Beyond Lucky by Sarah Aronson Read Free Book Online Page B

today.
    Today, he doesn’t lose me. I don’t give up. I almost believe in magic.
    Today, for the first time ever, I win. Easy.

EIGHT
    â€œThe capacity of the female mind for studies of
the highest order cannot be doubted, having been
sufficiently illustrated by its works of genius, of
erudition, and of science.”
    â€”James Madison
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    In the hall, two girls wave. They say, “Hey, Ari,” which means they are talking to me, and they know my name. For the fifth day in a row, I don’t trip. In social studies, Eddie remembers to save my seat. We start a unit on the Civil War, the bloodiest war in American history, one of my five favorite topics after the presidents.
    Mr. Sigley hands each of us a pretest. Usually, at the start of a new unit, I don’t know any of the answers.
    What was the first major battle of the Civil War?
    In what campaign did Grant sustain 50,000 casualties?
    When did Lee surrender?
    Today, they’re cake. I know them all. Bull Run; the Wilderness campaign; April 9, 1865.
    I raise my hand. “Did you know that the war began as the result of a dispute between certain Southern states and certain Northern states regarding slavery and the taxation of cotton exports?”
    Mr. Sigley says, “That’s very interesting, Ari. You really know a lot about the Civil War. Please feel free to chime in anytime.”
    Participation is worth forty percent of our grade. After class, I can’t stop smiling.
    Eddie says, “I can’t believe you know all that!” Then he asks me if I want a ride to the field—his mom is picking him up.
    â€œThat sounds great.” As we walk to our next class, I pull a crumpled five-dollar bill out of my back pocket that I forgot was there. I envision the Wayne Timcoe card safe in my backpack. Everything keeps getting better, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.
    In math, I figure out the answer to the problem of the day.
    In English, the book we are reading next has very short chapters. When the teacher gives the assignment, I know exactly what to write.
    At lunch, the whole team sits together at the two tables in the middle of the room. Becky comes over with Sandy, the striker from the girls’ club team, and Randi and Kellie, whom I have never seen break a sweat, even though they were in my gym class for two years straight. They ask if they can squeeze in too. According to Sandy, Parker has been bragging all week about how great and nice we all are. Randi and Kellie offer to make signs for every Somerset Valley soccer game and put them all over the school. No one has ever done this for a club soccer team before. They write down all our names, so they won’t spell any of them wrong.
    â€œFish,” I say, “as in gold.”
    And they laugh. Their brown ponytails swing together.
    Pretty soon, they’re all sketching and comparing notes and trading papers. As far as I can tell, the point is to incorporate the letters of each name into a big picture or design.
    They finish Eddie’s name first, because names with double letter combinations are way cooler and fun than names with a variety of letters, and Eddie has two sets. I see what they mean. The g ’s in Biggs look especially good next to each other, and the girls decorate them with a lot of squares and swirls and colors.
    Becky makes Mac’s, complete with golden arches, and the ball flying right over the top, which of course, Mac loves. He looks at the ceiling and tells a joke. Soup gets a can of soup with the slogan: “Mmm. He’s good.”
    Sandy hands it to Soup. “Do you like it?”
    When Soup blushes, his dark skin looks almost purple. “Yes. I do.” Soup never says much. He might be confident on the field, but lately, he has become extremely shy, especially around girls. Mac thinks this has something to do with his family or culture, but I think it’s because his voice is changing. At