, today I’m going to talk to the girl whose golden hair sways when she walks like a field of wheat in a warm, summer breeze. The girl whose eyes sparkle like the blue topaz rings in the jewelry counter at Macy’s. The girl whose cheeks flush rose petal pink every time she smiles, showing her pearly white teeth. Okay, now I sound like one of those cheesy romance novels my mom reads. Gah.

  Let’s just start over, okay?

  Today, I’m going to talk to the most perfect girl in the whole world — Mallory. The girl who’s been starring in my dreams ever since the first day I walked into English class and saw her, whispering to her friend, her face lit up like the sun was shining just for her.

  Today, I’m going to tell her how I feel, tell her how beautiful she is, how she reminds me of all those things. Today, I’m going to profess my undying love for her.

  Okay, maybe I won’t go that far. Maybe that would be too much. And I’m not sure I’m brave enough to say all that yet. But I am definitely talking to her!

  No more staring longingly at her from across the room, no more stalking her on the internet, no more fantasizing about hanging out with her, touching her, kissing her.

  No, today I’m going to walk right up to Mallory Kingston and start our relationship. Okay, that’s a little strong. But I’m at least going to introduce myself to her, let her know that I exist. Then maybe I can build from there.

  A “hi” today, a “how’s it going?” tomorrow, a “you look really nice today” the next day. Maybe by Friday I’ll have worked up to a “wanna hang out?”

  I know exactly where Mallory's locker is. Not because I was stalking her or anything. I just saw her standing in front of it one time when I went to talk to one of the guys on the basketball team. It’s not anywhere near mine, but since I’m almost positive she doesn’t know who I am, she probably doesn't know that.

  I decide to take a stroll down that hallway and see if she’s at her locker before school. If she is, I'm going to do it. I'm going to look right at her, give a little smile, and say, "hi.” I can handle that, right?

  I try to be cool and act like I belong there, but I feel so obvious I’m sure it’s showing all over my face as I walk towards her locker. When I get about 30 feet away, I spot a glimpse of her, and she’s as stunning as ever in a tight, aqua sweater that matches her eyes. She’s talking to a girlfriend, smiling and laughing, and it feels like she’s moving in slow motion when she tosses her hair behind her shoulder and looks up, making eye contact with me.

  Her face is still lit up, and it looks like she’s smiling right at me. My synapses ignite, sparking tingles all over my skin, and my body feels buoyant like I just sucked on helium or something. I can’t stop myself from smiling back at her.

  I’m still walking towards her, closing in, and I’m close enough now that I could say something. I open my mouth, but at the same moment she realizes I’m staring at her, and since she was obviously not intentionally looking at me it weirds her out, and she pulls back with a strange look on her face.

  It throws me off my game, and I miss my moment. Now I’m almost past her, so I have to either stop walking and turn to her or keep going without saying anything. I’m way too chicken to approach her out of the blue like that, especially when she just looked at me like I was a creeper or something, so I just keep going. I desperately want to turn my head to see if she’s still looking at me, but I’ll be embarrassed if she is and bummed if she isn’t, so I decide to keep my face forward and let it remain a mystery.

  So, basically, my first attempt at making contact was a complete failure. She noticed me, but not in a good way, and I still didn’t say even one word to her. This is totally not the way I envisioned it.

  I spend the rest of the morning thinking up ways I can fix my lousy first impression, so you’d think I’d be prepared when another opportunity presents itself, but of course, I’m not at all.

  I head to the cafeteria at lunch time and get in line, my mind on nothing more than my growling stomach. It’s only after I get past the macaroni and cheese that I realize Mallory is two people in front of me. I watch as she puts a fruit cup on her tray, and I’m suddenly desperate to know if she eats each type of fruit one at a time like I do. Does she save the cherries for last, since they’re the best? I imagine her putting a bright red cherry between her lips and sucking the sweet juice from it before popping it into her mouth.

  I’m so distracted by this, I don’t even notice at first when she gets to the cash register and starts digging in her purse, her body tensing up with frustration when she can’t find what she’s looking for.

  “I can’t believe this! I can’t find my wallet. I must have pulled it out and forgot to put it back in.” She turns and looks at the people behind her, wincing.

  Her words finally sink in a few seconds later, and I blink and shake myself back to the reality. She lost her wallet? She needs money? I have money! I should help her!

  “I’ve got it, Mallory!” I croak out loudly, and she gawks at me.

  I reach for my back pocket where I keep my own wallet, but my brain and body are idling at 500 rpm, and the rest of the world is whizzing by at 5000. I pull my wallet from my pocket, but I’ve barely got my hand around my hip when the tall, blonde guy in front of me whips out a twenty and hands it to the cashier.

  “I’ve got it, Mal. Don’t worry,” he says, and her smile springs back, and she reaches out and grabs him by his broad shoulders and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

  A kiss! She gave him a kiss for buying her lunch for her! That should’ve been me! That could’ve been me if I’d been half a second quicker.

  “Thank you, Matt! That’s so sweet of you,” she says, and I realize they know each other. Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t have gotten a kiss even if I’d helped her, but I bet she would’ve at least asked me my name if she doesn’t know it.

  Does she? Or am I just some nameless face in the crowd to her? It doesn’t seem possible that I could be so aware of her every move when she might not even know I exist. We have a class together, but has she ever really noticed me sitting there on the other side of the room from her? I try to remember if I know all the other people in that class, but I spend so much time staring at her, I don’t think I’ve ever noticed anyone else.

  I watch in jealousy as the guy named Matt picks up both their trays and carries them over to a table full of people. “Wanna sit with me today?” he asks with a toothpaste commercial smile, and she nods at him and slides in beside him. The table is crowded, so they sit close, their shoulders touching. I can almost feel her pressed up against me as I imagine myself in Matt’s place.

  “Move it, dude! You’re holding up the line,” a deep voice calls out from behind me. I whip around, wondering how long I’ve been standing there, staring. The other people in line are glaring at me and mumbling. The cashier has her hand out and a frown on her face, and I quickly pull out some money and pay her.

  I take my tray and head to the table where I usually sit with a few of the guys from the basketball team. Not the super-popular ones like Austin and Jake and Dylan, but some of the other guys. I can’t say we’re really friends yet, but we get along okay, and they don’t seem to mind me.

  If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not the most outgoing guy. I blame it on being an only child and moving around a lot when I was younger. I never really figured out how to make friends, and girls are like an alien species — if aliens were hot, and smelled amazing, and turned my insides into half-melted Jell-O.

  “I saw you spazzing out in the lunch line, gawking at Mallory. You got a thing for her?” Eric says, shoveling mac and cheese into his mouth, his thick arms guarding his tray like he’s afraid somebody’s gonna steal it out from under him.

  I wince and take a bite of my lunch. “Was it that obvious?”

  “To me, yeah, and probably to a quarter of the cafeteria. To Mallory? Not so much. I don’t think she knows you’re alive, dude.”

  “That’s harsh, man.�
� I know it’s probably true, but he says it like it’s so obvious, everybody knows it. He just shrugs his shoulders.

  “Have you ever talked to her? That’d be a good place to start.”

  I roll my eyes. Duh. Like I don’t know that? “I’m working on it, but I haven’t actually done it yet. The moment never seems right. I’m not that great at talking to girls.”

  “You need to make it seem natural. You can’t just go up to her and ask her out. I mean, you could, but she’d probably just blow you off. You don’t have that much game. Do you have a class with her?”

  “Yeah, English, next period.”

  “So, go sit near her, ask her about your homework assignment or offer to loan her a pen if she doesn’t have one — something like that. You’ve got to get on her radar first. Then maybe you can graduate to normal conversations.” He grins at me around a mouthful of macaroni, and I don’t know why I’m taking advice from him. It’s not like he has a girlfriend. At least, not that I know of.

  I raise an eyebrow at him and twist my lips. “So, what makes you think you know how to get a girl to notice you? You’re sitting at a table full of guys, same as me.”

  “Oh, girls notice me, all right. I have a presence.” He waves his arms around his massive body. He likes to say he’s got a hundred pounds of solid muscle under all that fat.

  “Everybody already knows who I am, so I can skip all that small talk and go straight to the main event, but you’re kind of invisible, so people don’t notice you. I don’t mean you’re bad looking or anything, it’s just that you don’t stand out. Brown hair, brown eyes, size medium. You look like a hundred other guys in this school.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I scowl at him.

  “No, no. Don’t take it like that. You have the advantage here. Girls may notice me, but that doesn’t mean they like me. Believe it or not, not everyone appreciates this physique.” He pops an entire bread roll in his mouth and gnaws it into a wad.

  “Well, how am I going to stand out if I look like everyone else? Girls like Mallory like guys like Austin, the popular ones who look like movie stars.” That’s the heart of the issue, right there. I’m afraid that when I do finally get up the guts to talk to Mallory, she’ll just reject me.

  He rolls his eyes and swallows his bread with a loud gulp. “Every girl likes guys like that, but there’s not enough of them to go around, so most girls are happy with any decent-looking guy that’s interested in them. Mallory doesn’t have a boyfriend, does she? So that means she’s fair game. You just have to let her know you’re interested, and make her see you’re a viable option.”

  I stare at him for a minute, digesting what he’s said as I chew my food. “You know, you’re a lot smarter than you look,” I say once I swallow.

  He nods. “Yeah, I hear that a lot.”

  When lunch is over, I drag my feet to English class, terrified of what I plan to do. I spot Mallory sitting in her normal seat, and there’s a seat diagonal from her that’s empty. Most people tend to sit in the same place every day even though we don’t have assigned seats, but I know the guy who normally sits in that spot is out sick today, so it’s the perfect opportunity.

  Sucking in a breath, I head over and slide into the chair, feeling like every eye is on me, wondering why I’m sitting in a different spot. Every eye except Mallory’s, of course. She’s busy talking to Kyra who’s sitting in front of me. But I know Mallory can see me from that angle.

  “The sun gets in my eyes over there,” I mumble to everyone and no one in particular.

  We did have a homework assignment that’s due today, but it seems too weird to ask her about that when I don’t think she even knows my name. Eric said to offer to loan her a pen or something, but she’s already doodling in a notebook, so she obviously doesn’t need one.

  Maybe I could ask her if I could borrow a pen. That would get her to talk to me, at least. But would that make me look like an idiot? I kinda think it would. I don’t want her first impression to be that I’m a moron who can’t remember to bring a pen to class. No, I need to impress her, which means I can’t ask her about the homework, either.

  I suddenly realize my breath probably isn’t the greatest since I just ate lunch. I put my hand to my mouth and casually try to do that thing where you breathe into your hand and then sniff it. Yeah, I could use a breath mint or something. I definitely don’t want her first impression to be that my breath reeks.

  I dig in my bag and unearth a pack of Wrigley’s, and a brilliant idea pops into my head. I’ll offer her a piece of gum! That’s a totally normal thing to do, right? It’s almost expected, even. If you’re hanging out with a group of friends and you pull out gum, you offer to share it. It’s like a social norm, or something.

  I take a stick and unwrap it, sticking it into my mouth, then slide another stick partway out of the pack. Here goes nothing. I offer a piece to the guy next to me first, holding it out but still close enough to me so he has to reach for it, making a show of it.

  “Want some?”

  He looks at me and shrugs and reaches for the piece that’s sticking out.

  Sure enough, Mallory’s eyes flick towards us for just a moment, and I jerk the pack away right as the guy pulls his piece out.

  “Do you want one, Mallory?” I hold the pack out to her.

  She raises an eyebrow at me and opens her mouth like she’s surprised I know her name. Not a great sign. But she reaches for the gum, and I hand the whole pack over. She takes it and looks at the front, making sure she likes that kind, I guess, then pulls out a piece and lays it on her desk.

  “Thanks…”

  “Connor. My name’s Connor.” I quickly fill in the blank, smiling at her, probably a little too widely. I quickly switch it off then gradually turn it back up to half the volume.

  She raises her eyebrows and nods, holding out the pack, and I take it from her, letting my fingers graze hers. They’re just as soft and warm as I imagined, and I’m suddenly jealous of the pack of gum because her hands have been all over it.

  Yes! She finally knows my name! She knows who I am! Okay, maybe I’m still just the guy in her English class who gave her a piece of Double Mint, but it’s something!

  She’s still looking at me, and I realize I’m staring at her. She makes a little sound in the back of her throat and flicks her eyes towards Kyra. I follow her movement and notice Kyra looking at me in expectation.

  Oh yeah, I gotta follow through on the gum thing. You can’t just give a piece to one or two people and ignore the rest; you gotta offer some to everybody around you. I quickly hold out the pack to Kyra, and she and Mallory giggle as she takes it.

  “Thanks, Connor.” Kyra drops the pack on my desk as she folds a piece into her mouth, smirking at me, and I wonder if I’m blushing or something.

  I feel like I might be blushing. The bell rings then, taking the attention off my awkwardness.

  I spend the rest of the period thinking up other reasons to talk to Mallory, but I can’t come up with any good ones, and soon the class is over, and she’s leaving.

  I can’t stop thinking about her, though, and I wonder if I could watch the girls’ basketball team practice. Watching the game last Friday, all I could do was stare at her. Well, until the last quarter when that red-headed #7 got a fire under her and started tearing up the court. I couldn’t help but notice that. I mean, I love basketball, after all, and you’ve got to appreciate a good player.

  I hatch a simple plan that gives me an excuse to scope it out, figuring that I’ll only stay if it won’t look too weird. I have PE last period, so I purposely leave my sweatshirt in the gym locker room then go get my stuff from my regular locker.

  I’m a little hesitant about leaving it. I just got it when we moved here last month, and it reminds me a lot of home. But school is over for the day, and the boys’ basketball team doesn’t have practice, just the girls’, so nobody should be in the locker room to mess with it.

  By the time
I get back to the gym, the girls have suited up and are starting their warm ups. If anybody questions why I’m here I’ll just tell them I left my sweatshirt. A few people go in and out of the heavy, metal double doors, doing who knows what, and a few other people are sitting on the bleachers. They have books and papers out, and they look like they’re working on a project, or something. I don’t think anybody would care if I stayed, but I don’t want them to think I’m just here to watch, so how can I make myself look like I have a reason to be here?

  I walk slowly around the perimeter of the gym, heading towards the locker rooms, my eyes focused on Mallory. She looks totally hot in her practice clothes — tiny, blue athletic shorts and a tight, white tee shirt that hugs her curves and rides up a little, baring a strip of tan skin along her midriff. Her long, blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail with a cute, blue-and-white striped ribbon. She looks like a cross between a cheerleader and a basketball player, giving me the best of both worlds.

  When I get to the far end of the gym, I tear my gaze away from her and head into the locker room. My sweatshirt is right where I left it, thankfully, and I grab it and pull it on.

  I walk slowly around the court, debating what to do, my eyes still pinned on Mallory, but suddenly the redhead who scored the winning point last Friday catches sight of me, and her shoes squeak to a halt as she whips her head around to stare at me. Her mouth is hanging open, and she’s gawking at my chest like an alien just tore out of it.

  She looks so freaked out, I glance down at my chest just in case, but my Notre Dame sweatshirt looks unaffected. Am I having a really bad hair day? I run a hand over my head, but my crewcut feels the same as always. Do I have food on my face? That would be totally humiliating seeing how I finally got up the nerve to talk to Mallory today. But no, I remember looking in the mirror after PE, and I didn’t notice anything.

  “Connor, what’s wrong with you? Get back in the game!” the coach yells, and it confuses me out for a second, but then the redhead jolts back to life and turns away.

  “Sorry, Coach,” she says, and I realize that must be her name, too.