by D. S. Murphy
He pulled over outside my house, finally turning to look at me. The look of admiration in his eyes surprised me. I forgot how to breathe. My lungs felt like they were about to burst. I struggled to meet his eyes. “You broke up with her… because of me.”
He shook his head. “There were a million reasons why,” he said. “You’re just one of those reasons. I just, feel so isolated lately. You’re the only one who can really understand me, what I’m going through. To go with anyone else, I feel like I’d just be pretending to be who I was before, before all this. Before you.”
I took a deep breath and held it, waiting for him to continue.
“I know going to a dance might seem stupid, with everything going on. On the other hand, if the world is falling apart, don’t we owe it to ourselves to make the best of the time we have left? The thought of picking you up in a limo, buying you flowers, dancing with you. It makes me happy. It’s one of the only things that does. When I’m not thinking about you, I’m thinking about my father and what’s going on at Zamonta. I’d just like one night where we can pretend to be normal.”
“Wait, what exactly are you asking?” I said, thinking I must be confused somehow.
The car stopped and I looked up to see my house. I put my hand on the door handle, but made no move to leave. My heart was pounding as I searched Brett’s face for answers.
“Winter formal,” he said, a smile creeping up on his face. “Will you go with me?”
24
I was surprised to find Tamara’s car in the driveway after Brett dropped me off. It was only Friday; she was home earlier than usual. I heard voices in the kitchen when I stepped inside.
“What’s the big deal?” Tamara asked.
“It’s a gateway drug,” my dad said.
“That’s Reagan propaganda. Weed isn’t nearly as bad for you as alcohol, and it’s legal in some states. Plus it’s way better for you than all the prescription opiates that’s caused an epidemic of addiction. Did you know that? Besides, I thought the drug test came up negative.”
“As long as she lives under this roof, there will be no smoking, of any kind. I will not have drugs in this house!”
“Um, hello?” I called. Tamara was unloading groceries from brown shopping bags, and Dad was nursing a cup of coffee. The air was heavy after my interruption, but I didn’t care. Tamara knew what was really going on. I was actually glad she came back early this weekend, I’d have more time to fill her in and give her the winning lottery tickets. People were starting to notice her blog, but it wasn’t enough. We needed something they couldn’t ignore. I started to help unload the groceries, and Dad excused himself and went upstairs.
When we were alone, Tamara smiled at me and pulled me into a hug. I looked at her strangely.
“What,” she laughed. “Can’t I hug my sister?”
“It’s just a little weird, that’s all. What are you doing here?”
“Dad called. Jesus Alicia, what were you thinking? He’s worried sick about you.”
“I know,” I said. “I feel terrible. But trust me, it was important.”
“You went to the future again?” she whispered.
“Yes.” I nodded, and pulled out my list of notes. Her eyes lit up when she saw them, but I pulled the paper away when she grabbed for them.
“Wait,” I said. “There’s something else.” I pulled out the two lottery tickets and handed them to her.
“Lotto tickets?” she breathed.
“Winning lotto tickets,” I corrected. “The drawing was today. Winning once would already be a local news story. Winning twice, from two tickets bought in the same location, should raise more eyebrows. But it’s still not enough.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“In the future, we already had enough money to buy up the property in Defiance, to get things ready. But you still couldn’t get anyone to take you seriously, not until it was too late. So, first you call and claim both tickets. They’ll ask you if you want to get paid in long-term intervals. You don’t. Take as much as you can, as fast as you can. You’re going to give some to my friend Tracy. At least half I think. His dad is a lawyer and can help us. And I’m going to need some in a private account that I can access.”
Tamara whipped out her phone and pulled up a screen. “Prizes have to be claimed at the state Powerball office, it’s in St. Louis. It’s open till 8pm, I’ll go right after dinner.”
I frowned at her and she laughed.
“Surely it can wait a few hours? It’s not like the world is ending today… is it?” her eyes suddenly widened at my frozen expression. “Shit, how bad is it?”
“It’s bad,” I said. “It will be. The things I’ve seen. You can’t even imagine.”
I shuddered, and Tamara grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
“It’ll be okay, Alicia.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. What are we going to tell Dad? About the money?”
“Let me worry about it,” she said. “I’ll just tell him I’m internet-famous and getting donations. You know how he is with tech,” she smirked. “Also, in case you haven’t figured it out, he’s staging an intervention of sorts. So try and be contrite this evening.”
Dinner was more fun than I expected. Tamara kept the conversation flowing, with Dad butting in to make dumb jokes and comments. At one point I actually snorted into my glass and blew a milk bubble out of my nose. It was the most fun we’d had together in years. And even though I knew it was mostly for show—Dad and Tamara trying to keep it light and show me how much I had to live for, or something—it was still a welcome distraction. It wasn’t until Dad brought out the desert, apple pie with vanilla icecream, that the mood turned somber again. I could tell he wanted to say something. Finally he pulled a folded envelope out of his pocket and put it on the table. My eyes widened when I saw the Zamonta logo on the front.
Tamara snatched at the envelope and opened it.
“What is this?” she asked, her fingers shaking.
“The truth,” Dad said. “You’re both old enough to know. I’m sorry I’ve been keeping it from you. When you were both in school, your mom started looking for a job. Income was tight and she wanted to help out. She found an ad in the paper for a research project. Good money, only a couple hours a day.”
“Zamonta?” I guessed. Dad nodded. His eyes were misting up, but he clenched his fist and continued.
“Then one day she didn’t come home. I got a visit from their lawyers. They offered a settlement check for $25,000 and an NDA agreement. I signed it but never cashed the check.”
Tamara pulled it out of the envelope along with the signed document and handed them to me. Future Tamara had been right—the name on the check was Kyle Peters. Tamara looked visibly shaken. I wondered how much of this she already knew, or how much she was learning for the first time.
“I thought about donating it, but that seemed wasteful. I thought about putting it towards your college tuition. The truth is, I’ve mostly been avoiding it. It’s too painful. I can’t help feeling like I signed your mother’s life away, and I still don’t even know what really happened. They said it was a heart attack, but they wouldn’t let me see her. They wouldn’t even let me say goodbye,” Dad choked back a sob and Tamara jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. I joined awkwardly, patting his shoulder. Seeing my dad cry was the worst thing ever.
We helped clear the table, then Tamara excused herself, saying she needed to run an errand. She winked at me on her way out. I tried to do homework in my room but I was too excited to concentrate. Finally, hours later, I saw the flash of headlights in the driveway and ran downstairs. Tamara was wearing a stunned expression, and I thought something was wrong at first.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
She sat on the couch, staring at the TV. Then she pulled some documents out of her bag and passed them towards me. She muttered something, but I couldn’t make it out.
“What?” I asked.
“Fifty-two mi
llion dollars,” she said, looking at me this time. “It would have been more if we waited. That’s all they would give me on short notice. Ten million a month for five months. At first they thought it was a fake ticket or something. You were right, one person winning both tickets, it’s more than unusual. It’s impossible.”
“But we did it anyway,” I grinned.
“You did it,” she said, looking up at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
“You knew. You knew the exact numbers. Which means… everything you’ve been saying, it’s all true. The mods. Zamonta. How long do we have?”
“May 14th,” I said, sitting down next to her.
“I won’t even graduate college,” she sighed.
“You can still make a difference,” I said. “Dad gave me an idea earlier, remember what he said, he was thinking about donating the check? I think you should donate some money to environmental organizations. Get them on your side early. Get them to take you seriously. Plus it’s a better story. Winning the lottery twice is impressive, but immediately making huge donations to save the planet, you’ll come off as some kind of savior. Right now, we need attention more than money. The money, building Defiance, that was always the fall back plan. The main focus needs to be actually stopping Zamonta. Whatever they’re researching is going to go wrong in a few months and have irreversible consequences. We need to shut it down. You need to shift public opinion and get everyone on your side, and you need to do it fast.”
Tamara nodded and signed into her online banking account. We both stared at all the zeroes for a few moments.
“I can’t even believe this is real,” she said. “Who should I give it to?”
“It’s up to you. Choose a few organizations with credibility and political clout. Give them a million each. Like I said, the money doesn’t matter. What we want is attention. Ideally, someone will call and want to interview you. Hold out for something national. Then take the new list of predictions and make them live on camera, and you also mention Zamonta. When your predictions start coming true, people will rememer the interview. That’s not something you could fake.”
She nodded, and made herself a cup of coffee. I waited until I heard her fingers clicking away at her laptop. I yawned but she didn’t even notice I was there anymore, and it had been a long day. I dragged my feet upstairs and climbed into bed.
***
The doorbell jolted me awake the next morning. I jumped up, my heart pounding, thinking it was Chrys or Brett picking me up for school. Then I remembered it was Saturday. I checked my alarm clock, it was only 7am. What kind of asshole rings the doorbell that early on a weekend?
I peaked out my window and was momentarily blinded by the flash of cameras. When my vision cleared, I saw the news trucks. The microphones. Half a dozen camera crews were standing in our driveway. I ran downstairs and found Tamara, passed out on the couch with a pen still in her hand from writing notes. Her laptop was sitting innocently on the table.
I shook her awake. She saw the panic in my eyes and grabbed my arm.
“What is it?” she asked, a flash of terror on her face.
“Reporters. Cameras. They’re all over. What did you do?”
Tamara’s smile lit up the living room.
“Relax, this was the plan, right? I donated six million, to the largest environmental protection agencies. Then I updated my blog, announcing my win and the contributions. Then I sent out a press release.”
“I just, I can’t believe it’s happening so fast.”
“Um, you told me we needed to hurry. This was your idea, remember?”
She got up and brushed herself off, then went into the bathroom to splash water on her face and fix her hair.
“How do I look?” she asked, spinning around like a fashion model. She looked the same as she always did; casual, urban-hippy. Baggy clothes made of natural fibers and organic dyes. Unkempt hair and the distracted look of an overworked grad student. I was surprised she had the confidence to go out and face the cameras in the clothes she’d slept in, but it would probably play in her favor. She wasn’t trying to be anybody else. She wasn’t dressing to impress. With my mother’s dark eyes and delicate features, she had a natural beauty that I’d never really seen before.
“Perfect,” I said. “What are you going to say?”
“Anything that will get them to put me on the news,” she said. I shrank into the background as she put her hand on the door and swung it open. She spent ten minutes answering questions, as reporters scribbled down her every word. How does it feel to be a millionaire? Why did you give so much money away?
“What are you going to do now?”
“What I’ve always done,” she smiled a disarming smile, her eyes bright. “Wake up every day and try to save the planet, in any way I can.”
Once the reporters got their soundbite, most of them left to cover other news. A few stuck around to ask follow-up questions. The cameras were still rolling when Dad came downstairs in his bathroom, rubbing his eyes groggily. I grabbed his arm and shepherded him into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Tamara has some school thing,” I lied. “Something she wrote on her blog is getting a lot of play, there’s been press this morning wanting to talk with her about it.”
“To Tamara?” Dad said, looking both proud and skeptical at the same time.
Just then my phone buzzed. It was Chrys.
“Hello?”
“Dude, I just saw Tamara on TV. Is it crazy over there?”
“Not as crazy now.”
“Are you in serious trouble? Cody and Brett want to meet up later.”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “And it kind of feels like I should be here right now. I’ll let you know in a few hours.”
I didn’t have anything else to do, so I plugged in the waffle machine and mixed up some batter. Then I put out the syrup, peanut butter, applesauce, cream and blueberries, the way mom used to. I fixed Dad a plate and we sat together at the table, him with a newspaper, me trying to get into a fantasy novel. Tamara came in and grabbed a waffle, scarfing it down in between phone calls—the ringing had been near constant for the last two hours. Tamara answered each call, fielding questions efficiently and then getting off the line as quickly as possible.
Finally she left the phone off the hook and came in with a huge grin.
“Glad to see you’re still with us,” Dad said. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Something I wrote on my blog hit a nerve.”
“Well, at least it seems to be dying down.”
“Actually…” Tamara looked at me and grinned. “I just got booked on the CST 8pm News. National TV. Live. We’re doing the interview in St. Louis.”
My eyes widened and I jumped up and hugged her.
“That’s amazing,” I said. “Want me to go with you?”
“Maybe you and Dad should watch from here. I can text if I have any last minute questions.”
I nodded. I’d already given Tamara the list of predictions. All she had to do was mention a few of them on the show. When they came true, people would believe anything she said about the future. Tamara went to get ready and I texted Chrys. Tamara is on news tonight. It’s happening. Come over and watch with us.
An hour after Tamara left I opened the door and found Chrys with Cody and Brett. Then my eyes widened, as I saw a white speck land on Brett’s cheek.
“It’s snowing,” I said, watching the slow descent of ice crystals in the yard.
“Yeah, and it’s cold out here, so let us in,” Cody said. Brett smirked and looked up at me through his dark lashes.
“Hope it was okay to bring the gang,” Chrys said.
“I don’t know, I didn’t ask. Hey Dad?” I called upstairs. Dad looked surprised but didn’t comment. And it’s not like he’d officially grounded me or anything.
“They came to watch Tamara on the news with us. Since, you know, I thought you might not want me goin
g out after dark.”
“Um, yeah, I guess that’s fine, as long as all your parents know where you are. I’ll make some popcorn.” I followed him into the kitchen and helped him prepare some snacks and drinks. Through the kitchen window I could see the snow getting heavier and starting to stick. When I returned to the living room, the others were putting their jackets back on.
“Leaving so soon?” I asked.
“There’s like an inch of snow out there,” Chrys said. “It would be a shame to waste it.”
“We’re going to make you a snowman,” Brett said. “To keep an eye on you.”
“A carrot and a couple pieces of coal would be nice,” Cody said. I went back into the house and collected some things for the snowman. By the time I came outside, they’d already rolled three balls together and were stacking them up. The combined height of the project barely made it to my waist.
“That’s my protector?” I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the porch.
“He may look scrawny,” Cody said, “But he knows Karate.”
“And he’s a weapons expert. Can’t you tell? Look at those muscles,” Chrys added. She took the carrot and coal from me and made a face—looking away from the street and up towards my window.
“That’s a little creepier than I intended,” she said. “He looks like a stalker.” She screamed suddenly, as Cody tucked a handful of snow under her jacket at the base of her neck. She chased him around the yard and tackled him. Then she straddled his waist and stuffed snow in his face.
“I surrender,” he yelled through a mouthful of snow.
I laughed and looked at Brett. He smiled and winked at me, like we were sharing a secret. My heart sung in response. Crys caught the exchange and jumped up. She walked over to us and crossed her arms.
“What’s this I see?”
Brett and I glanced at each other with guilty expressions.
“Nothing,” I smiled sweetly, grabbing her arm.