Lucky Luna by Diana Lopez

Author:Diana Lopez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2018-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

It’s Monday, time for school again. There’s Claudia, sitting in my chair and eating my breakfast again, this time a pumpkin empanada from the bag of pan dulce my dad bought. Without looking, I know it’s the last empanada because that’s my favorite, and Claudia likes to eat the last of everything. Sure enough, I peek in the bag and all that’s left are two conchas, puffy breads with pink or white powdered sugar. They’re called conchas because they look like shells. I grab one, take a bite, and chew. It tastes okay, but I’d rather have the empanada.

Claudia’s backpack is hanging from the chair. She reaches into it and pulls out a skein of yarn. “I bought green since it’s your favorite color.”

“Oh,” I say. “That’s nice.” But it’s not nice because she bought the wrong kind of green. Instead of green like cute frogs or emeralds, Claudia’s yarn is green like seaweed.

“On Mondays, we meet for Needle Beetles,” she says. “I’m going to learn how to knit, and next month, kickball starts. I can’t wait.”

“It’s nice to see you getting so involved,” Mom tells my prima. Then she turns to me. “And you, Lucky Luna? You haven’t mentioned any clubs this year.”

I shrug because I haven’t joined anything yet. Last year, I was in Newsletter with Mabel, but it felt like another writing class. Then I joined Pet Pals, thinking I could take care of a rabbit and show my parents how responsible I am. But we don’t have any rabbits at our school. We have fish, lizards, snakes, turtles, and hamsters, and the only thing Pet Pals did was clean their tanks and cages once a week.

“Well?” Mom asks.

“I’m still figuring it out,” I say. “Maybe there’s a club for hats or a cooking class.”

She smiles. “A cooking class sounds like fun. Let me know what you need.” She’s acting like I already signed up, but I just said the first thing that came to mind. Then again, if I take a cooking class, I can learn how to make empanadas and blueberry muffins and pancakes so I can have the breakfast I want instead of the leftovers Claudia leaves behind.

Then it’s time for school. I remember my hair and sigh about not having a hat. Three weeks to go. That’s almost as long as the entire life span of a mosquito or fly—which means … if I were a mosquito or fly, I’d have to go my entire life without hats!

Stop obsessing, I tell myself, so on the way to the bus, I ask Claudia about her mom’s allergies. “Is it true that the last time she ate fish, her throat closed up and you had to call the ambulance so they could save her life?”

“No,” she says. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Paloma told me. Or maybe it was Mirasol or Kimberly. I can’t remember.”

“Oh? When did you talk to them?”

“Saturday. At the fish fry.”

“You went?”

“Yes, they invited me. They always invite me places.”

“Me too,” she says.

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