He curses under his breath, and it makes the win that much sweeter, especially when Salem says, “Damn, Skeevy.” We ante up and Matt deals again, and as soon as I see the two and three of spades, I have a good feeling. I never lose a hand when I have the two of spades, which is why I used to wear a Claire-crafted bead version around my neck. I’d even thought about putting it on tonight, because much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind in Greentree. But I figured it probably no longer carried the luck it used to.

Clearly I don’t need Claire and her jewelry, because I end up with a flush. I raise steadily, but Archie’s already decided that I’m constantly bluffing, so he jacks up the pot, and I’m only too happy to keep going.

“How do you know how to do this?” Priya asks, fascinated.

“My dad and I used to play a lot.” True, but I don’t mention how frequently we used to play with cousins at family gatherings, using jelly beans or Jolly Ranchers as currency. Or the poker nights I used to have with some friends at Greentree I haven’t spoken to in months. Or the fact that I’m ranked in the top three hundred of my favorite poker app.

No one does better at poker than a girl being underestimated by a table of guys. Ask me how I know.

Finally, Archie calls, and curses under his breath when I display my row of spades.

“Damn, she took you, Buchanan.” Jason laughs, and the other guys whoop and cheer as I rake in his chips. Even Salem cracks a grin.

“Might’ve been worth being nicer to me that first day,” I say sweetly, and Archie’s scowl is a thing of beauty.

Everyone needs a break after that, so I grab a handful of chips and a can of Coke, then open up the window between Matt’s and Salem’s beds for some fresh air. The cool breeze feels glorious on my skin as I sink onto Salem’s (neatly made!) bed and take a drink of the lukewarm soda, the perfect antidote to the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I’ve already made enough money to cover my spending at the mall, and it feels so good to see Archie choke.

“You better not spill that in my bed,” Salem commands, but the corner of his mouth is quirked up.

“Come on,” I say as he sits down next to me, taking my can and helping himself to a sip without so much as wiping it off. “That’s not all you have to say to me, is it?”