The Lucky Winner (The Lucky Series Book 1) Page 4

  Good.

  Great.

  CHAPTER 9

  “I should start buying my lottery tickets there, too!” Zoe screamed, visibly exhilarated.

  The next morning, everybody was talking about Tesoro Gas Station where the one hundred and two million dollar Powerball winning ticket was purchased. People seemed quite determined to discover the identity of the winner. They knew it was someone who lived in town. There was no possibility anyone would visit this town and purchase lottery tickets. If the gas station were located right off the highway, maybe, but Tesoro Gas Station wasn’t.

  Rumors were the life blood of the people in my town, and something they all needed in order to survive. Not knowing who won the jackpot was like being fatally ill because of nutritional deficiencies.

  I kept my silence. The hardest part was keeping it a secret from Sophia and Zoe. We’d been discussing just about everything, and now I had to keep something so wonderful and amazing from them. But I couldn’t betray Mom’s trust. After all, I was a good girl.

  “Can you imagine not having to work ever again? I wouldn’t even have to save for my boob job! I could just get it. Just like that! Anytime I want. Wow, can you imagine?” Zoe couldn’t seem to get over her imaginary windfall.

  “When you have over a hundred million dollars, a boob job is all you can think about?” Sophia giggled. “I’d travel all over the world. See every country in Europe. Then I’d go to South America. I’d sail everywhere, too.” She looked up in a contented state of reverie.

  I felt strange. I had to restrain the urge to scratch my head until my hair looked like Doc in Back to the Future. I was overwhelmed by the thought of becoming a super rich girl overnight. Yet, I still didn’t have a bedroom with a door. We couldn’t even buy a new house. Mom promised we could after a while, but when would that be? I hoped it would not take three years. I could understand why they’d proceed with caution, but at the same time, I was frustrated as hell. After all, I was a bubbly teenage girl!

  “We should watch for any unusual actions by the people,” said Zoe. “Oh, my God, really. Who in the hell is the lucky winner?”

  Yup, that was why I had no choice but to agree with Mom. It was way too dangerous—not that my best friend would try to murder me or steal from us, but someone else might. Mom always warned me how fast people could change when money was involved. And unfortunately, it was very true.

  “They must be under a lot of pressure though. Whoever it is,” said Sophia, twirling her smooth, blonde hair. “I mean, can you imagine being stalked by everybody because of your money? No wonder the winner wants to remain anonymous.”

  Sometimes I wondered if Sophia were really my age. Not that she looked any older, but she was always so calm and sensible about everything. Maybe growing up so comfortably affected her like that. She never had to cry for more toys as a child. She had a whole room full of doll houses, the entire Barbie collection, stuffed animals, and anything else you could think of. I was relegated to one worn and torn Cabbage Patch Kids doll. And heck, Sophia certainly didn’t have to fight to get a door for her bedroom like a pathetic beggar, which I was—well, I’d been. Now I was the wealthiest girl in town. If only I could enjoy it…

  “I know, right?”

  Jerry put his arm around Sophia’s shoulder when he showed up out of nowhere. He’d never done anything like that since Sophia had terminated their brief relationship. Perhaps learning that Kyle liked Sophia strangely stimulated him, or he simply realized how pretty she was and how much he lost by not having her as his girlfriend any longer. I wasn’t sure.

  However, owing to the last incident, he’d quickly become—if he hadn’t always been—our worst enemy.

  “Excuse me,” Sophia yanked his arm off her shoulder.

  “Hey, I thought you were my girlfriend.”

  “In your wildest dreams!” said Zoe, raising her eyebrows nearly to the top of her head, while Sophia’s mouth dropped open as she struggled for words.

  Jerry shot a look at Zoe, but seemed to be seeking a peaceful encounter. I supposed that was his new strategy. Make friends with your enemies.

  “Zoe, I know you secretly dream about me,” said Jerry, lifting one eyebrow. That was his signature look—which many girls found irresistibly hot.

  “I dreamt about you wetting the hay bale, sleeping with the cows at my uncle’s ranch.” Zoe stuck her tongue out and seemed to be having some fun with him. Maybe his new strategy worked. At least for Zoe.

  “What are you doing here in our classroom?” I asked, impaling him with a hostile look. No matter how embarrassed I was over my brother’s nerdiness, he was still my brother. And Jerry had given him a nasty black eye. I had to show him how upset I still was about that.

  “Talking to the prettiest girls in school. And I mean that in the plural sense.” Jerry used his well-practiced smile.

  Jerry always aspired to become a model. He wanted to be featured on the cover of GQ magazine so badly. He was very confident that he’d make it happen. I was pretty sure he’d been practicing his smiles and cool looks in front of the mirror every morning for a long time.

  However, no matter how hard he applied his best work in trying to deceive us, I could see through it in a flash. Luckily, Sophia was smart enough to see right through it, too.

  “Well, you did. Now go. Bye,” said Sophia, turning her back to him.

  I caught a change in his expression. He didn’t take rejection very well. Especially in public. He was too narcissistic to think some girls wouldn’t fall for him. He erroneously believed that if he really tried to make Sophia his girlfriend again, he could—well, at least, that was his assumption.

  When he caught me looking at him, he quickly resumed his previous peacekeeping smile, as if he suddenly thought of another plan.

  “I’ve got to go now. Don’t miss me too much, baby,” he crooned, as if he didn’t hear anything that Sophia said.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Any scoops on the winner yet?” Zoe inquired after a giant gulp of spiked punch.

  A month had passed since Mom’s big winning, and Zoe was still talking about it. Not to mention, so was the whole town.

  After numerous consultations with financial advisers—and fifty-mile excursions to go to other ones in different towns—my parents had chosen to receive a lump sum and deposit it in a family trust. As Kyle had pointed out, they’d decided they didn’t want to risk having us encounter any problems if something happened to either of them. Mom had appointed herself and Dad as trustees, and Kyle and I were the beneficiaries. And with that, Mom’s seventy-one million dollars were safely secured in the bank.

  Kyle and I had received five thousand dollars each to deposit into our own bank accounts. We had to first promise not to spend it irrationally or so obviously it could arouse anyone’s suspicions.

  We’d been doing so well. We dutifully kept our silence as instructed. Things remained unchanged—just as quiet and boring as before. Except for one thing: I finally got the doors to my room! I chose a pair of French doors with frosted glass. I got blinds, too, for extra privacy protection. Since Dad was away for work, I’d hired a handyman to install them, and the entire project cost me six hundred and twenty dollars, but hey, I still had over four thousand dollars in my bank account! How awesome was that?

  Sophia’s sixteen-year-old cat, Furball came over and rubbed against my leg which stretched out of the giant bean bag I was sinking into.

  Suddenly, Zoe opened her mouth into the shape of an O. “Oh. My. God.”

  Sophia and I looked at Zoe, not expecting much. Zoe often exaggerated things so the words that came after saying Oh. My. God. (with a pause after each word) were usually nothing particularly wowing.

  “Maybe the winner is your secret admirer!” she exclaimed.

  Sophia’s eyes grew wider as she realized that this time, Zoe’s Oh. My. God. was actually shocking. “Zoe, oh, my goodness! You might be right. Why didn’t we think of that?”

  Sophia had recently received a five-thousand-dollar money order from an anonymous source. It arrived with a note that said: For your cat’s surgery.

  My heart raced. That must have been from Kyle. Was it really from him? Would he go that far? Would he so generously give someone five thousand dollars—all the money we received from Mom’s winnings—without taking any credit for it? When Sophia first told us about receiving the lavishly anonymous gift, of course I suspected Kyle at once. But I tried very hard to push that thought out of my mind. If he could hand over five thousand dollars to her without ever revealing his true identity, my next question was: how far would he go for his love? Would he sacrifice his whole life for her? It gave me the creeps. Big time.

  “I don’t think so at all.” My voice came out a bit louder than I intended.

  “Why? Don’t you think it makes perfect sense? It arrived after the winning ticket was announced, and whoever sent it had to have a lot of money if he could so easily give out five thousand dollars, just like that.” Zoe snapped her fingers.

  Zoe had a point. I just didn’t want her to have one.

  “Somehow, I just feel it’s not from him,” then I corrected my comment in a rush. “I mean, whoever won the lottery.”

  Zoe furrowed her brow as if she were watching an alien take over my body.

  It didn’t really matter if they believed the winner was her secret admirer. As long as Kyle didn’t identify himself, our secret was safe—that was, if Kyle had really given her the money order. Whatever the case, I felt awfully uncomfortable about the whole conversation. I was jittery, like I ODed on too much caffeine.

  Scooping a ladle full of punch from the big glass bowl, I poured it into my glass and downed it. It didn’t help much. Unfortunately.

  “Ella has go
od instincts,” said Sophia as she lifted Furball and placed her on her lap. “It might not have been from the winner. It really doesn’t matter who sent it.” She petted Furball affectionately, and Furball responded with a loud purr.

  I exhaled a long sigh of relief.

  Zoe’s mouth formed the O shape again. And so did her eyes. “It doesn’t matter who? Sweetie, have you gone completely, crazy insane? Do you not realize this? If you became his girlfriend, you’d be a millionaire, too!”

  Again Zoe had a point. For Sophia. Except being a millionaire’s girlfriend didn’t necessarily mean you were automatically a millionaire. Not unless you married him. But we were only sixteen.

  Now Sophia’s mouth became an O. “Oh, my gosh!” Sophia exclaimed. “You’re so insanely right!”

  The two girls shared a look of awe before screaming at the top of their lungs.

  “He could be eighty years old!” I shouted so they could hear me despite their shrieks.

  The cacophony instantly stopped, and Sophia turned to me with a dreadful look on her face. “Gosh, that’s true.”

  “So?” said Zoe. “Girls, here’s the ugly truth. Nobody’s perfect.”

  “Zoe, eighty years old? Come on! That’s like, my great grandpa’s age!” Sophia protested.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not having sex with him. He can’t.” Zoe’s eyes looked up in a state of wonder. “Oh, my God… could we go on a cruise around the world?”

  “Nope,” I cut in as I looked at Sophia. “You’d have to have sex with the grandpa, sweetie. All kinds of meds are available for it now. You know that.” I needed to smash their fantasy into the tiniest pieces possible.

  “Ewww!” Sophia scrunched up her nose.

  “Just close your eyes—it’s the same as screwing the hottest guy in town. I swear.”

  Zoe was just impossible.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Can we start thinking about buying a new house now? How about we move to Los Angeles so I can finally make my dreams come true and become a Hollywood star?” I asked Mom as soon as I arrived home one day.

  I’d stayed at Zoe’s after school, so Mom was already home. We were supposed to hang out at Sophia’s but she’d disappeared during the lunch break and ditched the rest of the day without telling us. That was so not her. Zoe and I kept texting her, and she finally wrote that she felt sick in the bathroom and had gone straight home. She said she was really sick and asked us not to come over and check on her. That made us worry terribly, but we figured we’d just talk to her tomorrow.

  I’d been wanting to ask Mom about buying a new house ever since the one-month anniversary after the winning. However, I had to admit, the thought of moving away from Sophia and Zoe made me very sad. I’d never looked at it from that angle until then. Now that we actually had the financial ability to do so, I began to see the cons of it. The three of us spent so much time together ever since we were little. But the truth was, people moved all the time. It was rare when people chose to stay in their birthplaces forever—well, not including my parents, my grandparents, my great grandparents, and most of the people in Littleside.

  Well, we could always build a new house here temporarily, and think about moving to Los Angeles after my graduation or something. Yeah, maybe.

  “Mom,” I dropped my bag on the floor as I searched for her in the house. Evidently, it was hard to get lost in a thousand-square-foot house—I found her in her bedroom with the door open.

  “Mom. Did you hear me? I waited for a while just like you told me, and now it’s time. People aren’t talking about the lottery anymore. It’s ancient history. So we’re safe.” I lied. Everybody was still talking about it. “We could even build a—”

  “Someone was in my bedroom.” Mom mumbled before I could finish the sentence.

  “What?” I wrinkled my nose.

  “Someone was in here,” she repeated as her eyes searched the entire room. Her back was still facing me.

  “Why do you say that?” I didn't like the tone of her voice at all. It gave me the creeps.

  “The photos,” she pointed at the photo frames on the nightstand. “Someone moved them.”

  She slowly turned around and looked at me. I surveyed her face for a second. She looked very serious. In fact, she seemed to be shaken to the core. And for what? Because the photo frames were moved a little? Dad could have done that. Or she could have done that herself when she cleaned.

  Has she lost it?

  “Maybe Dad touched them.” I said with a sigh. I wanted her to stop acting so unnecessarily nervous. Seriously.

  “Dad never comes to this side of the bed. This is my side.”

  I sighed again. “Maybe you touched it in your sleep. Or when you were cleaning. Big deal.”

  Mom’s eyes fixed onto mine.

  “I always put these behind this,” she pointed at the picture frames as she continued. “This one with you as a baby was here, and this one with Kyle, over here. And this picture of all of us together at the church goes over here. In front.”

  I remained silent for a moment. If I thought she was completely crazy, or wanted to deny her claim, I couldn’t because deep inside, a small part of me doubted that it was purely her imagination. I knew how OCD she was when it came to keeping everything neat and exactly in the same location. She cleaned the house often, but always put everything back exactly the way it was. If she placed the photo frames in a certain arrangement, she would never change it.

  “Maybe Kyle was looking at the pictures,” saying that, I knew it could never be possible. He hated pictures. Especially his own. Besides, he never hung out in our parents’ bedroom.

  Right…?

  “You didn’t find anything rearranged in another part of the house, right?” I asked, but only because I wanted her to stop talking like a lunatic. “Was Kyle home before you?” I could hear his stupid video game from his closed room.

  Kyle had bought a second-hand TV so he could play his video games in his own room. I wondered why he didn’t buy a brand new one especially after getting five thousand dollars. Cheap bastard. But if he really were the one who’d given Sophia the money for her cat’s surgery, then he wouldn’t have had any money left to buy a brand new TV, would he?

  “Yes…” Mom answered after a pause.

  “And he didn’t say anything, right?” Not that he’d have noticed anything.

  Mom kept her gaze on me as if she were trying to communicate using only her eyes.

  I needed to calm her down.

  “Kyle,” I knocked on the door to Kyle’s bedroom. The sound of the video game got louder all of a sudden. Did he turn it up to ignore me? Jerk!

  “Kyle!” I knocked harder.

  “What?” he shouted from inside.

  “Did you notice anything unusual when you got home? Mom thinks there might have been an intruder.”

  “No,” he answered.

  Wouldn’t you be the slightest bit curious if someone said there might have been an intruder in your house? He was so different from me and impossible for me to understand. I seriously wondered whether he’d been adopted.

  I came back to Mom’s room and found her peeking under the bed, making sure no one was hiding there. Quietly approaching the closet, she opened the door. It was easy to see no one could have been hiding there—it was too small of a closet. She reached inside and grabbed a baseball bat that was hidden behind the hanging clothes.

  My face turned into a grimace. “Mom. Don’t scare me,” I said in a low voice. I didn’t even know she had a baseball bat in her closet. Furthermore, I could never imagine her swinging it at anyone. She just wasn’t that type. Although, in a way, it was fairly understandable, considering we were usually alone in the house because Dad was often out of town. Even though we’d been doing an excellent job at concealing her winnings, I knew she’d been crazy nervous ever since that day.