Cover

Dedication

For Emily.

10 Rules for Living a Lucky Life

From the author of Get Lucky: A Player’s Guide to Poker and the star of Get Lucky TV!

1. Don’t take things personally.

2. Look for the upside.

3. Never show an unlucky hand.

4. Learn about people. Then learn about cards.

5. Put together a winning team.

6. You’ve got to answer the door when luck knocks.

7. Don’t chase a losing streak.

8. If your cards keep coming up bad, change the deck.

9. Surf the waves of fortune.

10. Avoid the negative.

1

Hey, Larry,

I know you’re really busy right now and will get back to me when you can. That’s what your housekeeper said when I called your house because you didn’t answer my texts or DMs. No problem, man. I get it, even though it’s kind of weird not to talk to you for so long. I’m not taking any of it personally. That’s the first Rule for Living a Lucky Life: Don’t Take Things Personally!

But I thought I might write to you about how it’s going here, so I don’t forget anything when we finally talk again. Don’t worry—I won’t actually send you a whole bunch of letters. That would be weird. But I might use them for notes when my mom and my sister and I move back to Vegas and everything goes back to normal.

Hey! Do you think letters like this would work for our Personal Writing assignments? I know we’re not allowed to take that course until seventh grade, but maybe this will help me get a head start.

The main thing I wanted to tell you is that it’s impossible to let people know you used to be cool, especially when you can’t tell them who you are. You can’t just walk up to them and say: Hello there! You may not know this, but at my old school, I had friends and some people thought I was funny. A couple of girls, such as Trelawny Johnson, even said I was handsome or whatever. Explaining former social success is not cool. It’s like a catch-23, or whatever that’s called.

As you know better than anyone, Lar, the coolest thing about me was always my dad, and my mom says we can’t mention him here. What good is having a dad who is a famous professional poker player who wrote Get Lucky, one of the best-selling poker books of all time, and who is also the star of Get Lucky TV if you can’t mention it? You know how it is since your mom is the head producer of Get Lucky TV, and we get to share in the glory together. Anyway, the point is that we’re using my mom’s last name until “things settle down.” Whatever that means.

Which reminds me, I’m sorry about your mom and everyone else who lost their jobs when the show got canceled. My dad says it’s just temporary until everything gets figured out. As soon as that happens, everyone can go back to work, and we can come home, and things will get back to how they used to be. I just want you to know none of what they’re saying is true. Missy Stephenson is not telling the truth. My dad didn’t do what she said. He would never do that to someone, especially not a celebrity guest who is also a movie star. I really hope you know that. My dad’s whole job is taking famous people to high-stakes games. As if he would ever do something to one of them!

You might be wondering why we just disappeared a couple of weeks ago. Maybe you’re even a little mad about it. Well, we had this family meeting, and my dad explained the misunderstanding that happened at work. It was pretty bad. The meeting, I mean. No one likes family meetings, unless they’re about where to go on holiday. Even then they’re not that fun in our family because my sister hates sunshine and joy. But this meeting was extra bad.

My mom didn’t speak the whole time. My dad said he had to go away for a while because of the misunderstandings and false accusations. But he promised it would all work out and that we should follow his Rule #2 for Having a Lucky Life: Look for the Upside. As you know, my dad’s English accent always makes him sound like he knows what he’s talking about and like you can trust him.

My mom and Kate were so upset we didn’t really finish our terrible family meeting, which was a relief. But right after, like the same day, my mom made me and Kate pack up our stuff and she drove us here, and my dad went to a treatment center for people who are having problems, like being addicted to drugs or gambling, which is quite sardonic (I think that’s the word?) seeing as he’s a professional poker player and gambling is sort of his job, or it used to be. I guess in his case he’s staying there to help with how it feels to be misunderstood for being funny and friendly and maybe giving a few too many hugs to celebrities who aren’t used to being touched so they accuse you of taking liberties and ruin your whole life, and the lives of your children.

You might not even know where we are since you aren’t reading my messages. My mom and sister and I moved to my mom’s cousin’s house in Stony Butte, Arizona, to get away from everything for a while. We have been here for two weeks now, and today is the first day of sixth grade. Even though our school in Vegas, Circle Square, has its issues, such as too much talking about what color our feelings are, it’s about a thousand times better than Stony Butte Elementary, at least so far. I’m writing this on my lunch break, so maybe things will get better? I wore my Doug Stokes shirt. Remember when we got those? Anyway, I thought people might notice it, but so far nothing. Probably should have worn my Van Johnson shirt. I was going to save that T-shirt for tomorrow.

Okay, well, you’ll probably never read this, but even so, I hope your first day was good. I don’t want to say I miss you and Trelawny and Emily and Monty, the whole first-name-ends-with-a-y Circle Square gang, because that would be embarrassing, but I do sort of wish I was there.

Keep it casual!

Rodney

2

Hey, Larry,

Okay, so I have to tell you about the afternoon.

If the first morning at Stony Butte was lame, the first afternoon was…whatever is a lot worse than lame.

Here’s the deal. I know you’ll appreciate this. Like I said before, I wore my Doug Stokes T-shirt. Remember how when we showed up at Circle Square last year with our Doug Stokes shirts, everyone was impressed, and they wanted to hear about how he came to my house for a pool party and a barbecue, and you and your mom were there, and we got some major points for that? So I was happy when the kid who sat next to me in homeroom noticed my shirt after lunch.

“Who’s that?” he asked, after staring at the big picture of Doug’s face.

“Doug Stokes,” I said. I thought he would say awesome or ask where I got it. I was ready to tell him how Doug was a nice guy, even though my dad said that for a smart guy, he’s terrible at poker, and how my friend Larry and I went to a taping of his show. I hoped that would give me a chance to get the conversation going so I could implement Rule #4 for Living a Lucky Life: Learn about People. I was relying on my Doug shirt to get things rolling.

“Who’s Doug Smokes?” asked the kid. He is massive and has dark hair in a flattop brush cut. He looks like he might ride BMX or motocross or something. He looks like the kind of kid who might have a gun that his dad gave him.

“Stokes,” I said. “Not Smokes. You don’t know him? He’s the star of The Doug Stokes Show. It’s super funny. He makes fun of people who don’t believe in science or climate change or evolution and people who think the earth is flat and religious people who don’t understand about dinosaurs. He’s hilarious.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, which probably wasn’t easy because they already were practically closed from how angry and suspicious he was.

“What did you say?” he said, his voice low.

“I’m sorry?” I knew I’d messed up somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where. You’re better than me at reading people. Maybe you would have known to be quiet. Unfortunately, I didn’t.

“Did you say religious people are dumb?”

I felt myself start to blink, which I do when I get stressed. I never used to blink much. That has changed since we moved to Stony Butte. These days I’m a blink lord.

“No,” I said, sounding weaselly, even to myself. “I never said that. I’m quoting Doug.”

“God is no joke, and He will strike down anyone who sullies his name,” said the kid.

“Oh.” I’d heard of people like this kid, but I never met one before.

“I should punch you in the face,” he said. “For making fun of God.”

“I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to. I like God.” I said this even though I don’t know anything about God because my parents messed up big time and forgot to teach me any religion. “Doug is just—that’s his shtick, I guess. Making fun of people who don’t, uh, agree with him.”

“What’s a shtick?” asked the kid. I didn’t say anything because what if I made him even madder? I didn’t answer, but he kept going, getting more worked up. You would have freaked out if you were there, Larry. Seriously. It was bad.

“Shut up,” he said, even though I didn’t say anything. “Before I shut you up.”

The kids around us were staring, and not in an I-feel-your-pain kind of way. Except for a girl sitting at the table next to us, who looked curious. She had a single braid wrapped around her head about four times.

“Did you meet him?” she asked. “Doug Stokes?”

Relief! Someone understood that it was cool to know Doug Stokes!

“Yeah. He came over for a party at our house. Our old house, I mean. Where we lived before here. We had a barbecue and everyone swam in the pool, including Doug. He came over to play p—I mean, there were a lot of people there. It was awesome. If you knew Doug like I knew Doug—” I said.

“A pool?” interrupted the girl. “An aboveground? Or an inflatable?”

“Uh, no. It was a proper pool. Olympic size.”

She made a sound like she was spitting out a bug and then repeated my words in a high-pitched voice. “He came over for a party and swam in our proper in-the-ground pool. Olympic-sized.”

“Oooooh,” said a guy sitting behind me. “I had no idea my grandma’s aboveground pool wasn’t proper.”

A bunch of other kids were snickering. It was time to shut up. I stared down at my desk. I wanted to get up and move away from the angry God-defending boy and the angry in-ground-pool-hater girl, but I was too scared. I wanted to button my long-sleeved shirt up over Doug’s face. You know how the only sports we’ve ever really done are Ping-Pong and a little bit of water polo? Well, my advice to you is to take up boxing and maybe running. Because Ping-Pong and water polo leave a person defenseless against attack. I never thought I’d need self-defense. You don’t need it when you have friends.

At least no one punched me on the first day, so that’s something. I kept my mouth shut for the rest of school so I wouldn’t make anyone else mad. I also kept my shirt buttoned up so no one would see Doug’s face. Just like me, Doug wasn’t popular here.

Like I said before, I hope your first day of sixth grade was better than mine was. We’ve been here for two weeks and it feels like six years.

TTYS. Or not.

Rodney

3

Hey, Larry,

Me again. I thought you might like to know more about where we are and about my second day at the lamest school in the world. The house is kind of interesting and also depressing. It’s small and old and not too nice, but the walls are covered in these big photos that my mom’s cousin Maria took. They’re pictures of her mountaineering and rock climbing, so they show incredible skies and mountaintops and cliffs and people sleeping in slings on the sides of mountains. Maria’s pictures make me feel like I should go outside more. Maybe we should go to a climbing wall when I get back. You’d probably be good at climbing. Remember that time we went to that basketball player’s house in Los Angeles for my dad’s show? It was me and you and my dad and your mom and the crew, and the player had an actual full-sized climbing wall in his house. And a full-sized basketball court. And a home theater with those big fancy chairs. Remember how we didn’t do any sports, even though the player said we could? Instead, we went to his theater room and watched Black Panther for, like, the fourth time and ate proper movie popcorn until your mom made us go back to the hotel? That was a fun one.

Anyway, so the photos are nice. But that’s about it. Everything else in the house is old, like it-came-from-a-dumpster old, because Maria doesn’t believe in buying new things. She sure wouldn’t like life in Vegas much!

Stony Butte Elementary is sort of like Maria’s house, minus the cool photos. It’s about three hundred years old and smells like someone ate a couple of pounds of glue and then barfed it back up.

Maria’s house is right on the edge of town, near one of the buttes, which are big rocks that stick up in the air. They remind me of Tonka toys a giant forgot to pick up. The butte closest to us has two rounded parts on top and it looks like a big bum in the sky. Seriously. It’s kind of crazy. The rock butts are the only reason this town exists, far as I can tell. People come here to climb them and mountain bike up them and jump off them. Quite a few Western movies have been filmed here, as my mom has pointed out about twelve hundred times, because she seems to think that will make me like Stony Butte more. Does anyone under sixty even watch Western movies?

Here’s an interesting thing. Yesterday, my mom picked us up after school, but from now on I have to walk home alone. Can you imagine us doing that at Circle Square? The teachers would have called the authorities! Mom says we have to walk home alone every day because she is going to be busy working and because she can’t afford to have someone come and pick us up. It’s no fun being broke, but when my dad gets out of treatment, he can play a few big games and he’ll be back on top and things can go back to normal. Rule #6 for Living a Lucky Life: You’ve Got to Answer the Door When Luck Knocks. At least I think that’s the rule that fits best here.

I guess Maria, who travels all over the world with her girlfriend who’s also a climber, said we could stay as long as we want if we pay her mortgage. Considering how not-nice her house is, it’s probably about five dollars a month.

Anyway, today I was about halfway home from school when someone rode up beside me on a BMX bike. No helmet! Who rides a bike without head protection?

He nodded his helmet-less head at me and I nodded back.

“I’m in your class,” he said, pedaling slowly. I’d never seen anyone pedal that slowly before. You’d have been impressed.

“Oh,” I said.

“I’m Ben,” he said.

I was so shocked by the no-helmet thing that I didn’t know what to say.

Then Ben jumped his bike on and off the curb sideways and sort of swung it around 180 degrees under him. With no helmet!

“Don’t worry about Chum,” said Ben when he was beside me again. “He goes to my church, but he hasn’t quite figured out the whole peaceful thing. He probably won’t punch you. He likes to threaten people he knows he can beat up. If he punches you, he’s not doing it for God. He’s doing it because he can’t control his emotions.”

Then Ben turned his bike around and started riding backwards! He was the best bike rider I’ve ever seen. He turned around so he was going forward again and stopped his bike and moved it back and forth in place. It was like magic.

When I got over the shock of how good a rider Ben was, I noticed that he talked like a Circle Square kid. I wasn’t expecting that from a kid from Stony Butte. I also wondered about Chum’s name. My dad calls people chum sometimes. It’s British for “friend,” but it’s also a kind of fish that you feed to other fish. Either way, it’s a strange name.

“Our pastor’s working with Chum, but he’s kind of a case. Probably has home trouble. Same with Lallie. She’s the girl with the braid. She gets offended a lot. It’s kind of her thing. I wouldn’t take it personally. Does your house here have a pool?” he asked.

It was interesting that he said the thing about not taking things personally. Maybe Ben read my dad’s book! Obviously, I couldn’t ask him, but I wondered.

I shook my head.

“Bummer,” said the kid. “I’d like to know someone with a pool. Guess I’ll have to keep looking. Nice to meet you. Okay, I gotta go.”

“Bye,” I said, and he waved back at me as he rode away.

Somehow, just from that one little talk I felt better about the day, which wasn’t quite as bad as the first one. It made me think I could survive living in Stony Butte until we could go home.

At the end of the block, I could see our little house, all by itself. It has exactly no trees around it and the street and the sidewalk ends right in front of it. Kaput. No more street. Past the house are dirt trails that head off into the park toward the butte, but they are only for bikes and hikers. Last stop before the butt. That’s us.

I let myself in with the key. The house was dark, but I could hear noise coming from Kate’s room. My mom was at an appointment with an employment counselor.

Here’s the thing: I might be able to handle living in Stony Butte for a while, but I wonder if Kate can. I really think I might be better at coping with change than she is. I know you think Kate is awesome because she’s actually nice to you, but you don’t have to live with her. You’re lucky not to have a sister.

She’s been losing weight ever since we got here. And she had no weight to lose because she’s been on a diet since she was ten. I paid enough attention in our health class to know that’s not healthy. I still remember when your mom tried to talk to Kate about how eating properly is a human right and how she should claim her space in the world by staying strong and healthy. Only your mom could talk to Kate like that. Kate’d take my head off if I tried. Right now, she’s not eating carbs, and my mom says she’s worried about her, but she can’t really say anything about it because she’s not eating carbs either.

To be honest, I’m not even sure what carbs are. All I know is that they’re in most things that are delicious, such as chips, fries, candy, and pop. Also, beets and cashews. I know this because my mom and my sister had a huge fight last night because my mom made a dish that had beets and cashew butter in it, and my sister said she wouldn’t eat it because of carbs, and my mom said Kate was taking things too far, and Kate said maybe my mom didn’t take things far enough.

I have no idea what she meant and I don’t want to know.

I don’t get involved in the negativity or arguments. After all, Rule #10 literally says: Avoid the Negative. I also try to mind my own business, which is why I didn’t want to tell Kate I was home. But it’s also important to be friendly, so I knocked anyway. I tried to do it in a casual way, not a checking up on her way. The not-eating thing makes me want to check on her a lot. She hates that. I guess because it’s negative. I don’t know. You were always better than me at following that rule.

“What?” she said through her door, which is all scuffed up like all the doors in the house.

“I’m home.”

“Duh,” she said. Kate doesn’t think it’s important to be friendly or easygoing. I think it’s from not enough carbs, probably. Not that I’d ever risk my life by saying that to her.

“Have a good day?” I asked.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Enough already, Rodney.”

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

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