The Odds of Lightning Read Free Page A

still had to accomplish. Traditions were important. They gave your life purpose and structure and meaning. When the world got crazy and nothing felt permanent anymore, they helped tether you to the ground. They helped you remember who you were.
    Tiny felt like she’d hardly seen Luella at all this summer, which is why today’s traditions were extra important.
    Tiny and Luella—Tlu, as they called themselves often, or Talulah when they didn’t feel like abbreviating, or Tine or Tine-O or Loozles when they referred to each other individually—met at eight in the morning on the first and last day of every summer. They walked through Central Park to the Guggenheim, by far the coolest building in New York, and sat on the wall out front, watching the tourists. Luella would eat candy. Tiny would eat normal breakfast foods. It was always the same. It was comforting. Some things between you and your best friend should never have to change.
    Other traditions on the last day of summer were:
    Meeting Will and Nathaniel for a picnic lunch at the Alice in Wonderland statue by the boat basin.
    Getting gelato that night, and everyone had to pick the weirdest flavor possible.
    Doing one thing you’ve never done before.
    The last one was Tiny’s favorite. She looked forward to it every summer. She made lists throughout the year, saved up all of her firsts for that one special day, to keep the tradition intact.
    â€œTell me again how you can eat candy for breakfast?”
    â€œIt’s just one of my many lovable quirks.” Luella grinned. Her teeth were pink with melted candy. “Now tell me.”
    â€œYou know how I got my nickname,” Tiny said.
    â€œYes, but it’s hot and I’m bored and I want you to tell me.”
    Tiny put her notebook down.
    â€œOnce upon a time, there was a girl named Emma. She lived in New York City, the biggest, craziest, best city in the world. She wanted nothing more than to grow up into a strong, well-respected cultural icon. But one day, she angered a vengeful troll. And so he cursed her. With tininess. In perpetuity.” She picked her pen up and started writing again.
    â€œHm,” said Luella. “That’s not how I remember it.”
    â€œI took some storytelling liberties.”
    â€œGood job, Sister Grimm.” Luella squirmed, trying to see over her shoulder. “What are you writing?”
    â€œA poem.”
    â€œWhat’s it about?”
    Tiny flipped the notebook closed. “I can’t tell you.” It was a love poem, kind of. Luella would make so much fun of her if she found out.
    Â Â *  *  *  
    As always, the real story of how Tiny got her nickname was less epic than the fairy tale she’d made up about it.
    It all started when Tiny was little, in nursery school, or maybe kindergarten. Nathaniel had made up a game called Science Club. The four of them—Tiny, Nathaniel, Lu, and Will—used to huddle over Nathaniel’s kitchen table after school, pouring different ingredients into glass jars and documenting the results.
    Salt + Water = Salty Water
    Vinegar + Baking Soda = Frothy Bubbles
    That was back when Tiny went by the name Emma. Because that was the name her parents had given her, and no one had ever called her anything different. Even at five, Luella was always the dramatic one, and Nathaniel was the smart one, and Will was the funny one. Emma was just . . . Emma. The quiet one.
    Until the day everything changed.
    It was the day Tobias walked into the kitchen, carrying a robotic hand made of balsa wood. Four years older, Tobias was the real scientist. He won the science fair every year and always had the coolest project in the class. He had curly dark-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses, and was wearing a T-shirt with Han Solo and Chewbacca drawn in the style of Calvin and Hobbes.
    â€œGreetings, earthlings,” Tobias said. He pulled a rubber band at the base of the hand, and