One day in early March, John returned home with papers for her: a birth certificate, a passport, and a social security card, all under the name of Alaina Cadence.
“This is really you now, kiddo. Alaina Cadence. Nice, right? You can use these to sign up for your high school equivalency, to take your SAT—and to apply to college. What do you think?”
“How did you get these?”
“Priscilla. She’s a real gem.”
Lucky examined the birth certificate and thumbed through the passport. The possibilities dizzied her: not just school, not just college—but travel. She could go anywhere, do anything, with these papers. “Dad, I… don’t know what to say.”
“Ah, just start with thank you.”
“Thank you,” she said. But she also wanted to ask questions. What do you do for her, over there at the “call center”? Why do you tell me I need to make myself scarce when she comes here for your “meetings”? Why won’t Reyes ever look me in the eye?
She never asked any of this. And one day, she would come to regret it.
* * *
Lucky passed the high school equivalency test, and then started studying for the SAT. It was getting warmer, which to Lucky meant her time was running out: she had to take the test and apply to colleges within a month. She pilfered a bikini from a stall near their boat, and often brought her books and a towel onto the sand with her. Her skin turned golden in the California sunshine; her red hair turned paler, kissed with streaks. It tumbled down her back, almost to her waist.
“Reyes says you’re getting a lot of attention out there on the beach,” her father said to her one night.
“What, is Reyes spying on me?”
“I asked her to keep an eye out for you. She’s street smart, knows what to look out for around here. Lucky, you should be nicer to her. Pay her a little bit of attention.”
“Pay her attention when? I never see her. You’re either working with her, and you don’t want me around, or having your meetings with her and Priscilla, and you don’t want me around. Do you even work at the restaurant anymore?”
“I do two shifts a week.”
“I barely know you anymore, Dad. Reyes probably knows you better than I do.”
Her father sighed. “Don’t be jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“She’s not a bad kid. She’s just had a rough life. You and Reyes would be great friends, I think, if you’d just give her a chance.”
Lucky had never had a true friend—not since Steph, and that hadn’t been real. She told herself she was waiting for college. Alaina Cadence was going to have tons of friends in college.
“I need to go, kiddo. Back to work for me. How’s the studying?”
“Going great,” Lucky said, staring down at her book.
Lucky got a perfect 1600 on her SAT. She finished her college applications just in time. “With that score, you can go to college wherever you want,” her father said—but he sounded nervous now. There was money in the lockbox, but not enough, not yet. “Where do you want to go?”
“We should probably stay here, live here,” Lucky said. “It’s more practical.” She looked away from her father’s obvious relief and tried not to think of all the colleges she wanted to apply to. “The University of San Francisco is only half an hour away by bus, and they have an accounting program in the management school. That’s what I want to do.”
“An accountant? But you love books, you love reading, you could do anything you wanted, anything in the world. That, really? It’s such a…” He trailed off.
“Boring job? Boring life path? Has it ever occurred to you that boring and safe is exactly what I want? Also, I love numbers. I love their… predictability.”
“I didn’t know this about you.”
“We don’t talk much, lately.”
Doing these normal things—applying to college, getting accepted, making the preparations to go there—gave Lucky a deep and calming sense of satisfaction she had never experienced before. She began to see a map laid out before her, much like the one they had consulted throughout her childhood, trying to decide which town to hit up next. But now, it felt like a path she was controlling herself. College, the certificates she needed to become an accountant, her own business or a job at a large firm—she had a plan, and for once, it didn’t include cheating.
* * *
It was June. Lucky put on her bikini, took out her Discman and popped her earbuds in her ears. Bikini Kill started screaming about liars. She shoved a twenty-dollar bill in the pocket of her denim shorts, grabbed a book, left the boat, and walked down to the pier. This was becoming her daily routine on the days she wasn’t hostessing at the restaurant. She didn’t have to study anymore and had nothing else to do.
Today, as she sat reading, a group of teens caught her eye. There were many small crowds of friends who frequented the pier, and some of them were growing familiar to her. One group in particular always drew her eye. She tried not to feel jealous of their expensive-looking clothes and the gadgets and accessories they seemed to take for granted.
There was a cute boy in the group with a good tan and brown hair streaked with California blond. She had walked by him and his crew of six, sometimes seven, a mix of boys and girls, almost every day that early summer. He was the only one who ever looked her way. When he watched her, she understood what it meant to say your heart had skipped a beat.
Today, he smiled at her and she felt shy; she ducked her face back behind the collection of Lucia Berlin short stories she was reading, and she regretted her shyness immediately. What would it be like to be one of those girls in his group?