The Winning Ticket

"Dylan, get up. We're late," I said, shaking my brother from his slumber. Dylan was younger than me by eleven and a half months. Mom called us her Irish twins, an expression that made no sense to me. We looked nothing alike. Dylan looked like Mom, with green eyes and curly brown hair, and I took after Dad, brown eyes, straight blond hair.

"I'm coming. Just hang on a sec, Finn," Dylan said as he rubbed his eyes awake, his hair sticking out in all directions.

We stumbled downstairs but paused when we heard voices. Mom was home from the hospital and talking to Aunt Sara, who stayed with us on the nights Mom worked in the ICU. I claimed we were old enough to be by ourselves now that I was a teenager, but that did not fly with Mom or Aunt Sara. Mom sounded distraught, my stomach clenched, but I inched closer to hear the conversation.

"I don't know what to do anymore. There is never enough money," said Mom.

"Maggie, I thought Dan was sending you child support," said Aunt Sara.

"He is, or he was. Work has been slow for him recently, and he hasn't given me anything for two months. I picked up some extra shifts at the hospital, which helps, but there's always something else. My car needs a new transmission, Dylan needs braces, groceries cost a small fortune with two ravenous boys, and…" Mom hung her head, sniveling into her hands, "and I just want us to have a good Christmas. Last year was hard because of the separation."

"Oh, Maggie, how can I help?"

"You already do too much.  I am so grateful to you for watching the boys all these nights."

"It's nothing. Anyway, I love being 'Cool Aunt Sara.'"

"I should pray for a miracle or play the lottery…"

I took this as our cue. "Good morning," we said in unison and then turned away swiftly to survey the contents of the fridge and give Mom a chance to wipe her eyes.

"You boys are running late for school. Grab something quick and get dressed."

"I'm going to head out now. Try not to worry, Maggie – things have a way of working out," said Aunt Sara, speaking softly to Mom as she leaned down and gave her a brief hug. "Dylan, Finn, be good to your Mom, and I'll see you Thursday," she said as the front door closed behind her.

"Mom, you look tired. Why don't you go to bed? Dylan and I can get to school by ourselves," I said.

"Really? That would be great. I am exhausted."

"We may be home a few minutes late if that's okay. We're going to play a bit of soccer with the guys," I said. Dylan shot me a confused look, which I pretended not to notice.

"Sure. Just for a bit, though; it's getting dark earlier these days."

Mom had left her purse on the table. It was lying there, the zipper half open, begging me to look inside. I unzipped it all the way and fished around for her wallet. Inside, two twenty-dollar bills stared up at me. I deftly pocketed one but left the other, and then carefully put the wallet back precisely where I found it and closed the purse halfway.

"What are you doing? You can't take that!" squealed Dylan.

"Dude, shut up. Do you want Mom to hear? I have a plan."

"What's your fabulous plan, Finn?"

"Look, just keep your trap shut and meet me at my locker after school."

  I was on edge all day at school. Mom's twenty-dollar bill was taunting me, calling me a crook. I ignored the accusation because there wasn't another option. We had to help Mom. 

Dylan and I met by the lockers, as planned.

"Since we're not playing soccer, what are we doing?" asked Dylan.

"Let's go. We don't have much time."

`Five minutes later, at the 7-Eleven, I walked straight up to the counter and slapped the twenty on the counter. I straightened up, hoping to appear more mature than my thirteen years.

"I want to buy some lottery tickets."

"You look a little young," said the bored, middle-aged, bearded man at the cash register. He looked slightly amused, which made me angry, but I pushed on.

"I'm plenty old," I said.

"Okay, kid. If you say so. What sort?" 

"Uh, I'm not sure. What kinds do you have?"

"We have Instant Win scratch-offs, Dailies, and Powerballs." Buying lottery tickets was complicated. Dylan glared at me, tugging on my sleeve, but I brushed him off. Think quickly, Dylan. Instant Win sounds about right. Mom needs the money now.

"How much are the Instant Win tickets?" I asked.

"Two dollars apiece."

"I'll take ten."

"Are you sure, kid? People usually don't win." Stop calling me, kid!

"Yes, of course, I'm sure. Ten Instant Win tickets, please." I slid the twenty across the counter.

"Here you go. Good luck," the man said, shaking his head. I stuffed the tickets in my coat pocket and shoved Dylan towards the door. 

"Don't say a word, Dylan. I don't want to hear it."

The walk home was awkward, filled with our unspoken words. Anxious thoughts occupied my mind. What had I done? What would Mom do when she noticed the money was missing from her wallet? What if she finds out I took it?

"We're home," I called out. There was no response from Mom as we hung up our coats and kicked off our shoes. Entering the kitchen, we stopped dead in our tracks.

"What's up, Mom?" I asked as I surveyed the sight on the table, the contents of her purse strewn everywhere like a crime scene.

"I swear I had forty dollars in here this morning. I can only find twenty. You boys haven't seen it have you?"

"No, Mom. Why would we have seen it? We were at school all day. We better get started on our homework, but we'll let you know if we find it."

As I shut the door to our room, Dylan pounced.

"We have to tell her."

"No way! She'll murder me."

"She's tearing the house apart looking for that money."

"Look, I can't undo it now. Do not breathe a word about this."

"But Finn, we can't let her think she lost that money."

"Shut up. Here are the tickets. You scratch off five, and I'll scratch off five. The instructions say you need three matching dollar amounts to win. If we win, we'll tell Mom what we did; if we don't, we take this secret to our graves."

Scratching at the silver paint, the knot in the pit of my stomach grew larger and larger. Two tickets down, then three, now four and five. Damn. I felt like throwing up. I looked over at Dylan, scratching furiously at his tickets.

"Dylan, you got anything?"

"No, nothing yet, but I have one more. What are we going to tell mom?"

"Keep your mouth shut. I'll think of something." We both jumped at the knock. Mom peeked around the door. 

"You boys finished your homework?" She paused, taking in the scene. "What's going on here? Are those lottery tickets? Where the heck did you get them? Answer me. Now."

"Well, we uh…wanted to help. This morning, you said you should play the lottery, and…" Dylan began.

"Mom, it's my fault," I said. "Dylan had nothing to do with it. I took the money from your purse. I thought we would win, and you'd be able to get the car fixed, and you wouldn't have to worry so much about braces and groceries and Christmas. I'm sorry, Mom. We'll pay you back."

"You certainly will." Her eyes narrowed, boring into me with the petrifying Mom look I hadn't seen since I smashed the kitchen window with my soccer ball. "I spent an hour looking for that twenty-dollar bill, and on top of that, we need that money. Give me those tickets. You stay here, finish your homework and think about what you've done. I'm going out."

"Dylan, I'm sorry," I started.

"Don't talk to me," he said, turning his back to me.

I messed up. Dylan was mad at me; Mom was mad at me. I didn't blame them - I was fuming at myself. How could I be so stupid? I would make it up to her. I'd figure out a way to make twenty dollars and then some. Outside, snow started to fall - the first snow of the season. We always loved to watch it together, the silvery-white snow transforming our ordinary neighborhood into a winter wonderland for a short time before it turned slushy and gray. I wished Mom would come home. The three of us would sit on the couch in the living room, warming our hands on mugs of hot chocolate, gazing out the window... 

I knew what to do. I grabbed Dylan and hurried him outside. We tramped around the neighborhood, offering our snow shoveling services. It was more like begging since the fallen snow was only a half-inch deep. Eventually, we convinced five neighbors – they must have seen the desperation on our faces. At five dollars a house, we made enough to pay Mom back.

Tired, cold, and hungry, we trudged home. Mom was not back yet. She had been gone a long time, and I prayed that she was okay. The snow was coming down faster now. I stuffed down my panic and tried to stay cheery for Dylan's sake. 

"Let's make some mac and cheese," I suggested.

"Okay."

We sat mutely, pushing the cheesy noodles around our bowls until they congealed to a solid mass. Where was Mom? She had been gone too long. I know she's disappointed in me, but she wouldn't stay out this long just to prove a point. Something must have happened to her. Dylan's face exposed similar thoughts to mine, but we didn't speak our fears - that would make them real. We did the dishes in silence; I washed, Dylan dried, our usual routine.

"Hi, boys. Sorry I'm so late," said Mom as she pushed open the back door with her hip, carrying a sizeable box, her hair dripping with melting snowflakes. She was smiling. Where had scary Mom gone? "Help me out, Finn."

"Sure thing." I took one end of the cumbersome box she was struggling to carry, and we set it on the table. "Mom, I'm sorry. We shoveled the neighbors' driveways and sidewalks and made twenty-five dollars. It's for you," I said, pulling the crumpled bills from my pocket.

"I'll take my twenty back - you keep the rest, but you are not off the hook. You are grounded for a week. I know you thought you were helping, but I cannot tolerate that behavior. No more stealing or lying." I did not argue with her; I was so relieved she was home.

"What's in the box?" I said. 

"You'll find out Christmas morning," she said with a grin and a small chuckle.

"I thought there was no money for presents this year," said Dylan.  "We don't need anything, Mom. Truly."

"After I took the lottery tickets, I noticed that you hadn't finished scratching-off one of the tickets. You had uncovered two $5,000 squares, and when I finished scratching, I found a third."

"Mom, that's so awesome!" I shouted.

"Woohoo!" said Dylan and did his goofy victory dance, the one he did when he scored a goal in a soccer game.

"Don't get too excited. We're not rich, but we are going to have the best Christmas ever. Come here and hug your mom, unless you're too big for that." Never, I thought, as Mom wrapped Dylan and me in her arms.