Lucky Me by Cindy Callaghan

was really hard, and Finn was getting far ahead.
    I looked down and noticed that my back tire wasn’t exactly round. It was more like egg-shaped, which made it turn with a little hump each time around.
    Snow globe moment: I’m riding a broken bike through Ireland in the rain wearing donated clothes, and a handkerchief on my head, with a boy (correction—a cute boy) who I’ve known for about twenty-four hours. If you look closely, you can see that the girl in the glass globe is developing blisters on her bottom. She wipes rain off her face, and she feels the beginning of a très grand zit.

    After what seemed like forever, we finally leaned our bikes against some trees near the center of town. The streets were much quieter than in Limerick. A few people lingered at shop windows, and some rode by on bikes with baskets of groceries.
    I was wet but not soaked. Just enough to look like a sponge but not a mop.
    A kid sat on a bench fiddling with his cell phone, witha hypnotized look on his face. He wore a long-sleeved shirt with a collar and a team logo that I recognized as a rugby team’s. He was probably in the tournament.
    Finn said, “Hey, guy, did you play today?”
    â€œYup.” He pushed buttons on his phone, hard, and tilted the screen to the right and left.
    â€œWhere is everyone?”
    â€œGone home. Tourney’s been over for hours.” He let out a frustrated groan and finally raised his head, totally annoyed with us for interrupting his game. “It’ll start again in the morning, around seven.” He went back to his game, clearly not interested in making friends.
    I slumped. “Tomorrow?” Why should I have been surprised? Of course Anna wasn’t here. I was cursed. I should’ve expected it.
    â€œAt least we know where she’ll probably be tomorrow,” Finn said. “Let’s get some gas.” At this point I was wet, tired, sore, and hungry. “Then we can get ourselves back to Ballymore.”
    â€œWe’re so close now . If we leave, what if we can’t come back tomorrow? Plus, I know those ladies on silent retreat don’t want me there.”
    â€œYou peeked at the vote?”
    â€œJust for a sec—long enough to see their hands up.”
    â€œIn their defense, a five-hundred-pound chandelier had almost just killed them.”
    â€œDidn’t Mrs. Buck say we were going to her brother’s for dinner? Can’t we stay there?”
    â€œI guess we can ask her when we get back to the car.”
    The clouds finally moved aside to let the day’s last rays of sunshine warm our backs. That was when I saw it on the side of the lane. It was purple and puffy and growing from a crack in the sidewalk. “Look at this, Finn.” I bent next to the flower. “It’s pretty.”
    â€œIt’s more than pretty. It’s a thistle. And that’s the sign of good luck. We should go this way.” Then from right up ahead of us came a speedy tractor, the soup can right behind it.
    Honey was behind the wheel of the tractor. “Got you two some petrol.”
    It was truly good luck for the blisters on my butt. Honey helped us get our car, which was driven by our goggled lady, and extra gas. We gave her the bikes. And, perhaps best of all, she invited me into the tractor to give me another loaf of soda bread.
    While I was thanking Honey, Finn somehow communicated with Mrs. Buck. He told me, “Her brother isexpecting us. She already texted with your parents and my da, so we can spend the night there.”
    â€œThat’s great news!” I hugged him. Then I went back to the crack in the sidewalk and picked the thistle. I was going to keep that puppy close to me.
    We were climbing into the back of the soup can when I asked, “Do you think we can stop at the store so I can get a few necessities?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œPajamas, toothbrush, shampoo. You know? Necessities.”