Out of Luck by Julie Steimle (classic literature list txt) 📖

I can frost it. It is going to be the best I’ve ever made. I only wish we could keep it.”
“Why don’t we?” I asked, smirking, and glad she changed the subject somewhat.
She gave me one of those don’t-be-silly looks. “Because, you gooseberry, it is for the charity raffle. You have to win it.”
I merely smiled. She knew I was teasing.
“Now, go up and change. You have that dance performance next, right?”
I nodded. “I’ll go now.”
And I jogged to the stairs and up them straight to my room. Yanking open the door, I immediately undressed and tossed my flag uniform aside. Grabbing the bottle of sun block, I slathered it on over every bit of skin possible. Since I burned so easily, it was best that I got this done every few hours. That meant I also had to grab some more for later.
My Celtic dance dress required two kinds of shoes. I would have to bring three. I never went walking in my clogging shoes and most certainly not in my slippers, so I had to toss back on my sneakers after adjusting my tights. That also meant I needed to carry my duffel bag with me. I figured I’d just stuff my batons in there with my shoes and a towel, and after the performances I could catch a bit of the baseball game. So that required that I also pack a hat.
By the time I had my bag full and I was heading down the stairs, my time was running out. In the kitchen, my mom was frosting the last bit of the cake. She picked up some chopped pistachios off the cutting board and sprinkled them on top.
I closed one eye and pursed my lips before saying, “That’s Grandma McAllister’s Pistachio cake recipe, isn’t it? I thought you swore you’d never make it.”
Blushing, my mom ducked her head between her shoulders. “Ok. Ok. I did say that. But this one really isn’t her cake, per se. It is new and improved.”
“How?” I smirked at her, knowing Grandma McAllister perfected the pistachio cake and she didn’t like other cooks meddling with her recipe—especially making it better. She was competitive that way.
Lifting an empty soda pop bottle off the counter, Mom said, “I used this instead of milk.”
I merely blinked at her.
“You’ll like it,” she said, going back to sprinkling nuts.
I probably would, but I decided it was best not to say anything about this to Grandma McAllister. She was the only grandma still speaking to me. I guess I just couldn’t creep out a woman from Miami. However, angering her would be too easy if she and Mom started bickering again. I suppose Mom is still a Wilson deep down. And like Gran Wilson, she would be stubborn, and we’d be stuck in the middle of it.
Turing toward the door, I set my bag down on the floor. “So, are you taking me?”
My mother smiled at me and nodded. “Just a moment. Let me cover this and we’ll be off.”
That was what she said, but you know how life gets in the way. The phone rang.
She picked it up. “Hello?”
I waited.
“Yes, this is Bette McAllister. And who may I say is calling?”
I drew in a breath, yawning half way. My mother turned her head, waving for me to cover my mouth. I suppose even I could creep her out with the fangs I got though she was all about manners. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I gave a dramatic yawn.
“Really? This isn’t a hoax?”
That got my attention. I walked over to the phone table. My mother’s eyes widened in excitement, and I could hear her heart beating louder.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Shh!” She waved for me to hold that thought. “Yes! Yes, we are still interested. We always buy that magazine.”
I waited.
Suddenly she squealed, practically jumping like a giddy child. “No way! Really? That’s great! When will we get the tickets?”
“Tickets?” I blinked at her, still waiting as she waved excitedly, yet still for me to be silent as she listened.
“Wow! Thank you so much! This great!” And she hung up the phone right after. Her face was flushed and she was beaming like a searchlight. I think I could have gotten scorched from her glowing face with how happy she looked.
“Come on, Mom! What is it? What happened?” I was really dying of curiosity now.
She reached out and grabbed my shoulders, grinning as if her face would split open if she were any happier. “We won!”
I blinked blankly. “Won what?”
Still grinning, my mother shook me as if I were being so dense that day. “We won that magazine cruise contest. We got the tickets! Free! A free vacation for your father and me!”
Now I understood. “You mean that far fetched contest you sent in all those UPC s for? Wasn’t that just on a whim?”
Mom nodded. “Yes! That’s the most amazing thing about it! Today is just my lucky day!”
Well, what do you know? They won. I guess that meant they would go on the cruise during our summer vacation. I started to wonder if maybe us kids would go to Florida to see our Grandma McAllister during that time. The cruise would last a week in the Caribbean, and I know they did not trust Travis or Dawn enough to leave us home by ourselves. Besides, I think Dad didn’t trust Mr. McDillan enough to leave me in this town with him without some protection for me. But really, Mr. McDillan is old hat now. I don’t think he’d bother.
“Can we go now?” I said, reaching for my duffel bag.
My mother had been dancing in the kitchen, wiggling her toosh and pointing here and there like a disco dancer gone nuts. She halted with a pained expression on her brow. “Party pooper. Can’t I enjoy this? I never get a vacation alone with your father.”
“I’m home!” Dad called through the suddenly open door.
“I have great news!” Mom practically skipped over to him, planting a big wet one right on his lips.
Dad grinned, returning the kiss with an extra romantic hug, dipping her down for yet another saliva exchange. I love my folks, but sometimes it gets tiring with all the lovey-dovey mush they go into.
“And I have good news for you,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes with a flicker of mischief. I liked that about him. “I won as the hundredth customer at the checkout today.
“Voila!” he pulled out a bouquet of flowers.
“You won these?” My mom was smiling. “You can get these for two dollars at the checkout.”
He continued to grin at her with that mischievous look in his eye. “Yes, but did you know I won a rosebush that will grow these every summer?”
My mom had always wanted another rose bush. Not that my dad wouldn’t buy one for her, but that he said we had too many already and he would not buy another one unless it was unique.
“And this one is unique,” he said as if completing my thoughts. He winked at me.
“Oh, darling!” My mother embraced him, planting yet another mush kiss onto his lips. I had to turn away.
“You know, I think I’ll just walk back,” I said, gesturing to the door.
Mom turned with a grin. “Ok, dear. Will you please take the cake with you?”
Sighing, I nodded. “Sure. And you can tell Dad about your romantic news and kiss some more.”
Dad laughed, blushing. “No. It’s ok. We can give you a ride.”
I lifted my eyebrows at Mom. “Just tell him.”
“We won the cruise.” She got all excited again, grabbing him like she had done me.
“Not THE cruise?” he said.
Mom nodded. “Yes! THE cruise! Can you believe it?”
He grabbed her and lifted her into the air, laughing. And yes, they kissed again.
I went over to the kitchen counter and picked up the cake. I figured they’d be at it for a while anyway, and as Mom said, they rarely got time truly alone together.
Walking back to the park was like juggling. I don’t suppose people got awards for juggling one somewhat weighty duffel bag and a particularly delicious smelling cake without eating even a slight bit of the frosting. It was pistachio pudding mixed with whipped topping. The best in the world. Unfortunately this also meant that I had to go at it slow. I knew I was going to be late now. The good thing was, I didn’t feel a soul follow me.
By the time I reached the park, the parking lot was nearly full. Almost no spaces were left. The drunk was still there in the clover, singing his stupid song. The baseball game had started, or at least they were practicing. I stood there a moment to watch the old men run with their legs somewhat apart as if they had forgotten how to balance themselves. Maneuvering past the bandstand where there were already people gathered listening to Clan Celt, the local band made up by the Flannery family, I ducked below the back of the audience to avoid being seen. It didn’t work.
“Eve McAllister! Where have you—” Coach Sheehan stared at the cake. “You went home to make a cake?”
I shook my head. “No, I went home to change my clothes. My mom handed me the cake. I need to drop it off at the raffle table.”
“I’ll do that.” My best friend Jane suddenly showed up, lifting the cake from my fingers. I watched it and her weave into crowd. She looked like she was laughing at me as I stared after her. “Go and practice.”
Jane didn’t clog. In fact, she didn’t perform. I often wondered about that, but Jane said that her mother didn’t like anything ostentatious and that included all performances. Really, some parents take all the fun out of life. And though in all other respects I like Mrs. Bennetti, on this one thing she and I would never see eye to eye. I suppose that is why Jane excelled in her classes instead. She’ll go on to Stanford. I just know it.
So, cake-less, I nodded to the coach and followed her instead.
“Everyone else is ready. You took your time getting her.” My dance coach was not as nice as my flag coach. I’d ditch Celtic