Lucky in Love Page 3

  “I like Mexican food,” I protested. Especially when it was an affordable place where my parents didn’t have to spend too much.

  “Really?”

  I gave Beau a look so he’d stop pestering me, and we all got out of the car.

  After we were seated, the waitress came by, a girl from my school that I didn’t know very well. Her name was Lupita and she was a senior like me. “Hi,” she said, a friendly smile on her face. “Maddie, right?”

  “Yes. Hi.” She knew my name. In that moment I felt this weird urge to invite her over to my party later. I didn’t. I ordered flautas instead. I wondered if that’s how parties got oversized, this generous feeling of the party-thrower to have everyone they even remotely knew come join in on the plan.

  “It’s Maddie’s birthday today,” Mom told her.

  “Oh! Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks. I don’t want anyone singing to me or anything,” I said, not sure if they did that here. But it seemed like every restaurant did.

  Lupita winked at my mom. “Okay, we won’t.”

  Great. The whole waitstaff was going to sing to me.

  The food came fast. My plate nearly overflowed with rice, beans, and fried goodness. I knew I liked Mexican food. We just didn’t get it very often. I grabbed my fork and dug in.

  Halfway through my plate, Mom smiled at me. “This doesn’t quite match your theme for today.”

  “My theme?”

  “Sugar. You started the day with Cookie Crisp and will end it with a coffee table full of candy.”

  “True,” I said.

  “Oh,” my brother said. “Was that Cookie Crisp yours? Sorry.”

  “Did you eat her cereal?” Mom asked.

  “I forgot that tradition.”

  “You forgot that tradition?” Mom snapped. “You’ve had it for nineteen years of your life and you just forgot it? Nice.”

  “Sorry I don’t remember every stupid thing we ever do.”

  “Stupid?” Mom asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “You know what I mean. I’m just trying to apologize to my sister for eating her cereal.”

  “Lori, lighten up,” Dad said. Wrong choice of words. Even I knew that.

  “Lighten up? Lighten up? Is ‘light’ the attitude that makes you throw out important letters?”

  “Seriously?” Dad said.

  “Yes, seriously. That isn’t exactly the attitude I’d like to adopt.”

  “Mom, it’s fine,” I said.

  “See, even your daughter doesn’t care,” Dad argued, pointing at me with a tortilla chip. “Maybe you shouldn’t turn me into an evil monster every time something little happens, Lori.”

  “Our definition of little is very different. And maybe you shouldn’t constantly pick the opposite side from me in an argument. A little support every once in a while would be nice,” Mom huffed.

  “I didn’t realize we were picking sides,” he said.

  “You know what I mean. You purposely contradict me.”

  I glanced to my left, where the other table of people sat a little too close to keep this argument private. And I could tell it definitely wasn’t private by the way they were all looking at us.

  “Shh,” I said. “Let’s not fight.”

  My dad wasn’t listening to me, he was staring at my mom with that hard look he often had on his face. “I don’t do it on purpose,” he told her, not quieting his voice at all. “I don’t always have to agree with you.”

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear.” Mom slammed her glass down a little too hard on the table and soda splashed onto her hand.

  “Can you not do this here, Lori? On Maddie’s birthday,” Dad said.

  “Me? This is now all me? You have no part in this?”

  I put my fork down.

  “All this over a box of Cookie Crisp?” my brother chimed in.

  “Stop. Please just stop,” I said.

  And at that moment what seemed like the entire staff of the restaurant surrounded our table and began to sing “Happy Birthday” to me.

  I tried not to let my face turn redder as they placed a churro and scoop of vanilla ice cream on the table in front of me. I smiled politely until they were gone. I picked up my spoon and took a small bite of the ice cream. It was sprinkled with cinnamon, and the sweetness made my cheeks hurt.

  In the amount of time it took a group of strangers to sing “Happy Birthday,” Mom and Dad had calmed down. Mom put a wrapped package on the table in front of me. It was a rectangular box just the right size to hold a cell phone. I’d been hinting that I needed a new one for a year. Anticipation tingled in me. I pushed the ice cream aside and quickly tore open the wrapping. I lifted the lid and stared at the contents.

  “Happy birthday, honey,” Mom said, squeezing my arm.

  It was a pair of yellow socks. With sloths on them.

  “I saw those the other day and I thought of you. I had Dad pick them up this morning,” Mom said, with a single clap. “Because sloths are your favorite, right?”

  “Um … ” They had tried. With a limited budget my parents had tried and I knew that. So I held my tongue about how our zoo didn’t even have sloths and smiled. “Thank you. I love them!”

  Dad handed Lupita his credit card, then looked at me. “I know it’s not much. And next year, when I’m working again … ”

  I squeezed his hand. It wasn’t a guarantee that Dad would have a job by next year, but of course I didn’t say that. “Thanks, guys,” I said softly.

  “I didn’t get you anything because my company is your present,” Beau said while shoveling the last bite of rice into his mouth.

  I threw my straw at his head and he laughed.

  Lupita leaned down next to Dad. She spoke quietly, but I could hear her say, “Um, sir, your card was declined.”

  I felt my face heat up again. I hoped Lupita didn’t like to share this kind of news at school. Our whole visit was turning out disastrous. I pulled out my debit card. “I think I have at least fifty-five in the bank right now,” I whispered to Dad, passing him the card.

  “I’ll pay you back on payday,” my mom said, her eyes on the table in front of her.

  I nodded. I was glad the prices at Claudia’s were so reasonable. Otherwise I might have had to spend my birthday waiting tables to pay off the bill from my birthday lunch.

  At ten minutes after seven, I started to worry. Blaire was known for her punctuality and Elise normally texted when she was running late. I opened the front door and looked up and down the street. Still no cars. Still no friends. My parents had excused themselves to their bedroom to give my friends and me some privacy and I could hear the loud sounds of the movie they were watching.

  I opened the tub of Red Vines I had bought, took one out, and plopped down on the couch. I bit off both ends of the licorice and blew through it. I took a pink sour Skittle out of the bowl and placed it on the table. Then I used my licorice straw to blow the Skittle until it fell off the opposite end of the coffee table. I repeated this with a Skittle of each color because apparently this is what eighteen-year-olds did. I dropped the Red Vine on the table. I didn’t even like Red Vines.

  I surveyed all the different bowls of snacks. I didn’t like most of this food. I’d gotten my friends’ favorites. I groaned and flopped back on the couch. Where was everyone? Had they forgotten?

  I held my phone in my hands, staring at the group text I’d brought up. Did I really have to beg my friends to come over? I shouldn’t have to remind them. I had sent them a fancy invitation. We’d just talked about it the day before!

  If they weren’t here, there was a good reason. They both had some sort of family emergency. That had to be it.

  Wait. What if that was it? I swallowed my pride and sent a text.

  Are you both okay? Should I put the candy away or are you just running late?

  When there was no reply five minutes later, I sighed. I could feel sorry for myself. It was my birthday, after all.

  I
would get high on sugar and have a party for one. I scanned the candy again. There was nothing I wanted. I hadn’t even bought Reese’s.

  I stood, determined to remedy this.

  “It’s my favorite pessimist,” Maxine from the Mini-mart said.

  “Pessimist?” I asked, trying to remember what I’d said to earn that title.

  She pointed at the Powerball sign next to the register that now said fifty million. “Remember? You have a better chance of being struck by lightning?”

  “Oh. Right. I think you mean ‘realist,’ but whatever.”

  “So I take it you’re still not here to buy a ticket.”

  I held up my king-sized bag of Reese’s. “Just this.”

  “That’s right. You’re not eighteen yet, anyway.”

  “Actually, I am eighteen now. And you’re right, give me a Powerball ticket.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Yes. Why not? Luck is on my side today.” I almost laughed when I said it because it was so far from the truth.

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “How much is it?” I asked, realizing I might not have enough money.

  “Two dollars a ticket. How many do you want?”

  I had only a little over two dollars left in my account. The party candy and paying for lunch had depleted my stash. I dropped the bag of Reese’s back with the other candy. “Just one, please.”

  Maxine rang me up and handed me a small square of paper that had several printed numbers on it. I stared at them. What was I thinking? Now I didn’t even have any candy, and I was beyond broke.

  “The drawing is tonight,” she called after me as I headed for the door.

  I waved but didn’t turn. What was I even supposed to do with this ticket? Did I have to enter it into some drawing? Register it somewhere? I tucked it in my pocket. “Happy birthday to me,” I mumbled. “You got a two-dollar piece of paper.”

  Empty-handed, I sat on the bumper of my car for a moment and looked up at the dark sky. It was hard to see the stars in the city, but the moon wasn’t out tonight so I could see the brighter ones.

  A car pulled into the lot and flashed its lights at me. Was I in the way? I held up my hands and moved around the side of my car. The other car parked and just as I was about to open my car door to leave, I realized who the driver was. He hopped out with a big smile on his face.

  “Maddie!”

  “Seth! You do exist outside of the zoo!”

  He smiled. “Barely.”

  It was funny to see him in something other than his gray zoo T-shirt. He wore cuffed blue jeans and a red hoodie. Like a regular guy, not just a member of my zoo world. His dark eyes were reflecting the parking lot lights.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Getting myself a lot of caffeine because I’m about to pull a Lord of the Rings all-nighter with my brother.”

  “Fun. So this means you’re free of your sentence?”

  “No. Still grounded.” He patted his pockets as if to show me he had no phone. “This is why I’m about to watch movies with my brother.”

  I smiled.

  “Hey,” Seth said. “I thought you were having a birthday party tonight. Wait … it’s your birthday. Happy birthday!” He gave me a big hug and I laughed. He let me go, then waited for me to respond.

  I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb, as if that would explain where everyone was. “Yeah, I was, I am. A really fun, cool birthday party.”

  He lowered his brows and looked over my shoulder. “Is it happening over there somewhere? That dark alley maybe?”

  “Um. At my house. I left to get … ” I trailed off because I had nothing in my hands. “I was going to get candy but I didn’t bring enough money.”

  Seth nodded. “I am going to buy you candy. For your birthday.”

  “No, that’s okay—”

  “I am. It’s too late.” He started walking backward to the door. “You should tell me your favorite now or I’ll come back with my favorite.”

  “Reese’s Pieces!” I called.

  “Ah. Like E.T.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right back.” He opened the door and went inside.

  E.T. Was that an acronym for something? Extra time? Everything? Eat … things?

  The store was brightly lit, so I stood outside and watched as Seth filled a massive Styrofoam cup with soda. Then he walked to the candy aisle and the amount of time it took him to find Reese’s let me know he didn’t buy them very often. Then he was at the register talking to the insulting checkout lady. She didn’t seem to have anything insulting to say to him, though. She laughed and so did he. Seth was easy to laugh with so it didn’t surprise me. Then he was back, walking toward me.

  He placed the bag of Reese’s Pieces in my hand. “Happy birthday, Maddie.”

  For some reason that simple act made my eyes sting with tears. I held them in, knowing how embarrassing it would be if I started crying right now, over a bag of candy. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, when I really wanted to say, No, hang out with me, don’t leave me alone. A long crack ran along the asphalt between us, like a dividing line, and I had the urge to jump over it, join him on his side of the line. Instead, I toed it with my purple ballet flat.

  “What does E.T. stand for?” I finally asked.

  “Tell me you’ve seen that movie before.”

  “Oh. Duh. E.T. The movie. About that little alien guy, right?”

  “Right.”

  “No, I haven’t seen it.”

  Seth pointed to my candy. “If that’s your favorite candy, you better remedy that immediately.”

  I laughed. “Is it in the movie?”

  “Yes. That little alien guy eats them.”

  “Smart guy.”

  Seth sat on the bumper of my car and took a long drink from his soda. His feet were out in front of him, his shoulders hunched a bit. He patted the bumper next to him.

  “I don’t know if my car’s bumper can handle our combined weight.”

  He patted his flat stomach. “What are you trying to say?”

  “No, you’re, I … ”

  “I’m joking, Maddie.”

  “I know,” I said, but my cheeks still went hot.

  He smiled, then stood. “Hold this for a second.” He handed me his big drink and went around to the driver’s side. He began drawing something on my dusty car window.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  His finger moved across the window. “Is Maddie a nickname?” he asked.

  “Yes, short for Madeleine, spelled and pronounced the French way.”

  “I have no idea how the French spell or pronounce things.”

  “It’s spelled L-E-I-N-E at the end but pronounced Lynn versus Line.”

  “Ah. I see, very French.”

  I laughed. “Why did you want to know?”

  “No reason.” He kept drawing or writing or doing whatever it was he was doing on my window that I couldn’t see because it was dark and his body was blocking half of it. “Why is it spelled and pronounced the French way?” he asked.

  “My dad traveled a lot before he got married.” Another reason why he was now dissatisfied with his life. He never said as much, but when he talked about his traveling days it was always in reverent awe.

  Seth stayed at the window for several more minutes.

  “If you take much longer, I will be forced to drink some of your soda,” I threatened.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Really? You don’t seem like the type.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m sure you have some statistic floating around in your head about mono and high schools.”

  I laughed. He was sort of right. I did have a thing about germs because I knew how easily spreadable they were. But just to prove him wrong, I resisted the urge to wipe the straw with my sleeve and took a long drink so he wouldn’
t think I was uptight. It was Dr Pepper.

  He smiled with a short bow of his head as if to acknowledge his mistake, then turned to face me, still not clearing the way for me to look at whatever he’d done to my window. “Well, I better let you get back to your friends.”

  “Right. My friends.” I handed him his soda.

  “What did they get you?”

  “What?”

  “For your birthday? What presents did you get for your birthday? Aside from my awesome offering, that is.” He pointed at the candy I still held like it was the most precious gift in the world.

  “Oh, um … I’m not sure actually, we haven’t gotten to the gift giving portion of the night.” That was the truth; we hadn’t gotten anywhere close to that. “But I did get a pair of sloth socks earlier.”

  He frowned. “Sloth socks? There are socks made out of … sloth fur?”

  I laughed. “No. They are regular socks with pictures of sloths on them.”

  “But we don’t even have sloths at our zoo.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “And anteaters are your favorite.”

  “I know!”

  “Was it supposed to be ironic?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s say yes.”

  He gave me a half smile. “Right. Well, I’ll see you later, Zoo Maddie.”

  I laughed. “Did you just call me Zoo Maddie?”

  He bit his lip. “Sorry, sometimes that’s how I refer to you and it just slipped.”

  He referred to me in conversations with other people? “Yeah, me too. With you, I mean.”

  “Really?” he asked. “You call me Zoo Maddie?”

  “Funny, Zoo Seth.”

  He smiled. “That is funny that we both call each other that.”

  “Probably because that’s the only place we ever see each other.”

  “Until now,” Seth pointed out. “The stars have aligned.”

  I looked up at the sky like I thought his statement might actually be true, then met his eyes again. “Right. Until now.”

  He took a few steps toward his car. “Speaking of the zoo, are you coming to the staff meeting tomorrow?” I nodded as he opened his car door. “Cool. See you then,” he said, getting inside.

  I almost wanted to ask him to stay. I could’ve fessed up about my missing friends, but it would just make me sound pathetic and possibly make him feel like he had to entertain me. But there was nothing he could do. He was grounded. It wasn’t like I could beg him to let me in on his movie marathon or make him stand with me in this parking lot for hours.