Lucky Me by Cindy Callaghan

was carried away into the crowd.
    It was really loud with chanting, singing, and music. Finn got close to me and spoke right into my ear. “Looks like fun. Let’s hang out. Get a soda?”
    â€œOkay. But we’re looking for Anna.”
    â€œGot it.” Finn went off to grab us something to drink.
    I walked around in search of Anna in the huge crowd. Someone stepped on my foot, untying my shoelaces. As I bent down to tie them, someone tripped over my back, and the next thing I knew, Enzo was on the ground next to me.
    Someone asked him, “Are you okay?”
    Someone else yelled, “Call an ambulance!”
    Enzo stood up slowly, rubbed his head and his lower back. “No worries. I’m a tough rugby player.” Blood dripped from his hairline.
    Finn returned with two Cokes, stopping short when he saw Enzo. “Look what I did,” I said. “We have to find Anna O’Toole before something else bad happens.”
    I was pushed and shoved and found myself among the green team, the ones who’d lost the rugby game, but you’d never know it. They were covered in crusty mud, arm in arm, singing songs of victory. Someone threw an arm over my shoulder and included me in a row of high kicks, which I was good at, but I had to find Anna.
    A girl shouldered her way into the team with fists full of warm soft pretzels. She looked a little older than me and was tall and muscular. Her hair was short, the same color and wavy-frizzy as mine. Her eye was swollen, her lip was fat, and drops of dried blood were around her nose. She was très muddy. Everyone took a pretzel and patted her on the back.
    I asked her, “You played too?”
    â€œOf course. GIRLS RULE!” Her voice was high andgirly. It didn’t match her tough and dirty appearance. “Want a pretzel?”
    â€œSure. Thanks.” I took one. “I’m Meghan.”
    â€œHi, Meghan.” She took a huge bite of the pretzel. “I’m so hungry.” She took mustard packets out of her pocket. “You like mustard?” She opened one and squeezed it into her mouth.
    â€œSure,” I said. “On my pretzel.”
    She opened another and squeezed it onto both of our pretzels.
    Someone in a green shirt called, “Where is our MVP? Where’s our most valuable player?”
    Another player yelled, “Anna! Where’s Anna?”
    Anna?

Twenty-Four
    T he girl with the mustard called back, “Yoo-hoo. I’m over here.” She wiggled her fingers and tilted her head in a cute way, which was weird, considering she looked like a boy covered in mud.
    This was Anna? I took a closer look. Of course this was Anna! Besides the age and height difference, and the cuts and bruises, it was like I was looking into a mirror.
    â€œThere’s our girl!” A guy put a ridiculous green-and-white beret on her head. The way her hair stuck out underneath it made her look less like a punching bag and more like a girl.
    â€œAre you Anna O’Toole?”
    â€œThat’s me. How did you know that? I know I’m popular,but has word of my reputation reached America already?”
    â€œI don’t think so. But I’m sure it will soon,” I said. “You know, funny thing, I actually came here looking for you.”
    â€œYou did? Do you follow rugby? You don’t seem the type.”
    â€œThere’s a type?”
    â€œWell, they’re usually not American. Sometimes English or Scottish, and they’re usually taller.”
    â€œTaller?” I didn’t think I was short.
    She nodded and wiped mustard off her mouth with her arm.
    I said, “I was looking for you because of a letter, a chain letter.”
    â€œHey,” Anna said. “I got a chain letter too. Not that long ago.”
    â€œI know. You sent it to Clare, your cousin.”
    â€œThat’s right. We call her CiCi.” She looked surprised. “How did you know that? Wait, are you