It is a chilly October afternoon. The leaves are swirling around, chasing each other like they are a tornado. We both had a long day at school and being outside is relaxing. I am wearing an emerald green jacket, jeans and new leather boots. My best friend is wearing a sporty fleece, yoga pants and Nike sneakers. We both reach to step over a big puddle and see a powerball ticket. I curiously pick it up for fun, just to see how close that poor loser was to winning the 300 million dollar jackpot. I read off the ticket out loud:
“Lucky numbers 10, 15, 25, 44, and 51. Powerball: 19. Imagine if these were the actual numbers.” I say.
“Well let’s see how close they were” she says as she pulls out her gem encrusted iphone and starts typing while still trying to focus on walking down the sidewalk. She stops in her tracks asks:
“Can I see that?” Before I could answer she grabs the thin crinkled paper out of my hand.
“Oh my god, look, these are the right numbers” she says eyes wide with disbelief, I look at her phone in disbelief.
“How is this real?” I question. My eyes dart back and forth between the white iphone and crinkled piece of paper.
“I don’t know how but we are millionaires!” she replies and starts speed walking up the street kicking up newly fallen leaves.
“We? Don’t you mean I am a millionaire?” I ask trying to catch up to her blonde ponytail bobbing back and forth. I can feel my face beginning to flush red with anger.
“What? No, we both found it!” she angrily replies and glares at me.
“But I was the one that picked it up,” I say almost forgetting to turn the corner. Her tall tan house is in view now. The wind is starting to pick up and the leaves rustle in the background.
“Well let’s see what my mom thinks, she is a lawyer, after all.” She declares. She walks up the stairs, pulls open the big red door with an autumn wreath on it and I follow. She drops her bag onto the mahogany landing and runs up the stairs.
“Okay, fine,” I reply eyeing the paper clutched in her hand, trying to remember that money isn’t everything.
“Mom you will never believe this. We won the powerball!” She exclaims pushing the paper in her face. I arrive after her in the kitchen that smells of freshly baked brownies.
“Okay, honey.” She laughs looking at the paper and leaning against the granite countertop.
“No mom seriously! We are millionaires” she says as she glances at me, unlocks her phone and submits the evidence to her mother. She reads the paper and compares it to the numbers on the phone. She laughs again, points at the phone and says:
“These are the winning numbers from two years ago.”