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1.Lucky

Sleep never came naturally for me. So every night, for about an hour or so, I would simply lay in my bed, thinking. Nothing in particular came to mind, just a few random thoughts about life, my future, and so forth.

I looked at the clock and sighed. Three-thirty A.M. I had to be awake at six. Most days, waking up was just as difficult as falling asleep. So I knew I was in for it almost three hours from now, when I had to get up and drag myself to school. Not that I minded. I loved college. It had so much freedom, and was a definite upgrade from high school, which I had hated with a passion.

In high school I was the typical outcast. The pretty-ish shy girl with only a few friends. Or at least that's how people saw me. But overall, I just preferred keeping to myself. I never felt the need to speak unnecessarily. And as far as friends go, I always had a hard time relating to people my age. They were all the same – immature, vain children. I had a difficult time associating with that.

But college suited me much better. Even though I was only three weeks into my first semester, I felt like the people there were far more mature. I still hadn't made any friends there, but I had only started. I was bound to make some friends. Things would change for me, I just knew it.

I swiftly jumped from bed as my alarm clock rang. I ran across the room and to the beeping white box, which was inconveniently located across from my bed and on top of my small television. Quickly, I silenced it. I could hardly stand the annoying sound. I stood there for a minute, slightly dazed from my lack of sleep, and decided that taking a shower would help wake me up. So I stumbled my way to the bathroom.

After my shower I wrapped a towel around my head and walked naked to my bedroom. Nobody was home, so I made no effort to cover up. My parents were always out for work by five-thirty on weekdays. This was a good thing. I hated to see anyone in the morning. Actually, I hated for anyone to see me in the morning. I wasn't a morning person. I always woke up in a bad mood and it took about half and hour after waking for me to calm down.

I opened my closet, in pursuit of something to wear. It was mid-September, and the weather was far past warm, so I pulled out a pair of dark brown shorts and a tank top and dressed quickly. After, I went to the kitchen. Breakfast was a meal I couldn't live without. It wasn't a happy day if I didn't get breakfast. On top of the refrigerator were three boxes of cereal. I poured myself a bowl of my favorite and walked toward the large, rectangular kitchen table. On my way there, I tripped over the corner of the rug. The bowl of cereal was out of my hands and I was headed downward face first.

Suddenly, everything was moving in slow motion. I quickly regained my balance and caught myself before I could fall. Then, without conscious thinking, I reached my hand out and positioned it underneath the cereal bowl and grasped it just before it hit the ground. At that exact moment, time seemed to resume as usual.

I stood dumbfounded for a moment. This was surprising. I was always so clumsy. Normally I would have never caught it, let alone without making a mess. But I did. Maybe my reflexes were making up for all of those times that they hadn't worked before.

I took my bowl and continued to the table. When I finished eating, I went back into the bathroom and pulled out the blow dryer. My hair wasn't drying fast enough and I was running out of time that I needed to get ready. Once it was completely dried, I pulled out the hair straightener from the cabinet under the sink. Usually I would have skipped all of this hair stuff, but after the blow dryer, my hair was all frizzy. I rapidly pulled the hot tool down each section of my hair until it was pin straight. I finished and turned it off surprised at how I hadn't burned myself, especially because I had done it so quickly. Every time I would straighten or curl my hair I wouldn't get away with at least one burn on my neck or hands. Maybe luck was with me today.

When I returned to my room, I noticed that the top of my vanity dresser was cluttered. I looked at the mess and sighed as I sat down in the chair in front of it. I looked at my face in the mirror. My pale skin seemed to be almost glowing today. And it was remarkably clear. I couldn't spot a single blemish. My dark eyes sparkled, showing no sign of my nearly sleepless night. I picked up a brush off of the table and pulled it through my long hair. The dark brown of it was such an odd contrast to my naturally chalky skin. My eyes almost matched the color of my hair, making my ivory skin stand out even more. I pulled out some makeup and began to apply it, curling my eyelashes, then putting on mascara, smoothing on some blush to give me a little color. I stopped at that. There was no need for much makeup today. For some reason, when I looked in the mirror today, I was pleased with myself. I probably could have gone out without doing anything to my face and I would have looked beyond decent. So, with that, I grabbed my book bag and car keys and bounded out the door, hoping my luck would follow.

I crookedly parked my car in the front of the school parking lot. Monday mornings were always busy, so I was glad to have found parking at all. Usually, I would have to park down the street and walk the rest of the way, but today someone pulled out just as my bulky green van approached.

Political Science 101 was my only class today. I enjoyed this class. The workload was light and the professor always kept his lectures short, which allowed us to leave early. And I found the subject interesting. There was nothing like politics to start your day.

I walked across the campus and found my way to room D-101 and entered. Most of the students were already seated. I felt a bit awkward as I found my self entering in front of the whole room. This was a huge class. Probably seventy to ninety students composed this course. Even worse, the classroom arrangement made it a bit more intimidating. The front of the room had a large floor, almost like a stage, where the professor would give his lectures. Then the floor turned into a giant “staircase” ending high up to the back of the wall. On each step of the “staircase” was a row of about ten desks.

Just about everyone had turned their heads to look at me as I came in. I avoided all of their glances and worked my way to an empty seat on the edge of the very back row. I vowed to myself that I would always be just a little early every time from now on to avoid their peculiar stares. I did not like people looking at me. I never did, and I probably never would.

I prepared myself for today's lecture. I pulled out my textbook, a few pieces of paper, and a pen. I set my bag back down, underneath my seat. I leaned back up to position myself correctly in my chair, but as I did this I knocked my textbook and my pen off of my desk. Once again, everything was perfectly clear and in slow motion. My right hand swiftly shot out and grabbed the pen, while my corresponding foot caught my textbook. Time fiercely resumed again. Still shocked, but trying not to attract unwanted attention, I set my pen on the table, and reached over to grab the book off of my foot.

“Nice catch,” a voice next to me said.

I winced. I hadn't realized that I was sitting next to anybody, but then again, I'd never paid much attention to the others in class. But my mind and ears fixated on the voice. It was deep and rough. The accent was different, English. I turned to face it.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as my head rotated toward my left. I did not look at him until after I had said this and, if I had, I probably wouldn't have been able to speak.

He was beautiful. This was a bizarre word for me to use to describe a man, but it was the first word that came to mind. His hair was dirty blonde and very messy. His skin tone was a few shades darker than mine, which wasn't hard at all to accomplish, and so very radiant.

I must have been staring because he began to look at me oddly. I quickly turned back to my things, feeling hot with embarrassment. I fumbled with my papers for a few seconds. Then he spoke again.

“My name is Henry,” he spoke, with his charming accent. He had such confidence as he stuck his hand out, intending for me to shake it.

His expectancy further disconcerted me. I twisted uncomfortably in my seat to face him once again.

“Mina Miller,” I replied as confidently as I could and took his hand. As I did this I looked right into his eyes, still trying not to seem shy. This was a mistake. His blue eyes made me feel even more timid and my undaunted front disappeared. I looked down trying to avoid his eyes. Fortunately, at that exact moment, the professor loudly walked in and immediately began his lecture. I let go of his hand and turned to begin my notes. During the entire class, I completely ignored the young man next to me. I tried my best to pretend he wasn't there. A few times during the lecture, I saw him look at me, expecting a glance back, but as much as I was tempted to, I never looked. I would not make a fool of myself.

When the professor dismissed the class I packed up my things with abnormal speed and rushed out of my seat trying to avoid the boy next to me.

“Goodbye, Mina,” I heard him loudly call after me right when I was about to exit the room. Many of the other students looked at him as he yelled this.

I turned around to see him flashing a smile at me. I half-smiled back, not using my teeth. and turned to proceed out the door.

“What an idiot,” I mumbled to myself as I walked to my car. “How could I have acted so stupid!” I said this too loudly and a nearby group of people looked at me with confused expressions. As soon as they saw me look at them, they all smiled, trying not to humiliate me further, I assumed. I ignored them all and kept walking.

It was about ten o'clock when I got back home. I'd spent the whole car ride home pondering on the things that I might have said to make me sound like I wasn't such a shy loser. It's funny how I would always imagine the right things to say or do in certain situations after they had already occurred. In my head I'd pictured me responding to his every word with just as much confidence as he had, and smiling just as brilliantly at every word he said.

But it was too late. He probably already thought I was a freak. A nothing. Then I giggled furiously. What was I thinking? Like I would ever have a chance with him even if I had said and done all of the right things. He was too good looking. I certainly wasn't bad looking, far from it actually, especially today, but still, he was just…beautiful. I laughed again. I probably wouldn't talk to him again anyway. I decided to forget about him and move on with my day.

I spent most of the afternoon lounging around. Television and videogames were a nice way to kill time. When I become bored with that the Internet was the best entertainment. But soon I was uninterested with that so I settled on taking a walk. I hadn't done this in a while. Up until I started college, I would take a long walk whenever I would get too stressed out. Plus, I'd been pigging out all day and felt a bit guilty.

Walking down my street, I noticed the house two houses from my own. The “For Sale” sign had been taken down. Someone had finally bought it. Ever since the old lady that lived there had died, the house laid vacant. As I wandered back home, I wondered what the new neighbors would be like.

At four o'clock my mom came home, grocery bags in hand. She always radiated energy, so the second she walked in the door, I was out of the lazy stupor I had been in all day. I looked at her and wondered what it was about her that gave off such energy. She was thirty eight years old, yet she had such a youth about her. When she would tell people her age, most would never believe it.

Brown was her natural hair color but a few years ago she changed it to an unnatural bleach blonde. Her skin was always tan, thanks to her frequent visits to the tanning bed. Makeup was her best friend and she wore a lot more than I thought necessary, but that was typical of her. Looking any worse than her best was out of the question.

She gave me an odd look.

“Wow Mina, you look nice today. What did you do?” she curiously asked as she set walked into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter.

I followed her to the kitchen and brushed the question off. “Nothing, I'm just having a good day. How was work?” I would ask her this almost every day when she came home, just for something conversational to say.

“It was work. I met the new boss today. He seems nice enough.”

“That's good.” I didn't really want to continue this conversation and immediately regretted asking. Every time she began talking about work, she wouldn't stop. So I asked a new question. “What's in the bags?”

“Oh just a few things for dinner,” she replied pulling while rummaging through them. “Hopefully I can have it all finished before your father gets home.” She began opening bags of frozen vegetables and emptying them into the steamer. She paused for a second and then looked at me with hopeful eyes. “Are you sure you didn't want a party next week?”

Ugh. Exactly one week from today was my dreaded eighteenth birthday. I shouldn't be upset about turning eighteen. I should be excited. Most people I went to school with were already adults, and I was by far the youngest in all of my classes. But, as ridiculous as it sounded, I could not help but feel like becoming an adult would bring some drastic, inevitable change into my life.

“No, mom, we already went over this,” I snapped. “I really don't want a party. I was actually hoping that you, Dad, and I could go out to a nice, quiet dinner.” I said this almost like it was a demand. I knew my mom was set on throwing me a huge eighteenth birthday bash, so I really had to let her know that was absolutely not what I wanted.

“Fine.” She bitterly said and started on dinner again. I immediately felt bad for not allowing her the pleasure of giving her only daughter her first adult birthday party, but I did not like attention and a birthday party just seemed like more attention than I would ever need.

“How about we don't have a big party then. How about we have a small get together, just some family and a few friends,” she said pleadingly, her soft eyes melting telling me that she really, really wanted this. “I wouldn't make it a huge production.”

I knew then that my mom was just as sad about me turning eighteen as I was. I wouldn't be her little girl anymore. Guilt washed over me for saying no to her party idea in the first place. “Fine,” I sighed, sounding resigned. “But try not to go overboard, mom.”

“Thank you,” she squealed and then ran over to hug me. She looked so excited, full of her abnormal energy. “Now,” she said, letting go of me, “Will you help me with dinner? I'll never get this done before your father gets home unless I have an extra set of hands.”

I agreed and we went to work.

When my father arrived home dinner was ready. The three of us sat down at the kitchen table. We all talked about each other's days. I loved this, sitting down with my parents for dinner. It felt good knowing that we could all share our lives with one another just by sitting at a table. Plus, the food my mother and I made was delicious.

My dad began telling us about the retirement party that took place in his office today. Unfortunately, this reminded my mom of something and she fiercely interrupted him telling him about the party she was planning for me.

“Jillian,” he sternly began “you know she doesn't want a party.”

“Oh, it's not going to be a large affair, besides, she's already agreed to it.” She excitedly looked at me to confirm this.

I nodded, trying to look excited as well. I didn't want to make my mom feel bad. My father looked at me with apprehension. He knew how much I hated parties and he was obviously confused as to why I would agree to one.

“Okay,” he finally said. “But, Jill, please don't spend all of the money. I know how overexcited you get when you do these things.”

I didn't think about this. Of course she would blow tons of money. She always did on these types of things. My stomach felt a bit uneasy as I imagined what she could spend so much cash on. Hopefully nothing too fancy. I shook off the thought.

“Don't be so stingy, Dave. After all, it is your daughters first adult birthday.”

My father groaned and that made my mother laugh. I sat there nervously, wondering what other horrors would accompany my adulthood.

The next morning, I managed to wake up one minute before my alarm clock rang. This was unusual for me. Waking up easily was not a talent normally I possessed. But I was not grouchy, mostly because I wasn't tired at all. I was upset, however, that today and tomorrow I had a job to attend to. Tuesdays and Wednesdays were the only two weekdays that I didn't have school, so I was free to work. Of course I didn't have too much to complain about. It was a fairly simple, well-paying job and I got the hours I wanted. Eight to Four. I worked the day and still got to enjoy my evenings.

I got out of bed and took my usual morning shower. When I finished I went back to my room, put on my work uniform and started to brush out my hair. I looked in the mirror, and I was pleased to see that I was having another good day. My skin was still glowing and perfect, and my hair was drying into a nice, wavy style around my face. However, I still pulled out my makeup bag, trying to take advantage of my recent beauty. I started curling my eyelashes. But I stopped because it felt different. I set the curler down and pushed my head closer to the mirror, examining my eyes. My eyelashes were longer, a lot longer. They were also significantly thicker. What happened? Were eyelashes supposed to grow that quickly? They hadn't looked like that yesterday.

I decided that this was just part of my newly acquired luck and continued my beauty routine. Mascara, blush, and chapstick. Once again I decided I didn't need anymore than that.

I skipped breakfast, which was very different for me. I wasn't at all hungry, probably because I filled up on so much dinner last night. There was few minutes before I had to leave for work and my room needed a bit of maintenance so I began cleaning. I disliked cleaning, but I felt like my room was becoming overcrowded with trash. Underneath my bed was a pigsty, but my closet was the worst. There were piles of shoes and empty shopping bags and boxes on the floor. The rack where my clothes hung was disorganized. Empty hangers stuck out from in-between my clothes, half of which were falling off of the hangers. The shelf on top of that was even worse. There were dozens of books and papers all mangled and scattered up there. I resolved to clean it sometime within the next few days. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw the mess.

I tried closing my closet doors, but they wouldn't shut and I noticed that an oversized black book was jamming it. I opened the doors and picked the book up. My grandmother had given it to me two years ago, just before she died. There was nothing written on the cover, and the inside was completely blank. I assumed that she wanted me to use it as a journal, but I'd never written in it and I didn't plan on starting. I put the book back up on the closet shelf and once again proceeded to close the doors.

I looked up at the clock and realized it was time to leave. I put on my name badge, grabbed my black purse, and headed out.

When I was settled into the driver's seat of my van I remembered that I hadn't gotten gas in a few days and was almost on empty. I turned my key until I heard the engine start and looked at the gas meter. It was full.

No, that couldn't be right. I turned the car off and pulled out the key. The gas pointer fell back down to below empty. I returned the key to the ignition and restarted it, thinking that this time, I would get an accurate reading. The pointer flew back up, telling me once again that I had a full tank. I thought back to yesterday, but I didn't remember putting gas in the van. I stared at the gauge. It was probably broken. I would have to ask my dad to look at it later.

It only took about five minutes to get from my house to the grocery store where I worked. It was convenient to have my place of employment so close to home. However, there were some aspects of it that weren't so convenient. Because this was the closest grocery store to my home, I found myself there quite often. I didn't like being there more than I had to be, but the next grocery store was a good twenty minutes away and I didn't want to have to go so far to just pick up a few things.

I parked in the far end of the parking lot, like all of the employees were instructed to do. The closer spots were supposed to be for the customers. And since it was such a busy store all of the front spots were always taken. I walked across the large lot, looking at the automatic door that I would enter. People were bustling in and out with their baskets full of groceries, all in a hurry to get back to their lives.

I entered and walked across the front end of the store to the time clock. I quickly punched my number into the keypad. My name appeared in the screen across the top of it : Miller, Mina L. It was going to be a long day.

The hours passed until it was finally time to go home.

The following day passed almost exactly the same way. Because I had done absolutely nothing Tuesday night, I resolved on finishing my English paper and doing a bit of reading for Political Science. Those were the two classes that I had tomorrow and I needed to get all of my work done.

I spent most of the night working on my paper. It was eight o'clock when I was almost completely done. Relief spilled through me. I had been worried about not being able to finish in time. Usually, I loved doing my English assignments, but this one in particular was tedious and involved making comparisons of two ridiculous stories. I paper-clipped the six page document and neatly put it into my folder, where I wouldn't lose it. As I was doing this, my mother stepped in to tell me about her plans for my birthday party.

“Hey honey,” she paused and looked at me. “I finished making the plans for your party,” she said conversationally, “I've actually decided that your party will be this Sunday. I know that's the day before your actual birthday, but I don't think a Monday party is such a good idea. But it's planned all out and I've sent all of the invitations. There will be people here all week cleaning and setting up the backyard. Oh, Mina, it's going to be perfect! You should see the all of the things I've bought and how nice everything is going to look.”

Just thinking of these things horrified me. My mother saw how upset I looked and her face filled with anguish. This made me feel awful. As upset as I was, I realized how much effort she put into it and how much she expected me to be happy about her party plans. I composed myself and said what I could to make her happy.

“Thanks mom, I'm sure it will be really nice,” I said this as convincingly as I could, but I didn't look like she was buying it. I went for a distraction and asked, ” But what will I wear?”

Her face instantaneously brightened with excitement and she furiously began discussing my countless wardrobe options.

So much for my luck.

* * * * * *

Once again, just like yesterday and the day before, I woke up one minute before my alarm clock would bother me.

I was rather hungry so I fumbled my way to the kitchen and pulled some pop-tarts out of the cabinet. I took them back to my bedroom and sat on my bed and ate, fuming over the party information my mother had delivered to me last night. She should be glad she wasn't home right now, or my grumpy morning-self would lace into her.

My morning self-maintenance routine began as usual with me taking a shower. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt which fit my body snugly. I paired that with a pair of black flats.

I felt like I should look nice today, and I knew why. I was hoping to see Henry again. This was stupid of me. I shouldn't be thinking about some boy who could probably care less about me.

I blew my hair dry. I curled all of my hair after this and pulled the front sections off of my face and clipped them to the back of my head. I thought it looked nice, like hair you expect a celebrity to wear while attending some fancy event.

When I sat down in the chair in front of the vanity, I noticed my face for the first time.

It was even more beautiful than the last two days. My ivory skin was extra radiant, my dark eyes sparkled, and my features seemed more striking than ever. My lips seemed fuller, my jawline more angular, my cheekbones higher.

If becoming eighteen meant becoming more attractive each day, than I would happily suffer through a million overdone birthday parties. Okay, maybe that was stretching it. But I did enjoy my semi-new countenance.

Doing my makeup today was fun. It was like taking something good and making it better. I curled my abnormally thick lashes, put on some mascara, touched on a bit of blush and decided on some lip gloss.

I looked in the mirror one last time, very pleased. Was this conceited? I immediately felt guilty for thinking myself so good-looking. I knew it wasn't nice to be so shallow. It felt wrong, and more than that, it all seemed too bizarre. This could not be normal. People's appearances didn't change so drastically in such short periods of time. Something was definitely wrong.

I looked at the clock and my vain worries disintegrated. Seven thirty. If I wanted to make it to class on time I would have to leave now. Just imagining all those people looking at me again made me rush. I would try to get there before the class could fill. I gathered my text books, my bag, and my car keys.

Thanks to a car accident and my fellow commuter's rubbernecking, I only just made it on time. Fortunately, the professor was running late, as usual.

When I entered the classroom, all eyes were on me again. But instead of looking away after a few seconds, many of their eyes followed me until I sat down in an empty seat on the end of one of the center rows. The seat next to me was also empty and I was glad. I didn't need people distracting me. I had too much on my mind already.

I couldn't stop myself from scanning the room, trying to scope out my attractive companion from last time. I looked towards the front rows of the room and I saw him, front and center. He was twisted in his seat, looking back at me. In an instant, the temperature rose at least twenty degrees. Just as I made eye contact, he smiled, pulled his things together and began climbing up towards me.

I froze. Was he going to sit next to me? Why? Was he interested in me? He couldn't be. And Henry was possibly the most perfect looking boy I had ever spoken to. But then again, I did look quite nice today…

He took the desk to my right and shifted it over, so he was sitting what normally would have been uncomfortably cl

“Good morning, Mina,” he beamed at me as he said it. I almost melted at the sound of his deep rough voice, his beautiful accent. “How are you today?”

I was once again stunned by his confidence. But somehow still I managed to keep my composure. “I'm fine. And yourself?”

“Well, now I'm feeling quite amazing. I've managed to snag the seat right next to the most beautiful girl in the entire school, ” he said.

He thought I was beautiful. I didn't know how to respond. I had little to no experience with people giving me such straightforward compliments. I decided to change the subject.

“Did you study for the exam today?” I tried to ask this as convincingly as I could, but felt stupid because I knew it came out rushed and it sounded like I was embarrassed.

“No. I don't need to study for this class,” he told me, “After the first few exams, I realized that the professor uses the exact same answer key every time.” He held out his scantron to show me it was already filled in.

“Oh.” I felt like I should have said something else, but I had nothing to say. Instead I curiously reached into my bag and pulled out the scantron from last weeks test and one from the week before. The answers matched exactly. He watched as I pulled out a new scantron and copied down the letters from the other two exams. My test was finished before it even started. Of course, I would check the answers just in case.

“Thanks,” I managed to say.

“Not a problem.” Then he stared right into my eyes. Not just a normal stare, but a smoldering, longing stare. I found myself staring back into his eyes. This felt weird but, somehow, I liked it.

The professor then walked in mumbling loudly and I looked away from Henry's eyes and to the front of the room, but I could still feel his stare intent on my face. This made me feel very discomforted so I shifted in my seat and snuck a glance at him. He saw this, smirked, and then turned to face the professor.

The exam began after the professor lectured us on the consequences of cheating. The questions were confusing and the objective answers were so close, that it was hard to differentiate between them. I was suddenly glad that I had kept up with the reading. I checked the answers that Henry had suggested to me, and to my slight surprise, they were correct.

After about an hour, the professor collected our exams. He told us that we were free to leave. This upset me. I had secretly been looking forward to the next hour of Henry's presence. But I was also glad because I had English 101 next and I needed the extra hour to edit the essay that was due.

I collected my things and got up out of my desk and headed toward the door, but a tap on my shoulder sent me turning back in his direction

“I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to an early lunch,” he confidently said. I nervously bit my lip and didn't answer, so he continued, “If your not busy, that is.”

I debated with myself. Go out to lunch, spend an hour with the him, or finish the essay. I picked the latter. “I'm sorry, I can't. I have english next, and I still have my essay to finish.”

His lip inwardly puckered and he looked a bit embarrassed. I doubt that someone like him was used to such rejection. But he took it well and spoke again just as confident as ever. “Well, good luck with that. I will see you Monday, Mina.” He stared at me again for a few moments, the intense look in his eyes and his brilliant smile and then turned to leave.

I felt like a moron. I knew the real debate that had been going on in my mind. It wasn't spend time with Henry or finish my essay, it was really be brave and go versus be a wimp and take the easy way out. I had taken the easy way out. The easy, but unsatisfying way out.

I walked out of the classroom, upset, wanting to run after him and tell him “Yes, I would love to go to lunch with you.” But it was too late. I had lost my chance.

English dragged on. Mr. Cobert, the professor, collected our essays. He looked impressed with the size of mine.

“Didn't sleep this week, huh?” He chuckled and continued collecting.

He gave a long lecture on a short African story and somehow, he ended up on a tangent about sports, debating with other students about their favorite teams. This made time take even longer to pass. But finally class did end, and I got to go home.

My house was empty and silent. I didn't like it. It gave me a lot of freedom to think, and I didn't want to remember the stupid choice I had made earlier today. I needed to do something to take my mind off of it, so I went for a walk.

Once again, I noticed the house two from mine. This time, there was a moving truck in front of it, with half a dozen people unloading it. I wondered if they were the people who would be living there. Or maybe they were just movers. I deliberated for a moment and decided to go ask and introduce myself. I walked over to one of the men unloading the truck.

“Hello,” I said, “I'm Mina, I live two houses away. Are you moving in?”

“No, we're just movers, the man who is buying the house is inside,” he told me. “He will probably be out in a minute to check on his things.”

Just then, coincidentally, a tall young man walked out. He looked like he might be about twenty or twenty-one, but there was an air of maturity and sophistication about him that made him seem much older, more dominant. I also noticed that he was quite attractive. He looked at me with interested confusion.

“Now who is this?” He smiled at the mover I was talking to.

Before he could answer, I said, “My name is Mina Miller, I live a couple of houses down. Are you moving in here?”

“Yes,” he seriously said. He momentarily paused, keeping a brief look of concentration on me. He quickly snapped out of it and smiled. “I'm Jack Harvey. It's very nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” I said. “Well, I should let you get back to moving your things.” I felt like I was bothering him. He must have been busy and didn't want to prolong the conversation. “See you later.”

“Bye,” I thought this was all he would say, but he stared at me stared again, seriousness in his face, “And once again, it was nice meeting you.” Then he walked back inside.

I walked the two houses back to my house, happy to have such a nice new neighbor. The old lady who used to live there was mean and creeped me out.

My mom arrived home at four-thirty and my dad did the same about ten minutes later. We spoke of party plans during dinner and my mother told me she wanted to take me shopping on Saturday for something nice to wear the day of my party. She also said that we would do a quiet family dinner the night of my actual birthday and she wanted the both of us to have something nice to wear because we would be going to a very formal restaurant. I had a hard time paying attention to what she was saying. My mind was in other places.

As I lay in bed that night, all I could re-enact in my head was my ridiculous rejection to Henry. I played it over and over in my head until sleep finally washed over me.

Morning came quickly and as usual, my one-minute-before-the-alarm-rings routine continued. On Fridays, I had to attend my favorite class as well as my most dreaded. I loved psychology, it was very interesting and I found it somewhat practical. On the other hand, I hated my Biology/Human Anatomy class. There was too much study time required and I was disgusted every time we had to dissect something.

I took my shower and got ready quickly. As usual, I looked better than the day before, but I ignored it. I could care less. As long I would be going to Biology, nothing could cheer me up.

On my way to school, I decided that I needed to stop at the gas station. Even though my tank still read completely full, I thought it might be broken. I didn't want to get stuck in the middle of traffic because I had run out of gas.

I pulled my van in next to pump number one, turned it off, got out and walked into the station. The man behind the glass window greeted me and I smiled and said hello.

“Twenty on number one,” I told him. I went to pull the money out of my wallet, but just then I realized that I had left it at home. I reached into my pocket, desperately wishing that I had some forgotten money in there. I was relieved when I felt several bills crumple in my hand. I pulled them out and began counting them. My eyes widened in surprise.

Out of my pocket came ten one hundred dollar bills. Never in my life would I keep that much money in my pocket. I didn't even make that much in a week, let alone two weeks.

The gas attendant looked at me strangely, but I simply stood there, shocked, staring at the money.

“Miss,” he began, “Is everything alright.” He looked at me speculatively and eyed the money. His face grew suspicious.

I grabbed one of the hundreds, handed it to him, and shoved the rest of the money back in my pocket. As confused as I was, the last thing I needed was for this guy to think I robbed someone. He glared at me as he gave me eighty dollars back.

“Thanks,” I managed.

He said nothing.

When I got back to the van, I stuck my hand in my pocket to see if I had imagined the whole money thing. Surely enough, the wad of hundreds was still there. I shoved it deep in my pocket. How did it get there? Could one of my parents placed it there?

Panicked as a was, I needed to get moving. If I sat here any longer, I would be late for Psychology. I opened my gas tank, pulled the pump out and stuck it in. I pulled the handle and the gas began to pump, but after a few seconds, gas started spilling out running down the side of the vehicle and onto the ground. I let the handle go. I hadn't put gas in the van in over a week, and I'd been doing a substantial amount of driving.

I stood there, just staring at the spilled gas. What was happening? Lately everything had been so strange. I compiled a mental list: my sudden beauty, my easy waking, my improved reflexes, my gas tank, and now the money. Something was definitely off.

About two minutes of me just standing and staring passed before the attendant came out of the station to see of everything was alright.

“I'm alright,” I lied.

I wasn't alright.

I put the pump back down and got into my car, driving away. My mind racing a million miles an hour. Something was happening to me. What could it be though? Was I crazy?

Before I could finish my thoughts, I was in the school parking lot. Just as I pulled in, someone pulled out, once again leaving me a free spot right in the front.

Was I just lucky? Was I mental? Either way, everything in my life seemed to be working in my favor. I smiled at that thought. Never before had things magically worked out so well for me. It probably wouldn't last either. I should just enjoy my temporary luck while I could.

Time flew by while I was in psychology. It usually did. The teacher lectured on Pavlov and Classical Conditioning and before I knew it, it was ten thirty and class had ended. Unfortunately, Biology was next.

On my way to biology class, I noticed that a very large number of men were staring at me. Some even whistled and made derogatory comments. As offensive as this was, I felt a slight satisfaction. Never before had people reacted to me like this.

“Enjoy your luck while it lasts,” I quietly told myself so nobody else would hear.

Biology started as usual. Today the doctor was lecturing us on cranial nerves and their functions. I couldn't pay any attention. Random thoughts about the last few days and their corresponding events plagued my mind.

When the professor had finished his lesson, he began questioning random students on what he had just lectured us about. I prayed that he wouldn't call on me.

He did.

I knew my luck would run out. He had asked me a question which was much more difficult than the ones he gave the others. He must have noticed my lack of attention.

“Miss Miller,” he began, “What is the function, type, location, and name of cranial nerve number four?” He smirked, knowing I had no clue.

And I didn't have a clue. So I was surprised when my mouth started moving.

“Cranial nerve number four is the Trochlear nerve which is a motor nerve that originates in the the midbrain and goes through the Superior Orbital Fissure. It functions to move the eyeball.”

I had no idea what I had just said. I just knew that it came out. Never, would I have known any of that stuff, let alone been able to explain it and sound intelligent. Maybe my luck still stood by me.

The professor looked at me incredulously. The rest of the class sniggered and I even heard a few girls mutter things along the lines of “showoff” and “overachiever”.

“Very good, Miss Miller,” he reluctantly said. I saw that he looked a bit disappointed that he didn't have a chance to chew me out, but he had nothing so he continued with his lesson.

The rest of the class passed quickly and I soon found myself sitting in the driver's seat of my van. I didn't start it like I usually would, though. Instead I sat, thinking.

I thought about how lucky I had been today, and the last few days, for that matter. Was it all just a coincidence? Had something happened to me? Did it have something to do with my upcoming birthday?

This was insane. I was being crazy. This was all nothing more than a mere coincidence. I couldn't have everything work out the way I wanted. Things just didn't happen that way. I would prove it to myself. I would test it. I would try to make things happen the way I wanted them to.

I started my car. “I want to make it home in five minutes,” I said to myself.

I began driving, my normal pace. I knew it was impossible to make it home in any less than fifteen minutes, let alone five. But I wanted to prove to myself that everything was normal, and the recent happenings were all just a fluke. Just because I wished something to happen it wouldn't come true. It couldn't come true.

I exited the parking lot and rounded the corner onto the main street. There was absolutely no traffic, no more than two cars on the road.

“Coincidence,” I whispered to myself. I kept my pace, and headed towards the first stop light. As I approached it, I saw that it was red. When I neared, it flashed green, letting me pass right through.

“Another fluke,” I said, grinding my teeth.

I continued driving without interference and eventually merged onto the freeway. I looked down at the clock and realized that less than two minutes had passed up to this point. Immediately, my head bolted up to check for traffic. My eyes widened in disbelief. This was not happening. There was not a single car in sight.

I was parked in the driveway of my house two minutes later.

I sat in the drivers seat, keys still in the ignition. It had seemed almost too coincidental for that to happen on top of everything else. To be honest, it freaked my out a bit, But I still wasn't convinced. I was too stubborn and it was too simple of a test. My logical side told me I would have to experiment again.

I left the keys in the ignition and I purposefully hit the door-lock button. I shut my door and stood there, wishing to myself that I would somehow be able to get back in and get my keys. I proceeded to open the driver's seat door. Locked.

“Ha,” I chortled. “You are a fool, Mina. You truely are.”

And I was a fool. How could I be stupid enough to believe I could have whatever I wished for? And now my keys were locked in the car. Crap.

I frantically walked around the car, wondering what I should do. My mom and dad wouldn't be home for a few hours, and I didn't want to be stuck here the entire time. Plus, my house key was on the key ring. Quickly, I tugged the passengers door handle. No luck. The back door handle yielded the same result.

Frustrated, I began digging through my purse, in search of my cell phone. I would have to call one of my parents to help me. I pulled a few things out and reached in to pull out what I thought would be my phone. My hand missed and pulled something else out. A key. My spare car key, right in my purse. Never did I remember putting it in there.

I needed a real test. A true assessment that would prove that this wasn't all an accident. I walked in the house and went straight to my bedroom.

I'll admit I was scared. But I felt crazy, and this was the only way for me to find out once and for all. This test would be actual evidence. Not something that may or may not be a coincidence, but hard, physical proof.

My chair sat in the middle of the room and, for some reason, it seemed like it knew that I was coming to sit down in it. It made it the whole situation more frightening. Regardless, I sat, clenching both of my hands into tight fists. I looked around my room focusing on the eggshell white walls. I could feel my nails digging deeper into the skin of my palms as I closed my eyes and thought hard.

I wish that the walls of my bedroom were blue.

Rationality told me I was being ridiculous. That was the only reason I didn't bolt from the room without looking. After a few seconds of internal deliberation, I slowly opened my eyes.

The walls were bright blue.

I froze in place. Movement was not a possible option for me at that moment.

I'm almost sure that most people would be amazed, would even feel powerful if they could have anything they wished for. I didn't feel that way. I had never been more scared in my entire life.

My horror was interrupted when I heard my mother's car pull up in the driveway. My first instinct was to run to her, crying and tell of everything that had happened. But I knew better and I didn't want to spend the rest of my life locked up in a psych ward.

It did occur to me that I could show her, prove it to her like I had to prove it to myself, but I couldn't do that to her. I was scared as it was and I didn't need to inflict that on anybody else. Plus, this could end up hurting someone. I had to deal with this on my own.

I promised myself that I would never use this power again.

I wished my walls back to their original colors and laid in my bed, pretending to be asleep, but I didn't have to pretend for long. I was there until the next morning.

Saturdays were usually the easiest days for me to get out of bed. But not today. Even though I woke up early I did not make myself move. I was still a bit freaked out and I wasn't looking forward to my face in the mirror today or people's reactions to how different I looked compared to a few days ago.

Eventually I forced myself up before my mom could assume that I was ill. After all, I had been in bed since about four o'clock yesterday. And of course, despite my unwillingness, I went to the mirror.

The trend had continued. I looked better than I had all of the days before except this time, my hair was already done for me, perfect-looking. I wouldn't even need to throw a brush through it. I woke up looking like a supermodel, ready to strut down the runway.

I wanted to cry. And I did. I bawled and bawled until I realized it was almost noon and my mom had wanted to take me shopping today. My whimpering ceased, hoping my face wouldn't be too red. I didn't want my parents to know I had been crying. They would demand to know what was wrong and I didn't have a lie prepared. But, of course, when I looked in the mirror my face was perfect, without even the slightest trace of my tears.

I began to dress but then abruptly stopped before opening my closet doors. Memories of yesterday flashed across my mind and I realized that I didn't have to waste time dressing. I could just will it to happen.

But, I had promised myself that I would not do this. No matter how trivial dressing could be.

My mom was in the kitchen, already pulling things out for dinner. When she heard me enter the kitchen she turned around, looked confused, but then smiled widely.

“Well, it's no wonder you've been in your room all morning,” she began. “You look beautiful, honey. I guess you're ready to go then?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. I couldn't say more. In reality, I wasn't at all excited to go shopping. I had other things to worry about. On the other hand, I needed something to occupy my thoughts and make me feel normal again, so I was glad to have this distraction.

The car ride there was extremely uncomfortable. Normally, me and my mom would talk about everything and anything. But this time was different. I had no intentions of talking. She picked up on my mood and, in response, said nothing back.

When we pulled up to the mall, she became giddy, like a ten-year-old going to buy a new puppy. She always became this way while shopping. It was worse though, because she wasn't only shopping for herself, but for me as well. She was an oversized child and I was her doll.

We found a nice pink babydoll dress for my party. It was about two hours after arriving that we had done this. My mother had me in and out of stores, dressing me and undressing me. I wasn't fond of this kind of thing, but it was a sure distraction. And I really needed a distraction. After, my mother was dead set on me finding a dress for my birthday dinner. She had already found one for herself with ease, but, according to her, nothing looked good enough for “her baby”.

As much as I came her to forget about my so called “luck”, I desperately wanted to be done shopping. Maybe, there could be advantages to wishing for things.

My mom led me into a designer store with an eager look on her face. “I think this is the one,” she began, “We have to find something in here.”

Oh, we would find something in here.

I want to find the perfect dress,

Right at that moment, my mother squealed and ran straight to a mannequin wearing a beautiful little black dress.

“It's gorgeous,” she exclaimed. “Mina, you have to try it on!”

And of course, I did and it was perfect. The dress was slim fitting and covered one shoulder, while leaving the other bare. I didn't leave the dressing room to show my mother, though. I still felt a little shy wearing it. I told her it would be a surprise.

I was relieved when we finally returned home, but, ultimately, I was upset with myself. I had broken my promise, used my “luck”.

Guilt momentarily wavered over me before a large gush of realization. This realization was major, life changing.

What if I was meant to have this power? What if this was a good thing? Nothing bad could happen if I didn't want it to I was in control. And no matter what I would make this a good thing.

I was lucky, definitely lucky.I wished to myself. I braced myself before I opened my eyes. A part of me knew that when I opened my eyes, my walls would surely be a completely different color. I didn't want to believe that. So, another part of me told me to open my eyes to prove that I was being utterly ridiculuous.

.ose to me. But it was quite comfortable, too comfortable. This was new to me. After our last encounter, I had been so nervous. So nervous in fact that I had planned on avoiding him so I would not have to feel that way again. But I didn't feel that way now. Was this also a new part of growing up?