The Power of the Scarab Beetle

When I told my friends I had a job interview the next day, Courtney immediately started digging through her backpack.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm about to make your interview a smashing success," she replied. Her grin was smug, like she was privy to a secret I was not. Her hands took out a wad of bubble gum wrappers, a pencil case, and a book that had been squashed at the bottom of it all. "Here! Take it!"
I took it. The others crowded in close.
"What is it?"
Courtney's lip quirked up in that unique angle - the one that warned us she was about to say something extremely weird. Her expression was deathly serious, hands coming up to grip my shoulders with an urgency I didn't share. "It's an amber-preserved scarab beetle."
Next to me, Rachel squealed and backed away about fifty feet. Courtney ignored her and plowed on, "If this doesn't snag you that dream job, then I'm sorry to say, honey, yours is a life of darkness and despair."
I squinted at it. The orange stone felt slightly sticky to the touch.
Rachel, from the other side of the square, called out, "You think a dead insect is going to help her land that job?"
"Not just any insect. A scarab beetle!" Courtney proclaimed. If nothing else, I hoped her utter confidence would rub off on me, even just a little, for tomorrow.
"Thanks but no thanks," I began.
"You of little faith!" she cried. "Believe in the beetle! You'll land yourself in that tiny little office cubicle in no time!"
"I really don't think--"
"Thank me afterwards by treating me to Kushari. There's a great Egyptian place that just opened."
The next week, I treated her to Kushari. It was delicious.

Word count: 298