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things up by stealing
my
gold next time, he had another think coming.

Mom shook her head disapprovingly. "I don't like that Byron Berry. I've heard things about him, and I heard he was here. Did he give you those fireworks, Lily?"

"He didn't give me anything," I assured her, glad to be able to clear at least
his
reputation.

"You don't have to protect that boy."

"I'm not!"

Mom heaved a massive sigh. "Let me tell you what I think happened: You were mad at me for not staying home on your birthday. You were here by yourself, maybe a little bored, and Byron--or
someone
--gave you those fireworks, and you thought, 'Why not?' Except that you obviously didn't realize how dangerous fireworks are. You're lucky you still have both eyes!"

I nodded unhappily. That part, at least, was completely true.

"Some neighbors ran over, our window was broken, you found out I was on my way home, and you panicked. You bailed out your bedroom window to avoid facing the music. How am I doing?"

Not well. But letting her think what she wanted was better than having to lie.

I hung my head. "You make me sound like a bad kid."

Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hands.

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"I don't think you're a bad kid, Lily. The thought of you wandering the streets all night terrifies me, and if you ever scare me like this again, I'll probably hurt you myself.... But we all make mistakes. You gave me plenty of time to reflect on mine."

Her tone gave me the courage to meet her eyes.

"I think you must believe I value work over you," she said.

"Well ...
yeah
," I agreed sullenly.

"Lily, I need you to understand that you're the
reason
I work so hard. I don't like moving either, being so far from your gram and Aunt Sarah. I do it for you, for your future. You'll never be trapped by a job the way I am. I'm making sure you have options."

"You've never said you don't like moving before," I accused. "You always act like it's some big adventure."

"Because I wanted
you
to believe that. And that's another place I've failed. You aren't a little girl anymore. I can't just expect you to jump on board with whatever I decide. I'm going to explain things better, Lily, start talking them over with you. We're a team, you and I. There is no one and nothing more important to me than you."

"Really?"

"If something had happened to you last night and I hadn't gotten this chance to tell you how much I love you ..." Mom broke off, in tears again.

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I choked up right along with her. "I love you, too, Mom. I missed you so much."

"Okay, then." Rising from the table, she gathered me into her arms. "Let's just put this behind us and try to do better from here. I can do better, Lily." She laughed through her tears. "For one thing, you can be certain I'm taking your
next
birthday off!"

Mom stepped over to the counter. "I have birthday presents for you. We can open those later, but here's something special you'll want to see now."

She handed me a greeting card addressed in familiar green writing.

"Gigi!" I cried, ripping the envelope open.

"She must have left it with someone to mail for her, just in case she wasn't ..." Mom shook her head. "It got here a day late, but it's pretty amazing it got here at all."

The front of the card depicted some artist's idea of a leprechaun sitting on a toadstool formed by the number thirteen. He was about two inches tall and wearing Louis XIV shoes with heels, striped stockings, puffy green shorts, and a gigantic clover boutonniere.

"Oh, that is so wrong," I said, flipping the card open.

Its printed message read, LUCKY YOU! YOU'RE 13! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

And under that was a note from Gigi:

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Happy Birthday, Lilybet!

I want you to know how proud I am of you and of everything you've accomplished. I may
not
be there
in
person anymore, but you will always be the keeper of my heart.

The only way back is forward!

Love you forever,

Gigi

"'The only way back is forward'?" Mom said, reading over my shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just ... an inside joke," I said, sniffling.

Mom put her arm around my shoulders. "I've been too hard on your grandmother. I know she loved you, Lily. To plan that far ahead for a birthday card!"

"Yep. She was a keeper."

"And of course it
had
to be a leprechaun," Mom said, rolling her eyes.

"Um ... huh?" I asked cautiously.

"I've never told you this before--and I don't mean it as an insult--but your Gigi was a bit barmy when it came to leprechauns. All those clovers she collected? Plus she used to say things sometimes, like, How could we be so sure that leprechauns weren't real? Where did we think all those stories about them came from? One time she actually

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asked me, 'Maddy, if leprechauns
were
real, wouldn't they be fun to visit?'"

I felt a smile creep onto my face. Gigi certainly knew her way around a clover swear.

"It was all harmless fun, I guess, but I didn't want her filling your head with that nonsense--at least, not until you were old enough to know better. She promised she wouldn't, but I never knew. Your Gigi was a great one for getting her own way."

Mom shook her head, remembering. "I'll tell you what, though, Lily, I've never seen anything like that woman's luck."

I could only grin.

That night, alone in my bedroom, I sat and examined my keeper key. The familiar piece of gold was more precious to me now than ever, but I had found something even better: a way to go on loving Gigi without being sad anymore.

I would honor her memory by carrying on her secret legacy, and I'd do it with a happy heart, the way Gigi would have wanted.

"And someday," I whispered to the key, "I'm going to pass you down to a granddaughter of my own!"

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Epilogue Chapter 1

Of course my mom made me go to gymnastics the next day, but I barely even minded. I walked into the gym in my green leotard and Horace Green footies ready for just about anything Ainsley Williams's clique could dish out.

"Lily!" Marti Gregory exclaimed, startled by my pixie into admitting she knew me. "Your hair!"

"Yeah, I cut it," I said. "It was getting too long."

"It's cute!"

I know
. Giving her an empty smile, I took my usual place against the wall.

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Ms. Carlson walked in, clapping. "All right, girls! Let's start stretching."

Ainsley, Jayce, and their four favorite cling-ons grabbed the mat front and center. All six of them were wearing pink or lavender leotards with matching eye shadow and barrettes. I sat twenty feet away and began stretching my straddle.

"What's up with the freak?" I heard Jayce ask the others. "She cut her hair or something."

They all turned to look. Instead of glancing away, like I normally did, I stared back in a make-my-day kind of way. Their voices dropped to whispers.

"Where was she yesterday?" Ainsley asked.

"I heard she blew up her front porch, then ran away," Darci James reported. "This guy I know, Byron, saw the whole thing."

"Freak!" Jayce said again, but her accompanying look of scorn held new caution. I could tell I'd just been elevated from weak and pathetic to unpredictable and possibly dangerous.

Perfect.

"We're going to work on roundoffs this morning," Ms. Carlson announced, "but we're going to try them on the beam. Who wants to demonstrate?"

Every hand in Team Ainsley shot into the air. Marti

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caught my eye and shuddered, letting me know she'd be sitting this one out with me.

"All right, then. Ainsley," Ms. Carlson said. "Show us how it's done."

The whole class walked over to the balance beam. Ainsley hit the beatboard and sprang up onto the four-inch-wide surface, making her mount look easy.

"Roundoff on beam is just like on floor," Ms. Carlson told us, "except that your feet land toe to heel instead of side by side. Okay, Ainsley. Whenever you're ready ..."

Ainsley's tight features betrayed her nervousness. She took a couple of steps down the beam, then turned a slow cartwheel, adjusting her hips at the last second to try to convert it into a roundoff. The balls of her feet spun precariously on four inches of wood ... and kept on spinning. Her attempt ended in an ugly full-body wobble and a bailout jump to the mat.

"Not bad," Ms. Carlson said as Ainsley skulked back to her friends. "Nice first try. Who wants to go--?"

Jayce's hand hit the air before the question was finished. Being friends in that group didn't mean they didn't live to show each other up--and while Ainsley was the group's queen, Jayce was the better gymnast.

"Jayce. All right," Ms. Carlson said.

Jayce did a scissors mount, then stalked down the

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beam and pirouetted on its end, building up suspense with lots of showy shoulder shrugs and hand gestures. Finally, she got around to the actual roundoff. Her hands hit the beam fine, and so did her left foot, but her right foot missed completely and continued on through space. She didn't even have time for an Ainsley-style wobble before her free leg swung down, around, and back into the air, landing her butt-first in the crash pads beneath the beam.

"Nice," I said, applauding crisply. A few girls giggled behind their hands, secretly loving it as much as I did.

Ms. Carlson whipped around, intending to rip into the culprit. But finding out the culprit was me left her too surprised to speak.

"I suppose you think you could do better?" Jayce challenged angrily, struggling to her feet.

"I don't think I could do
worse
."

"Let's see you, then."
Freak
, her lips added tauntingly.

"Well now ..." Ms. Carlson had finally recovered her voice. "I'm not sure, Lily ... maybe on the practice beam ..."

But I already had a leg over the high beam. My feet swung onto the wood in front of me, and the next second I was standing up and hardly even shaking--at least, not until I looked down. Suddenly, calling Jayce's bluff didn't seem so smart anymore.

Maybe I wasn't feeling
this
lucky.

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"You don't have to do this, Lily," Ms. Carlson said. "In fact, I think it will be better if you don't."

Jayce smirked. I stopped looking down.

"What's the worst thing that can happen?" I asked. "I land on my butt, right? We've already seen that demonstrated, and about as well as it can be done."

Louder giggles made the rounds. Even Ainsley smiled. Jayce's cheeks turned scarlet.

"Lily--" Ms. Carlson began.

I launched into my roundoff before she could say another word. Both my hands hit the beam square.
Just like a line on the mat
, I told myself as my hips twisted over my head. My feet came down together, one behind the other. My footies stuck to the wood. The next thing I knew, I was standing again, totally balanced and facing the opposite direction.

"Lily!" Marti squealed. "You did it!"

I stood motionless another few seconds, long enough for the entire class to be sure I had nailed it. Then I jumped down to the mat, landing right in front of Team Ainsley.

"My name is Lily," I said. "Start using it."

"Lily! Lily!" Kendall's voice carried across the parking lot, stopping me outside the shopping center on my way home from gymnastics. Her sandals slapped the asphalt as she ran up to meet me, a pink paper bag swinging from one arm. I had been dying to see her but hadn't dared call; I

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was still trying to think of a clover-swear-proof apology that would make Kendall sure to forgive me.

"Lily! What happened?" she demanded. "My mom said you were playing with fireworks, and your mom said you took off, and I was really worried about you!"

"Sorry," I mumbled, embarrassed. "And sorry about the other night too--standing you up and missing the movie and all. I didn't actually plan for any of that to happen."

"That's okay. I mean,
yeah
, but ..." Kendall shook her head. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It was just one of those stupid things that will never happen again."
At least, not so far as anyone human will know
, I added to myself.

We stood there, nodding awkwardly, not sure what to say. "What did you get?" I finally asked, pointing to Kendall's pink bag.

"This? No, I wasn't shopping. I brought this from home."

"Oh." We started walking together, moving through the parking lot in the general direction of Baskin-Robbins. "Are you getting ice cream?" I asked.

"Aren't you?"

"Not today. My mom said to go straight home and text her the second I get there."

Kendall grimaced sympathetically. "Is she pretty mad?"

"Not as mad as I thought she'd be. Still, I'd rather not be late."