“With a zipper and everything.”
“Okay,” he says as we grab our coats from the hooks near the door. “But you know this means I can’t let you out of my sight.”
I smile as I step into my rubber boots.
“I mean it,” Teddy says. “I’m gonna be your shadow. You couldn’t lose me if you tried.”
“Believe me,” I tease him, “I’ve tried.”
When he bumps me with his elbow, my heart gives a little hiccup. I shove him right back and he sidesteps away from me, laughing. It all feels so normal between us, like the kiss was some sort of distant dream, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed by this.
Once we’re ready, and the plastic-clad ticket is zipped securely into my bag, Teddy reaches for the doorknob. But just before opening it, he pauses and turns back to face me. His mouth is twisted up to one side, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.
“Hey, Al?”
“Yeah?”
“We just won the freaking lottery,” he says, his voice filled with awe, and I laugh, because it’s ridiculous and incredible and true. Somehow I picked not just one or two or even three of the numbers, but all of them. The odds of that happening have to be astronomical. Yet here we are.
Teddy’s watching me, his eyes shining, and I grin back at him.
“You just won the freaking lottery.”
He puts a hand on the doorknob then lets it slip off. “Al?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” he says, turning to fold me into a hug, and there’s something about it—the wonder in his voice or the thud of his heartbeat through his jacket or the way his chin rests against the top of my head—that causes a lump to rise in my throat.
Outside, the sun is bright against the hard-packed snow, the world blinding and full of glitter. The sidewalks aren’t plowed yet, but a set of deep footprints forms a path up the street toward the Lantern, our favorite diner, and I walk ahead of Teddy, one mittened hand clutching the strap of my bag.
As we make our way through the snow I look around, trying to decide if the world seems different this morning. There are people shoveling their walks, and kids running by with plastic sleds, and dogs bounding through the mountainlike drifts made by the plows. It’s the first day of February, the morning after a snowstorm, a Saturday in Chicago like any other.
Except for the ticket that’s burning like a coal deep in the pocket of my bag.
Behind me I can hear the crunch of Teddy’s boots and the ragged sound of his breathing. “Next time,” he says, “we’ll be able to take a cab.”
“It’s only three blocks,” I say, but he’s right, of course. Next time we won’t have to trudge through the snow or wait outside in the icy wind for a bus. From now on we can afford to take a taxi. Or at least Teddy can.
I know how silly it is to feel a pang of loss over this. For starters, rich people probably don’t even take cabs; they probably skip right to limos or maybe even helicopters. But even though a taxi is a pretty pitiful excuse for a lottery fantasy, it’s always been a luxury for us, the kind of thing we dream about on days like this.
And it’s the first small sign that things will soon be different.
As we near the Lantern, I can see Leo sitting at our favorite table by the window, his head bent over a menu. When Teddy pushes open the glass door, a familiar bell rings out and we’re greeted by a burst of warmth and the sweet smell of waffles.
Together we walk toward the table, and when we’re both standing over it Leo lowers his menu, squinting up at us through an old pair of glasses.
“This better be good,” he says, and Teddy smiles.
Once the whole story comes out, Leo simply stares at us.
“Why in the world,” he says finally, “are you telling me?”
Teddy blinks at him in confusion. “Uh, ’cause you’re my best friend, and I just figured—”
“No,” Leo says, lowering his voice like a shifty character from a heist movie. “I mean, why aren’t you talking to a lawyer or something right now?”
“Oh,” Teddy says. “Because I figured you’d know what to do.”
After that Leo doesn’t even let us order. Instead he marches us straight out of the diner.
“Sorry,” Teddy calls to the baffled waitress as we abandon our table. “I promise I’ll leave a really big tip next time.”
She just rolls her eyes, which is fair enough, considering he usually leaves her a pile of lint-covered coins. But it makes him laugh all the same.
Back at the apartment we kick off our boots and shed our coats, then sit three in a row on the couch, staring at the plastic bag with the ticket while we wait for Teddy’s mom and Leo’s parents—whom they called on the snowy walk back from the diner—to come over and take charge. Katherine McAvoy was just finishing up her extra shift at the hospital, and Aunt Sofia and Uncle Jake promised to be there as soon as they dug out the car. None of them have a clue why they’re being summoned, since Teddy is determined to deliver the news in person.
As we wait for them, it occurs to me for the first time that between the three of us, we have exactly half the usual number of assigned adults. Three parents. Three kids. Two patched-together versions of a family.
Leo is the one to keep breaking the silence. “This is bonkers,” he repeats every so often, looking at the ticket in awe. “Totally bonkers.”
“I know,” Teddy says, a little wild-eyed.
“Bonkers,” I agree, still slightly numb.
“You won the lottery,” Leo says to Teddy, as if this fact might’ve slipped his mind. He drops his head into his hands, mussing up his dark hair, then turns to me. “And you bought the ticket. This has to be the craziest thing that’s ever happened. Ever.”
By the time Katherine McAvoy shows up, we’re all wired too tight. Teddy is pacing, I’m making coffee, and Leo is on his phone, looking up what happens when you win the lottery. As soon as we hear a sound at the door, we all freeze. And then Katherine appears, still wearing her green scrubs, her short blond hair falling over her eyes as she fumbles with the keys, bleary after working back-to-back shifts.
She stops short when she sees us all staring at her.
“Hi,” she says, drawing out the word in a way that suggests our efforts to look normal have failed. She arches an eyebrow. “What’s up, guys?”
Teddy takes a step forward. He looks like a little kid trying to wrestle with a big secret, his face practically glowing with the news. “Hi, Mom,” he says, leaning one arm on the couch in a futile attempt to seem casual. “We’ve, uh, got something to tell you, actually.”
From where she’s still standing by the door, I can see Katherine stiffen; it’s clear from the set of her jaw that she’s steeling herself. But Teddy sees this too, and he immediately shakes his head.
“No, it’s okay,” he says, hurrying over. He grabs her hand and half-drags her to the green armchair beside the couch. She’s still wearing her coat, and when she sits down it puffs up all around her so that she has to stuff it back down. “It’s a good thing, I promise.”
“Teddy,” she says wearily. “It’s been a long night.”
“I know, but believe me, you’re gonna want to hear this. Listen, do you remember that time we tried to steal—actually, never mind. Remember how you used to tell me never to—”
“Teddy,” I say, setting down my coffee mug. “Just tell her.”
“Yes,” Katherine says. “Please. Just tell me.”
Leo picks up the plastic bag with the ticket inside, holding it out to Teddy. He takes it carefully between two fingers, then hands it to his mom with a look of pride.
“Here,” he says, unable to contain a smile now, and Katherine frowns at it for a few seconds, uncomprehending, before a flicker of annoyance crosses her face.
“You know,” she says finally, “the lottery isn’t any better than gambling, right?”
“Mom,” Teddy says with a groan. “Relax. It’s not the same thing at
all.”
But Katherine sits forward, newly energized. “Of course it is,” she tells him. “It’s just a socially acceptable form of it. It’s a bunch of people who can’t really afford to be playing just throwing their money into a game where the odds are—”
“Alice is the one who gave it to me,” Teddy says, pointing in my direction, and Leo bursts out laughing.
“We all know Alice is a terrible influence,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him.
“It was for his birthday,” I explain to Katherine, walking over to join them in the living room. “It was just a joke. You know, for turning eighteen.” I almost add that Leo got him cigarettes but decide that’s beside the point right now.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Teddy says, stooping in front of the armchair so that he’s eye level with his mom. “This has nothing to do with Dad. This is about us. It’s about, well…” He lets out a sudden laugh. “The thing is…we won.”
She stares him. “Won…?”
“The lottery. We won the lottery.
“Like…”
“Like we hit the jackpot. The big one.”
Her eyes are wide now. “How big?”
“It’s 141.3 million dollars,” Leo says, glancing down to check this on his phone. “Would’ve been more if there hadn’t been two other winners. But that should still be about fifty-three million after taxes. Or 2.8 million a year if you go for the annuity. Though who wants an annuity? You can’t take over the world on an allowance, right?”
Nobody is paying attention to him. Katherine is still staring at Teddy, her face now a grayish color. She looks utterly gobsmacked, which is almost as weird a sight as anything else that’s happened today.
“You’re serious,” she says, but it isn’t a question.
He nods. “I am.”
“This isn’t a joke? Because I’m exhausted, and if this is one of your—”
“Mom,” he says, putting a hand over hers. “This isn’t a joke. I swear. We won the lottery. Alice picked the winning numbers. She won us millions.”
It’s strange to watch it happen, to see her face move from wariness to incredulity to shock, then finally slip into something I haven’t seen from her in a long time: joy.
“Millions?” she repeats, shaking her head, and Leo passes over his phone, where the numbers from the lottery website match the ones on the ticket in her hand. Katherine opens her mouth as if to say something more, then seems to change her mind; instead she stands up, moving straight past Teddy and over to me. She’s a few inches shorter than I am, but she grips my shoulders so that I have to bend a little, and there’s something steady in her eyes, something almost fierce in the way she’s looking at me.
“Alice,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
“It was nothing,” I say automatically, because this is the truth. It was five minutes in a convenience store. It was as easy as picking up a pack of gum or a tube of toothpaste. It was a gag gift, a token, an afterthought. It was just a birthday present, and a pretty lame one at that.
But still she folds me into a hug so tight it’s almost hard to breathe.
“It was everything,” she says.
When the intercom buzzes, Leo hurries over to answer the door.
“Password is ‘jackpot,’ ” he says into the speaker, and there’s a pause—filled by a crackle of static—before Aunt Sofia’s voice emerges.
“Leo?”
“Hi, Mom,” he says, punching the button. “Come on up.”
Teddy turns to Katherine, who is still looking kind of dazed. “We thought we might need a lawyer,” he explains. “So we asked Sofia to come over.”
“And Uncle Jake,” I add with a grin. “Just in case we needed an office-supply salesman. You never know.”
Katherine laughs. “Stranger things have happened today.”
While they climb the stairs, Leo and I stand waiting near the open door of the apartment. “No rush,” he shouts when we hear their footsteps. “Take your time.”
“Hey,” Uncle Jake calls back. “We’re not all eighteen here, okay?”
At the top he slumps against the banister in mock exhaustion, mopping his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “Okay, I’m here,” he says with a grin I still think of as my dad’s, even after all these years. The similarities between them are startling: the reddish hair, the round blue eyes, the same booming laugh. Uncle Jake was older by a few years, and it flattens me still on each of his birthdays, knowing my dad will never reach that same age.
“I’ve now climbed approximately six million stairs,” he says. “And I’m missing the Bulls game. And I had to drive three miles through ice and snow with the biggest scaredy-cat on the planet. So if you guys want to fill us in at any point, that would be fantastic.”
“I heard that,” Aunt Sofia says, finally making it up too. She walks straight over to Leo and me, pulling us both into a hug. I can almost feel the relief radiating off her. “You two could be a little more selective with your use of the word emergency.”
“I told you everything was okay,” Leo says, holding up his phone as proof, but Aunt Sofia only shakes her head. She’s wearing jeans and an oversized Northwestern sweatshirt, her long dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail so that she looks much younger than usual, her face still full of worry.
“Well, a bit more information would’ve been nice,” she says, but the sternness is melting away now that she’s clapped eyes on us. “It still would.”
“Sorry,” I begin, ready to explain, but then Teddy pokes his head out the door.
“Actually it’s my fault,” he says, smiling broadly at them. “Turns out I could use some legal advice.”
“It was only a matter of time,” Uncle Jake stage-whispers to me, and I laugh, because he’s not totally wrong. But suddenly I can’t wait for them to hear the real reason that they’re here, the incredible, impossible news.
Aunt Sofia is frowning at Teddy. “What happened?”
“Let’s talk inside,” he says, ushering us in and closing the door.
As soon as Katherine sees my aunt, she pulls her into a hug. Then she gives my uncle a quick kiss on the cheek and offers them a cup of coffee, her hands shaking. By the time we’re all settled in the living room, Teddy is practically bursting to tell them the story. The rest of us have arranged ourselves on the couch or pulled over chairs, but he’s still standing in front of the coffee table, ready to hold court.
“So what’s going on?” Aunt Sofia asks. “How can I help?”
Teddy rubs at his jaw, trying to look serious. “Well, like I said, a situation has come up, and I could really use some legal advice, and I know you’re a great lawyer—”
“An environmental lawyer,” she reminds him. “So unless you spotted a polar bear in need this morning, I might not be of much use.”
“I know,” Teddy says, nodding. “But I figured you could help us with all the legal jargon, and maybe you’d know someone at your firm who could—”
Aunt Sofia is starting to look anxious again. “What exactly happened?”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I promise we didn’t rob a bank or anything.”
Leo snorts. “Might as well have.”
“Seriously,” Uncle Jake says with a hint of impatience. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know if you saw the news about the big lottery drawing this morning,” Teddy says, beaming at them. “But, well…I won.”
Uncle Jake stares at him. “You won?”
“The lottery?” Aunt Sofia asks, dumbfounded.
I can’t help laughing, because this is now the third time we’ve had this conversation, and it’s gone exactly the same way each time.
“He won millions,” I say. “Like, millions and millions.” I pause. “And millions.”
“All because of Alice.” Teddy smiles at me, and the way he says my name—my real name—sends a jolt through me. “She picked the numbers.”
My uncle looks over at me wi
th wonder. “Well, nice going there, kid,” he says, then turns to wink at Katherine. “I taught her everything she knows.”
“Wow,” Aunt Sofia says, still absorbing this information. She stands abruptly, then crosses the room to hug him. “Teddy, that’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“We’re so happy for you,” Uncle Jake says, popping up as well. He gives Teddy one of those handshakes that turn into a shoulder bump that turn into a hug. “Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”
“And we’re here to help however we can,” Aunt Sofia says, looking at Katherine now. “Whatever you need. Lawyers, financial planners, anything. Just let us know.”
Katherine has been listening to all this with a thoughtful expression, but now she sits forward. “You’re eighteen now,” she says to Teddy, who grins at this; with all the excitement, his birthday party feels like a long time ago. “And that means the decisions are all yours to make. But I just hope—”
“Mom,” Teddy says, laughing. “This just happened. No lectures yet, okay?”
“I’m just saying that money comes and goes,” she continues, and it’s obvious she’s thinking about his dad. “I know you’ll want to have some fun with it, and you should. But I hope you’ll be responsible too.”
He nods impatiently. “I will.”
“And I think the first thing we should do,” she says, “is set aside some money for college.”
Teddy hesitates, and I sit up straighter, watching him carefully. He’s always dismissed the idea of going straight to college, and while I’ve been hoping he might change his mind, I also understand his reasoning. He’s spent so many years watching his mom try to get out from under his dad’s debts that the last thing he wants is to take out a loan. But as soon as Katherine says it, I realize she’s right: this is his chance.
“Mom,” Teddy says, shaking his head, “you know my plan is to—”
“I know,” Katherine says, her voice sharp. “Work for a year or two, then apply to community college. But I’m worried you’ll end up spending the rest of your life as an assistant manager—”