Gettin' Lucky (10 page)

He looked at me plaintively. “Is there any chance that either of you will leave me alone unless I give in?”

Kelly shook her head. “Unlikely.”

“Fine,” he said resignedly. “But two movies is my limit. After that, my knees start to hurt. I hate those movie theater seats.”

Of course, the best of the movies were going to be screened later that night, during
prime moviegoing hours. But I decided to let it go. I mean, Elliot had dragged himself away from his precious schoolwork to spend the afternoon with us. These were my new buds, and we were hanging on a Sunday afternoon. Good times.

I knew better than to press my luck.

“So, okay—I guess my question is, why
vampires?”
Elliot blinked as his eyes adjusted to the daylight again.

“Silly Elliot,” I said, patting him on the shoulder affectionately. “I think that if you really give it some thought, you’ll find that the question is, why
not
vampires?”

He crinkled his forehead in thought. “Nope,” he said, after a beat. “No idea.”

“Because they’re
cool,”
Kelly said. “I mean, come on—
The Lost Boys? Blade? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

“Forget about that,” I interjected. “More important than the vampires is George Clooney.”

Kelly grew silent at this, lost, I had to presume, in agreement.

“All in all,” she said finally, “a fine way to spend an afternoon. I do enjoy
From Dusk Till Dawn.”

“Though not having
anything
to do with our project,” Elliot interjected, practical as ever.

“It was team-bonding time,” I corrected him, smiling widely. “You’ll see, now—when the pressure’s really on us, we’ll work like a well-oiled machine.”

He looked doubtful. “I suppose.”

I ruffled his hair playfully. “Trust me. I have a way with these sort of things. It’s like a sixth sense.”

“I don’t believe in that stuff,” Elliot insisted.

I dug my four-leaf clover key chain out of my bag and waved it at him. “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I believe enough for the both of us.”

“You’re in a good mood these days,” Dad commented.

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed.

It was no wonder that he’d taken note of my newly lightened attitude; I was actually humming to myself as I set the kitchen table for us for dinner. Dad was making tacos, which would perk me up any day, but as it was, I’d been extra cheery since getting home from the movies with Kelly and Elliot.

“I was pretty worried about you for a little while there,” he said, kind of glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, as if testing to see how frank we were going to be with each other.

“Well, so was I,” I said. I took a deep breath. I appreciated his concern, of course, but I really didn’t think it was necessary to jeopardize my good mood with a big, sappy heart-to-heart. “But, you know, life goes on.”

“Anything in particular spark this new and improved outlook?” Dad asked, taking his cue from me to treat the subject somewhat lightly.

I thought for a moment. “New friends.”

Dad peered at me. “Friends of the male persuasion?”

“Please,” I said, snorting to myself. “I made some new friends in film class. Kelly Connor and Elliot Forest. You met Elliot, remember? We’re working together on a class project.”

“Elliot. Your new friend of the male persuasion,” Dad observed wryly.

“No. I mean,
yes,
he’s a boy, but no, he’s not a boy like that,” I protested. The thought of getting romantic with Elliot actually made me laugh out loud, which
immediately made me feel bad. “I mean, I guess he’s, like, cute, or whatever,” I said hastily, feeling bad for talking any sort of trash about someone as shyly sweet as Elliot—“you know, in that sort of brainy, quiet, unkempt way—”

“Ah,” Dad cut in, realization dawning.

“But, you know, we’re just so different.”

“Because you’re, what? A huge airhead?”

I blushed. “No, I mean—okay, well, he’s an Aries. We are total opposites on the zodiac wheel. We have
nothing
in common.”

“Hmmm,” Dad said, but refrained from offering anything else.

“I don’t like that noise,” I said.

“No noise,” Dad countered. “I am refraining from passing any judgment.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “That’s the noise that you make when you are refraining from passing judgment. So, please. Judge away.”

Dad shrugged, pouring another healthy dollop of olive oil into the hissing skillet and stepping backward as the oil splashed back up onto him. “It’s just that I would hate to see you pass up something great all because of this predilection that you have toward superstition.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dad, come on. There’s
a reason that people adhere to superstitions. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Jesse and I were totally mismatched, according to our signs, but I ignored it and I went for him, anyway. Look where that got me. I’m just not going to make the same mistake again. It’s too risky.”

Dad must have noticed the slight hitch in my voice, because his expression softened and he backed off. “I hear you, Cass,” he said. “I just want you to give people a chance.”

“I do,” I said. It was true. Elliot was a great guy, and a fun new friend to have. Even if half the time he seemed completely terrified by how outgoing I was. But friendship was where it started and ended.

I considered myself lucky to have become closer to Kelly and Elliot. They came into my life at a time when I needed new friends. I didn’t take that for granted. And I wasn’t going to jeopardize it, either.

No way.

Poker night. This time, James dealt.

Straight flush. I tossed my bet into the pot.

Kelly bet.

Marcus bet.

Elliot bet.

Andy folded.

More cards. No use to me. I raised.

Kelly raised.

Marcus raised.

Elliot folded.

I called.

Kelly had nothing, not even two pair. I laughed at her and she shook her head, munching contentedly on a potato chip. “Whatever,” she said. “It’s only one hand.”

Marcus chuckled. “You should start taking these things more seriously,” he admonished, totally seeping his smarm in Kelly’s face. He flipped his cards down. “Seriously.”

Full house.

“It’s good advice, Marcus,” I said. I looked him straight in the eye and laid my cards down onto the table. “Really good advice.”

James hooted and scooped up the pot, pushing it across the table toward me.

Kelly laughed so hard, I thought soda would shoot out her nose. “Awesome, Cass,” she said, literally slapping her hand against her leg. “Completely awesome.”

Elliot and I stayed behind to help Kelly clean. Elliot, however, mainly spent the
time marveling over my transformation. “You’re … a ringer.” he said, eyes wide.

“Okay, except that would imply that I’m cheating,” I protested. “I just, you know, took your advice. I’ve been, like, practicing and stuff.”

“Um, yeah, you have,” Kelly said. “I mean, you don’t make that kind of turnaround without practice.”

“It started with some lessons from Elliot,” I said modestly. “And, I mean, you know, I got dealt good cards.”

“Oh, hey now,” Elliot interjected. “What have we learned about blaming luck?”

“Right, right,” I said, nodding. “No luck. Luck is not a factor.” I swallowed a sip of soda, then tossed my empty can into the plastic bag of recyclables that I was gathering together. “You realize that’s, like, heresy, to me,” I reminded him. “I’m just not wired to think that way.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that,” he said. “But considering how much your playing has improved, you should consider converting.”

“I’m a little uncomfortable with the use of religion as metaphor,” Kelly said, joking, “but then again, Cass’s turnaround is clearly nothing short of divine intervention.” She
placed the roll of paper towels in her hand down on the living room coffee table. “Cass,” she began.

“You’ve got serious face,” I said, instantly nervous.

“Sort of,” Kelly admitted. “It’s kind of a ‘good news—bad news’ sort of situation.”

“Good news first, please,” I said, worried.

“We’ve built somewhat of a reputation,” Kelly said.

“Um, like what sort of a reputation?” I asked. “Is this because I wore that shirt when we went out the other night?”

“No, you freak,” she assured me. “Nothing to do with that. What I mean is that we have a reputation for good poker playing. Like, as in, everyone now knows that you’re really good at it. I was blogging about it online.”

“Definitely a good thing. I want to be a legend in my own time,” I said. This was cool. Maybe I could be, like, a hustler. Like Tom Cruise in
The Color of Money.

“So, the thing is, see, that now there are people who, like, want to join our game,” Kelly said.

“Ohmigod,” I squeaked, realizing. “It’s
like I’m famous! I’m like Lauren Graham on
Celebrity Poker Showdown—
except with blond hair. And maybe taller. And, you know, blue eyes.” I took a deep breath. “Not the point, I know. But—awesome!” Like, how flattering?

“I thought so too,” Kelly said carefully. “I’m glad that you agree.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, the realization finally dawning with all the subtlety of a block of cement. “The bad news, please? Who, exactly, is so crazy-eager to play against me?”

Kelly winced, but didn’t say anything.

I whirled to face Elliot. “You,” I said, pointing at him. “You must know.”

Elliot shifted uncomfortably. “Sort of.”

And then it hit me.

“It’s Jesse, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to keep my face from crumbling. “Jesse wants in on our game.”

“Not just him, Cass,” Kelly said, her eyes widening with sympathy. “I mean, he’s got a whole band of poker buddies too. They travel together.”

“Right. So, like, Jesse, and, um, Jake, and that other guy from the football team?” I asked, my voice raising into a slightly
hysterical pitch. “Am I leaving anyone out?”

“Well, we’ve got a ten-person cap on our games,” Elliot reminded me. “So there were four open slots.”

“Jesse, Jake, and Dennis. You’re leaving one person out,” I said, my voice dangerously low. There could only be one other person Jesse would want to bring in to our game. It would be like a Midvale High Grudge Match.

Kelly sighed and put her hands on her hips. We both said her name in unison:

“Alana.”

To say that I was uninterested in playing poker with Alana and Jesse was an understatement of epic proportions. In point of fact, I was able to quickly compose a short list of slightly more desirable pastimes than card-playing with my ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend:

1. Develop life-threatening illness, i.e., flesh-eating bacteria or mysterious, non-specific bird flu.

2. Stick sewing needles directly into my eyeballs.

3. Tap-dance naked at the next Midvale pep rally.

4. Shave my head and dye remaining stubble electric blue.

5. Endure Brazilian bikini wax.

I explained as much, and, um, rather impassionedly so, to Elliot and Kelly. They were understanding, but perhaps less so than I might have hoped. That is to say, they weren’t going to let me off the hook.

“Look, Cass,” Kelly said, leveling with me, “I know Jesse’s a jerk. I mean,
I
knew that he was a jerk before anything even happened with him and Alana. But he’s a notoriously good poker player. It’ll be a good game.”

“I hear you,” I replied, nodding with slow deliberation. “And yet, I don’t think you’re getting me. Like, I might
literally die
if I have to play against him and Alana. From seething rage. People can die from that, you know. Anger. Or worse, I’ll kill them both. Throttle them or smash their heads together.”

Elliot made a sour face.

“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing at him. “I’m sure that someday in the not-too-distant future, I’ll totally forgive them, but for now,
I’m sort of more in a head-smashing kind of place.”

“Right. Head-smashing,” he replied, as if making a mental note. He took a step backward away from me for good measure.

“I think you’re looking at this completely the wrong way,” Kelly cut in. “I mean, Jesse’s good, but so are you these days. I mean, you’re getting better all the time. Going up against him could be good for your ego.”

“Yeah,” Elliot chimed in. “I mean, you might actually
win.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I quipped dryly.

“No, I mean it,” Elliot insisted. “You’re a good player. And we can definitely practice some more. As much as you want, so you feel ready to take him.”

“Definitely,” Kelly added. “I’ve never been that into doing my homework, anyway.”

I had to admit, my interest level was slowly rising. The idea of kicking Jesse’s butt was pretty appealing. “So you’re saying that this could be like a revenge thing?” I asked, warming to the thought.

“That’s
exactly
what I’m saying,” Kelly said, breaking into a crafty grin.

“I see,” I said, drumming my fingernails on the coffee table as I sailed off in concentration. “I see.”

“So will you do it? Please?” Kelly begged, her voice rising to a squeak. “Pretty please with an extra scoop of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream?”

“And a cherry on top,” I countered.

She nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. As many cherries as you want.” She clapped her hands together in excitement. Her enthusiasm was wreaking havoc on her carefully cultivated cynicism, I noted.

“No promises,” I said, waving my hand at her. “Not yet.”

“But you’ll think about it?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“I’ll think about it,” I vowed. “There’s something I need to check first.”

It’s your week, Libra—if you haven’t noticed, things are starting to go your way. Venus is still in retrograde, which means you’ll want to avoid making any big decisions in love-land, but Saturn’s aura is burning bright: Creative energy is yours to tap! Fun and games are more fun, now. You’re on a roll!

I called Kelly from home after I’d had a chance to check my horoscope online. The stars wouldn’t steer me wrong, I knew.