“What?” Casey was excited by the prospect. “What?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I thought I heard someone calling me. I’m wrong. It’s nothing.”

Casey shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything. But keep your ears open.”

When she’d heard her name again and then again, she felt a mild sadness pressing down on her shoulders, taking hold, but she said nothing.

In fact, neither one of them said much as they meandered, hands shoved into their pockets. After one particularly long silence, dense with thoughts of Epiphany, Amelia announced, “Oh, hey, that’s my house.” She tipped her head.

“That one?” said Casey, jutting his chin.

“Yeah. Do you want to come inside? There’s a good chance there’ll be homemade cookies.” She waited, shifting uneasily in and out of a pool of deep shadow. For a second she regretted the invitation, thinking he’d respond by saying something about her mother baking the cookies.

But he didn’t. He said, “Sure.” And they walked through the back door into the kitchen, drawn by the warm golden light.

15 • Lucky Penny

“These cookies are exquisite,” said Casey.

“Well, thank you,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Oh, I do. Thank you.”

“And you’re very polite,” added Mrs. O’Brien.

The two of them seemed encased within a circle of mutual appreciation. Amelia watched them, feeling—feeling what? Feeling that seated before her were the two people currently in her daily life she was most comfortable with. Her heart rose up, and she let out a joyful sound—a short, piercing eeep.

“What was that?” asked Casey, laughing.

“Just a happy, I-love-this-cookie noise,” said Amelia, downplaying her happiness.

“As I said: exquisite.” Casey reached for another cookie.

“You two are going to make my head swell,” joked Mrs. O’Brien.

“That,” said Amelia, “would never happen.”

“Exquisite,” said Casey again, holding up his cookie, admiring it from every angle before taking a big bite.

If any other boy their age had used the word exquisite, it would have sounded phony, but Amelia thought that Casey was as sincere as could be. And, he was so different from any boy she knew at school. Not that she knew any of them well.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Amelia wished this moment would last and last, that this scene would grow and unspool and carry her away. She saw the kitchen as if she’d never seen it before. A hundred thousand things were going on in her head.

Her life tended toward the narrow, the limited, and today, right now, it was leaning toward something different, something more, toward what she imagined most people had every day.

Casey pulled a penny from his pocket and spun it on the tabletop. “I found this today,” he said. “A lucky penny. So, I guess it’s my lucky day.” He stared at the penny as it wobbled and fell flat. “It would have been more lucky if we would have found, you know . . .” His eyes drifted up to Amelia’s.