“Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Mrs. Stiles tries to calm me. “Do they have cell phones?”
Yes! Call their cell phones. My index finger aims at the keypad, ready to jab out the numbers, and then I realize I don’t know them. They were programmed into my cell phone; I never had to memorize them. My chest threatens to burst.
No home phone, no Mom phone, no Dad phone. My mind wrings its hands. Then it dawns on me that there is one number etched in my brain since forever.
With slow, deliberate movements, I dial Amanda’s house.
Chapter 33
Mrs. Stiles handles everything from there. She calls around the shops and before long, Mrs. Grant appears in the doorway looking as limp as unstarched laundry. The other girls had told her I’d left before them for the bus. When the teachers did a head count, they discovered they were minus one Hailee Richardson. Mrs. Grant waved the bus off and pounded doors and the pavement looking for me until she came upon a store manager who’d just received Mrs. Stiles’s alert. “Thank God you’re all right,” Mrs. Grant says, looking as wiped out as I feel. Then she takes Mrs. Stiles’s hand in both of hers. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Stiles takes care of her, too, and we’re all sitting in the back room a couple hours later when the shop door chimes, signaling someone has wandered in.
“Hello?”
Amanda’s mom! I pop off the love seat, dart through the shop, and launch myself into Mrs. Burns’s arms. She hugs me and pats my back, and it’s almost as good as having my own mom’s arms wrapped around me.
I lift my head and start to rattle off my tale of woe. Then I spot Amanda in the doorway, crossed arms, mad eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, looking at Mrs. Burns. “I’m sorry you had to drive all the way out here to get me.” I glance at Amanda. “I’m sorry.”
I hang my head and one big fat tear plops onto the floor, leaving a round wet spot.
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Burns says. “We’re just glad you’re okay. I couldn’t get ahold of your parents, but I left them a message and a note on the front door.”
Amanda and I don’t look at each other as the adults chitchat for a few minutes. I hug Mrs. Stiles good-bye, then I’m in the backseat with Amanda heading home. Her mom and Mrs. Grant gab in the front while Amanda and I sit in stony silence.
I try to ignore the quiet between us, but it’s too loud. It fills my ears and breaks my heart. I can’t believe I have any tears left, but here they come. I cover my eyes with my left hand. Sobbing, I hunch over like a baby curling in her sleep.
“Hailee,” Amanda murmurs and leans closer.
All the salt from tears and sweat have made my face sticky. I wipe my nose with my bare arm, then face her.
She starts crying. “Something could’ve happened to you!”
I start crying again. “I know!”
We cry together for a few minutes, then laugh at our crying, which makes us cry and laugh again.
Rubbing both eyes, Amanda looks straight at me. It’s getting dark, but I can still see her. She starts to say something, changes her mind, then changes it again and says, “I was so mad at you. It was like … you were getting stuck-up just because you’re so rich and popular now. And you were sort of mean to me at Emily’s sleepover.”
I think of how embarrassed I was at Emily’s party—embarrassed of Amanda’s clothes and embarrassed of Amanda’s conversation—and then I see myself acting like I was all that.
Then Amanda says, “And you called me a—” She cuts herself off. “Well, you know what you called me,” she says.
Witch with a B.
I hear myself saying those words and I cringe. The sharp tip of my poisonous words pierces my heart. They must still hurt Amanda, too, because she straightens away from me.
Silence sits between us on the seat, laughing at how it separates us.
I am guilty as charged. My crimes are many and some are secret, but there’s one person who knows about all of them. In my head, I ask God to forgive me for Happy Hannah Hearts, eggs, and witch with a B. I don’t ask him to forgive me for kicking Alexis in the shins; the Bible says God loves justice, so you know he had to love that.
Mom says forgiveness is divine, but Amanda is human and she doesn’t have to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.
I feel like I did when I egged Emily’s house, only this time, I will try to clean up the mess I made. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t move or say anything.
She’s still my best friend. If you don’t believe that, then just ask yourself why is she in this car right now? It’s like a two- or three-hour trip from Palm Hill; she didn’t have to come, but she did. Don’t worry if you didn’t see that right away—I just realized it myself.
“You are the best friend a person could ever have,” I say. “I’m the witch, not you.”
She looks down, then purses her lips. “You’re not a witch.”
“Neither are you.” My hands clasp in my lap and I look down. “Guess what else? I’m not popular. I just wanted you to think I was. Plus”—and I try to keep the hurt out of my voice—“you have a boyfriend now and you asked him to do your last project with you. I thought you and I were going to do them together.”
Her mouth parts. “But you’ve been busy with Library Club.”
“You’ve been busy with Tanner.”
“Why didn’t you want me at your sleepover?”
Taking a deep breath, I exhale. There’s so much to explain and I am so tired. The windows darken as the highway takes us closer and closer to home. I open my bag and give the little jewelry box to Amanda.
Her hand covers her heart. “For me?”
“I told them I was looking for something special.”
She flips on the side light, then opens the box. “Told who? It’s so pretty! It’s a compass—oh, my gosh—it’s a compass, for the Compass Club! I love it!” She hugs me hard, then fastens the chain around her neck. She tilts the compass and reads it. “We’re heading south,” she says emphatically. “South, Mom—got it?”
“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Burns says. “Now I have a GPS.”
In a robotic voice, Amanda says, “Take next exit for McDonald’s.”
“Go through drive-through. Buy milk shakes.” I speak and move my arms like an automaton. “Use apparatus known as straw to drain container of substance.”
Amanda jerks her arms, lifts her robot voice to her mother. “Milk shakes. Buy some. McDonald’s in point-five miles.”
“Point five,” I drone.
“Milk shakes,” Amanda orders.
“Oh, my gosh, girls!” Mrs. Burns says. “I’m going to buy milk shakes just to hush you two up.”
We break into android laughter. Ten minutes later, Mrs. Burns has her wish and so do we.
Chapter 34
I get two yearbooks at the end of the school year: Palm Middle, which I ordered way back in October; and Magnolia, where I’ll be attending through eighth grade. Amanda passed around my Palm Middle yearbook and had everyone sign it, but her autograph is my favorite. On the page with her photo, she’s written along the gutter where the pages are glued in:
I signed your crack! Ha-ha! Hailee, you are my best friend always and we are going to have the most awesome summer!
Amanda
Magnolia’s yearbook is beautiful. Lying on my stomach on my bed, I pore over the faces of the friends I’ve made this year and read what they’ve written.
We should hang out this summer!
Cynthia
One of my best students!
Ms. Reilly
Have a great summer and keep reading!
Hope to see you in Library Club next year.
Mrs. Weston
I wasn’t able to get Nikki’s signature because her parents took her out early for a trip to Europe. Next year, she’s going to boarding school. I hope she doesn’t get herself into any more trouble.
Ever since St. Augustine, I’ve been trying to think about what makes Nikki di
fferent from girls like Alexis or Megan. I mean, they’re all pretty and they’re all popular, but I think it boils down to this: Nikki has her own problems, but she’s still nice to people. The other girls are mean because they can be mean and they want to be mean and it makes them feel good to make others feel bad.
In my opinion, that’s the worst crime a citizen can commit.
And just so you know, Alexis and Gia got in trouble for causing Mrs. Grant and me to be left behind in St. Augustine. Not only did they get in-school suspensions, they had to write apology letters to me, my parents, Mrs. Grant, and Mrs. Burns.
I sigh into my Magnolia yearbook.
I want so much for Emily’s signature to be on these pages. Flipping over to the sixth graders, I find her student photo. The photographer must have asked her to move her hair off her face. She’s smiling in the picture, like we all do—smiling because we’re told to, smiling because we’re nervous, and smiling because we hope our pictures will turn out well and people, when they look at us later, will point to us and say, Remember her? She was really nice.
Emily and I haven’t talked since the day she shut the door on me.
But I remember her. She was really nice.
Tucking the yearbook under my arm, I jog downstairs. Happy Hannah Hearts sits in the saucer while Libby bangs the musical buttons. I ruffle Libby’s hair, then give Mom a peck on the cheek as she reads the course catalog from the university.
Dad’s been teasing her about being a co-ed, whatever that means. I’m kind of proud of her, too. It takes a lot of guts to start a new school. Mom lowers the catalog and looks over her reading glasses. “Where you off to?”
“Just around,” I say. “On my bike.”
The Silver Flash and I make it to the perfect green grass in record time. From her window, Emily’s flute trills like a bird in summer. I listen for a few minutes, then swipe down my kickstand and walk up to the front door.
I rap my signature knock.
The flute stops.
I wait.
I press my face against the etched glass but I can’t see through it.
I ring the doorbell.
Minutes pass.
Emily isn’t ready to open the door.
That’s okay. My friendship will wait for her. As I turn from her front door, I lay the yearbook down and break off a twig from the bushes. I snap it in two and arrange the halves into an X behind the banister.
* * *
When Dad comes home, we grill outside to celebrate the end of the school year. Dad flips burgers and turns the corn on the cob, but mostly he looks past the grill, smiling at the roof of the garage, where brilliant displays of bright pink bougainvillea explode like fireworks. Mom’s blasting her favorite track on the CD player—a song called “Macarena.” I’m blowing bubbles for Libby when my phone tweedles.
Amanda: Tanner kissed me after school today!
I nearly spill the bubbles. I cap the bottle and leap up.
Me: omg! OMG!
I shake my shoulders and move my hips. Mom catches sight of me, then sticks her right arm out and lifts her left leg. Then left arm out and right leg up. This is the dance for the song. Libby sees what we’re doing and starts bouncing from her knees.
Amanda: Call me!
“Mom!” I roar. “I’ve gotta call Amanda!” Mom waves me off, keeps dancing with Libby.
I prance around the yard and punch in Amanda’s number.
“Hello?” she answers breathlessly.
“It’s me,” I say. “Tell me everything.”
LIST OF THINGS I NEED
1. New bicycle
2. Cell phone
3. New clothes (from where Megan and Drew shop)
4. Full-length mirror
5. TV for my room
6. DVD player for my TV
7. TV stand
8. New furniture for my room
9. Computer
10. Laptop
11. Mansion
12. Butler
13. Horse
14. Yacht
15. Indoor pool
16. Home movie theater
17. Nanny
18. Limo
19. Credit card
20. A movie about a girl who wins the lottery and I star in it
21. Convert attic to a huge bedroom like Emily’s and call it Hailee’s Kingdom
22. Books, but I can put them on my credit card
23. Trampoline
24. Private jet
25. Tree house in backyard and Libby’s not allowed in it
26. Chef
27. Cool sunglasses like Nikki’s
28. Fancy water fountain in the front yard
29. New furniture and decorations for the whole house (no naked lady statues; make sure Mom knows)
30. Bodyguard
31. Disco ball
32. One of those beds that has a slide built onto it, probably bunk beds so Amanda doesn’t have to sleep on the floor when she spends the night
33. Snow machine for in the winter
34. Make the president change Halley’s Comet to Hailee’s Comet
35. A telescope so I can see Hailee’s Comet
36. Dog—cute, not too big
37. Maid (who also has to pick up the dog poop)
Acknowledgments
I am thankful to God for the gifts he gives and the ability to use and enjoy them.
Thank you to my group of young contributors who helped brainstorm ideas for Hailee’s “List of Things I Need” and for their thoughts on the life of a sixth grader: Brooke Haworth, Zachary Haworth, Matthew Haworth, Allie Furnari, Caroline Furnari, Jack Bennett, and Alexandra Eugster. Also, thank you to Benton Wood, the most colorful and dynamic Little League coach I’ve seen since my own father commanded the dugout.
Ted Malawer, as always, and special thanks to Michelle Carr and Steve Haworth for reading the manuscript with great care and thought and giving me honest feedback.
I like to give my editor her own paragraph because I want her to know how much I appreciate her talent. Stacy Cantor Abrams helps me write a better book. I am grateful to work with Stacy and all the people at Walker Books.
And I’m especially grateful to you—the reader—because here I am typing this and there you are reading this, and without you, none of us would be here.
Also by Danette Haworth
Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning
The Summer of Moonlight Secrets
Me & Jack
Copyright © 2012 by Danette Haworth
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages
First published in the United States of America in September 2012
by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
Electronic edition published in September 2012
www.bloomsburykids.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Haworth, Danette.
A whole lot of lucky / Danette Haworth.
p. cm.
Summary: When twelve-year-old Hailee’s family wins the lottery, her life changes in
unexpected—and not always good—ways.
[1. Best friends—Fiction. 2. Friendship—Fiction. 3. Moving, Household—Fiction.
4. Middle schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Lotteries—Fiction. 7. Family
life—Florida—Fiction. 8. Florida—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H31365Wh
o 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011052331
Book design by Regina Roff
ISBN 978-0-80272-393-2 (e-book)
A Whole Lot of Lucky Page 19
