Lucky Me

by Saba Kapur

  “No, it’s Ao Jie Kai’s. He dropped it before he ran off.”

  Milo walked around the car, back to me. He looked at the phone in my hand, then up at me.

  “I didn’t know you could make a song your ringtone on that phone,” Milo said, biting his lip from laughing out loud.

  “You can download ringtones,” I explained, hoping desperately that David, whoever he was, would have the good sense not to call back. “It’s pretty easy.”

  “I also didn’t know you could fit a phone in . . .” Milo said, attempting to look serious. “There.”

  Oh God, he was actually making fun of me! Which was terrible. Absolutely the suckiest thing that could have happened, short of Milo telling me that he was married.

  “You know,” I began all serious, as if I were explaining the laws of physics to him. “Bras . . . can be very interesting objects. They’re great for those days when you just don’t feel like taking a bag.”

  Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I knew I was I was digging my own grave. But I couldn’t stop them! They just kept flowing out, as if I had suddenly been possessed by the romantically challenged devil!

  “Is that so?” Milo replied, giving me a mockingly serious look in return. He took a step toward me.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, nodding my head violently. “I mean, sometimes you can lose coins in there, but then you just jump around a little, or bend over. Of course, that’s always awkward in public, but most women will understand.”

  I was mentally yelling at myself to abort the whole plan and just stop talking, but clearly some sick part of my brain just loved to watch me crash and burn. It was even worse than the British accent!

  Milo shook his head in disbelief, like he just couldn’t believe I was that big of an idiot. “I just know I’m going to regret this,” he said, grinning as he took another step closer.

  I had no clue what he was talking about, so I stupidly decided to continue my “Bras for Dummies” lecture.

  “You know, they’re also useful for storing tissues and bobby pins. You just slide them in and—”

  I never got to finish that sentence because Milo backed me into his car, wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In fairy tales and storybooks, when the Prince kisses the girl at the end, fireworks explode above them and there are violins all around, playing romantic melodies. In real life, there are no violins and no fireworks, but sweet lord, it’s pretty amazing all the same. Even though the kiss probably lasted for like, ten seconds, it was probably the happiest I’d ever felt. Brendan had never kissed me like that. Compared to Milo, kissing Brendan was like kissing your grandma.

  Of course, it was a slight inconvenience that I had two phones in my hands. I was slammed up against his car while Milo kissed the crap out of me, and all I could focus on was not whacking him over the head or dropping one of the phones in case it accidently slid out of my hands. When he did finally release me I had to muster up all the strength I had in my body not to collapse from pure euphoria. Milo and I just looked at each other for a few seconds and we both did some breathing. And then my brain decided it hated me a little more than usual and lifted my fingers up to his lips so I could wipe away some of the lipstick that had smudged onto him. Which, let me tell you, is not easy to accomplish with both hands full. He looked like he wanted to smile, but instead he went all rigid and then suggested we go home. Just like that, as though he hadn’t just pressed me up against his vehicle and stuck his tongue in my mouth! I’m not going to lie, that was crushing. I mean kissing me couldn’t have been that bad, right? But the look on his face had been that of slight alarm. And the ship had clearly sailed on frozen yogurt, which was the most disappointing part of it all.

  To make matters worse, Jack hadn’t taken the news well at all when I told him. His eyes bugged out so wide, I was scared they might just fall out of their sockets. He kept yelling about how unprofessional that was, and how Milo had clearly taken advantage of me the moment he had gotten me alone. And then he went all meathead macho man and started rolling his eyes a lot. I couldn’t tell Aria and Veronica; it would be impossible to explain without getting into detail about the bigger situation. Besides, they already thought it was incredibly suspicious that I had missed Brendan’s going-away party, so there was no point even bringing up Milo. I definitely couldn’t tell my parents, and I doubted Anya would care. So I was left to cherish my amazing kiss by myself.

  In fact, I was starting to question if I had dreamt the whole thing when Milo didn’t call me the next day, or the day after that. I mean, it’s not like I was expecting him to show up at my doorstep with a dozen roses, get down on one knee and propose or anything. But still, one rose would have been appreciated. Or a text. A post-it note even. By the time I showed up for my first Miss Golden Globe rehearsal on Tuesday, I had driven Jack completely insane with my questioning about why he hadn’t called. My favorite theory was that he was so in love with me, he forgot how to dial my number.

  Luckily for me, Carol Beaufort was doing her best to keep me busy. I had taken all but one step inside the Beverly Hilton Hotel’s grand hall when I had an evening gown two sizes too big for me thrust into my arms, and strict instructions to go change in the bathroom immediately. I gave myself a mental high-five for remembering to wear a pair of heels, just like she had requested, or else she may have had a seizure brought on by stress. Carol was a woman consumed by her stress, and very eager to take it out on me.

  Dad had finally decided it was time for me to stop hiding out at home and sent me back to school. I think he figured I was getting into less trouble when I was distracted by algebra. Of course, I’d only returned for like, two days before my first day of training for Miss Golden Globe began. Dad had flat out refused when I finally forced him to make a decision on letting me do it. But Mom had conveniently stepped in and said she already accepted on my behalf, which meant there was no way of backing out. God, I love that woman a little extra sometimes. Needless to say, my father had been less than pleased. But he sucked it up, played some golf, drank some wine, and kept his opinions to himself.

  The best part was I had finally been able to tell my two best friends about one of the many crazy things that were happening in my life. It also provided me with the perfect excuse for missing school and acting super sketchy. It was all about manipulating the facts, which was something I was getting pretty good at. Aria had practically fainted when I told her Dylan Watson, son of action star Dean Watson, was Mr. Golden Globes. She’d always had a soft spot for him after seeing him at the beach once. I was freaking out too; that boy is fine. But of course, my heart was set on a dreamy police cadet that refused to call me after a life-changing kiss. Well done to me.

  As it turns out, the role of Miss Golden Globe wasn’t nearly as fun as I had hoped it would be. All I had to do was walk, smile, and hand a beautiful person a statue, then repeat the whole process. It wasn’t rocket science, from where I was standing. Some people clearly disagreed.

  “Gia,” Carol sighed, rubbing her temples with her index fingers, trying desperately to keep calm. “That’s the seventh time you’ve almost tripped and fallen flat on your face. I thought you said you were comfortable in heels!”

  “I am!” I cried, and Carol sighed again. “It’s the stupid dress. It’s super flowy and it’s way too big.”

  “Well I’m sorry!” she snapped. “But I didn’t have time to get your exact measurements!”

  “Jeez, relax!” I told her. “Don’t worry, I got this. I was born to walk on this stage. It’s in my blood.”

  I gave her what I thought was my friendliest reassuring smile, but she took one look at it at grimaced so violently, I actually had to take a step back so she wouldn’t hit me.

  “Everyone, take a two minute break. I’ll be right back!”

  I watched Carol storm off stage, pushing
her meek assistants out of the way. I turned to Dylan with a frustrated sigh and he reassured me that she wasn’t always that crazy; she was just really stressed out. I suggested that she needed to loosen that painfully tight bun she had forced her thin, brown hair into, as it was probably adding to the craziness. Dylan went to go grab himself a bottle of water and I took the opportunity to climb down the stage in the most unlady-like manner and waddle over to Jack, who was immersed in his phone. I sank into the seat next to him with a sigh.

  “I’m so done,” I declared. “I hate this dress. I hate Carol. I hate it all, and it’s only been one rehearsal! Take me home!”

  Jack put his phone on his lap and looked at me. “Do it for Clooney.”

  “Oh trust me, he’s the only reason I’m doing this.”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said, watching workmen move around lighting equipment across the room. “I kind of like Carol.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I said.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “This is crazy!” I cried. “Neither Milo nor Dr. D have called and I have to miss half of school tomorrow because dragon lady wants me back here at eight in the morning. I’m supposed to film something stupid about me looking for the right pair of shoes for the award show, or something. Which, may I add, is ridiculous because I don’t even have a dress yet! Then I have some press conference on Thursday, which means Dad has to come with me, because Mom’s flying out tomorrow. Which also means Dad’s going to be a total wreck, as usual, and make me look bad in front of everyone! And I have a history test this Friday.”

  “You know,” Jack said, after listening quietly while I babbled, “I have to go to all these crazy events with you. So we’re kind of in the same boat here. Plus, I don’t get some fancy, prestigious title and a flowy dress. So suck it up, Princess.”

  “Remind me to hit you later on.”

  “I’ll pencil it into your day planner.” Jack’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen briefly before lifting it up to his ear. “Cadet Fells, what can I do for you?”

  My head snapped to attention, as I looked up to see Jack smiling at me. “Oh my God!” I hissed, and Jack put a finger to his lips, motioning for me to be quiet.

  Why had he called Jack instead of me? Probably to ask if Jack knew any good florists so he could send me flowers. Or maybe he’d lost my number and was asking Jack to text it to him.

  “Yeah, right now is a good time to talk,” Jack told Milo, and I practically jumped onto Jack’s lap.

  “Is he asking for me? Does he want to talk to me?” I whispered fiercely.

  Jack put his hand on my face and pushed me away. I pushed him off me and he replaced his hand on my face immediately afterwards, clearly enjoying my desperation to hear his conversation with Milo.

  I watched Jack nod and say, “Uh-huh,” “yeah,” and “okay, sure” every two seconds as I struggled with his hand. My questions began the moment he hung up.

  “What did he say? Did he talk about me? Did he want to talk to me? Should I call him? Should I text him?”

  Jack raised his eyebrows and said, “Wow. You’re really pathetic.”

  “Jack!”

  “Relax, crazy! No, he didn’t want to talk to you. He was calling about Ao Jie Kai’s phone.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “He said everything seems pretty normal. No creepy contacts called ‘Evil Genius,’ no psycho stalker photos of you crossing the street. Your phone number isn’t even in there. He definitely works at the Dumpling Hospital, because he’s got the number listed as ‘work.’ And the people he calls most often are his frat brothers, his mother and some girl called Claudia.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “How should I know?” Jack replied, looking at me as if I had just asked him why the sky was blue. “Milo said the police are looking into it, but they have a feeling it’s the girl in those photographs with him.”

  I thought about this new information silently for a minute, hoping desperately something would come from me stealing Ao Jie Kai’s phone. I was almost certain that investigating a stolen phone wasn’t completely legitimate, but hey, I was no cop. I’d leave all the moral decisions to the men in uniforms.

  “So he didn’t want to talk to me at all?” I asked, trying not to sound as crushed as I was feeling.

  “That’s it, we’re getting you therapy.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” I exclaimed. “He was supposed to be adorable and take me to a carnival and buy me a huge stuffed toy while I looked all cute and ate cotton candy!”

  “Does L.A. even have carnivals?” Jack asked, looking more pained by the minute.

  “Shut up, that’s not the point. The point is, it wasn’t meant to go down like this!”

  I couldn’t understand it. Milo definitely knew I’d be around Jack, so to call him and not me just didn’t make any sense. He didn’t even like Jack! He always called me with updates. Hell, I doubt Dad knew as much as I did about the investigation. As far as I was concerned I hadn’t done anything wrong. Or had I? Maybe I injured his spine with my phone when I tried to stop it from slipping. But he would have mentioned something right then, right? Maybe I was a horrible kisser. Brendan hadn’t minded it that much. But he was also an aspiring cowboy, so what did he know?

  “Alright people,” Carol barked, cutting into my self-destructive thoughts. “We only have the venue for two more hours before the rehearsal for the opening monologue starts. So please, let’s try to make this work.”

  I turned to Jack with a groan. “Two more hours? Kill me now.”

  I rose from my chair to walk toward the stage but Jack caught my wrist, yanking me back.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Jack said, giving me an excited look. “I was talking to one of those girls with those headsets on, and she told me who the father is. You know, the last girl who got pregnant? Her baby. Want to know who it is?”

  I gave Jack an incredulous look. “My life is total mess and now I have to go make a fool of myself in front of a descendant of the Kennedy family for another two hours, and you want to tell me some stupid piece of gossip?”

  Jack blinked at me and said, “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “MISS WINTERS.”

  Carol’s vein on her forehead was aggressively pulsing and she looked just about whack me over the head with her clipboard. So I did some exaggerated sighing, collected the hem of the overly flowy dress in my hands, and made my way slowly up the stage stairs.

  “One hundred and nineteen minutes to go,” I sighed.

  “And counting,” Dylan whispered back.

  __________

  By the time Thursday came around and Milo still hadn’t called, I had gone from crazy obsessed to borderline delusional. I was suffering under the amount of studying I needed to get done and Brendan was clearly mad at me for missing his farewell party because he wasn’t answering any of my calls. On top of that, Dr. D hadn’t so much had sent me a winky-smiley face emoticon, and I realized that him not calling me was far scarier than him actually being in contact. So neither my ex-boyfriend, my future boyfriend, nor my stalker wanted to talk to me on the phone. If that isn’t the most depressing thing you’ve ever heard, then you’re lying to yourself.

  As if it wasn’t bad enough that I was practically being shunned by most of the men of my life, the most dominant male, my father, continued to prove his poor social skills at the press conference for Miss Golden Globe. By the time it was over and the honorary luncheon began, my jaw was about to fall off from all my fake smiling. The press conference itself hadn’t lasted long at all, but the flashing camera lenses and eager reporters shooting questions at me made me realize why my dad hates leaving the house. By comparison, I was seriously a nobody. I was popular only by association, yet everyone seemed to falling over their feet to t
ake my picture. I couldn’t even imagine how they felt about my dad.

  A reporter had asked me about whether or not I was worried that I wouldn’t live up to my parents’ expectations, to which I replied with slight panic. I hadn’t even considered that until they had asked me! It was Freud all over again. So instead I awkwardly told them I was most scared about falling on my face, which was the truth. Hopefully now everyone thought I was endearing and not completely incompetent.

  I was standing in a Calvin Klein dress that was probably a size too small, but at least it made me look like I had some body shape, rather than just a twig. The luncheon seemed a little more like a lunch-off, because it had been a good thirty minutes and I hadn’t seen a crumb of food. I felt like I had barely eaten in like, a year, seeing as Mom had got us all on a “clean eating” scheme so that I could look “fit and fabulous” for the big day. At least now that she was back in New York she couldn’t monitor how many bland salad leaves I had to shove down my throat.

  I was pretty much losing the will to live when Jack finally managed to help me escape the tedious conversations with the random celebrities I didn’t know, as well as the mini photoshoot done with the Miss Golden Globes from the last three years. They all seemed to think the opportunity was the best thing that had ever happened to them, and kept going on about how prestigious it was. Truthfully, the experience so far had been a bit of a letdown. It was definitely exciting and I knew I would feel differently on the actual night, but Carol never stopped yelling, and with so many distractions buzzing through my mind, I couldn’t concentrate. The other girls never had to worry about a Jodie Foster movie-style stalker and his little waiter minion harassing them at all times of the day!

  “I need to talk to you,” Jack said, hooking his hand around my elbow and dragging me to a corner.

  “Oh thank God,” I sighed with relief. “If I have to pretend I know these people for one more second, I’m going to go insane. Plus, they haven’t served the food yet, and I’m like dying here.”