Bingo Summer, page 16
Anna and I had cooked up a contest to go along with the article, too, to get everyone in-volved, to take the focus off me. The bingo card printed underneath the article was an almost exact copy of the lottery ticket I’d scratched on my birthday last year. I’d drawn it from memory, to show Jennifer Li, who was a computer graphics genius, how it looked. She really rocked the design and made it into an advertisement for the contest. Anyone who wanted to play had to pick up the real bingo cards in the cafeteria during lunch period. One card cost a dollar, or you could buy six for five bucks. Every weekday for the next month, Mrs. Rowe would post two bingo numbers on the lunch menu board in the cafeteria. There would be prizes for winners, cool things like gift certificates, movie passes, and the grand prize at the end of the four weeks? Cubs tickets.
I stayed in the bathroom until I heard the swell of voices coming down the hall, people heading to their lockers, and then I came out. At the sink, the rush of cold water felt soothing on my hands. I patted my cheeks. The door squeaked open, and two girls walked in, talking and not paying me any attention. They each found a stall, talking the whole time. Just a normal morning in an ordinary day. Someday, I would have one of those.
Anna caught up to me in the hall after science.
“Nervous?” she asked again for the millionth time, hurrying a few steps ahead, so she could see my expression. “Slow down. What’s the hurry?”
“I just want to get this over with.” I dumped my books into my locker and grabbed my lunch bag. “I’m not looking forward to feeling like I’m in a fish bowl.”
“I think you’re worrying too much.”
I laughed. Maybe Anna was right. Maybe I was overreacting. No sooner had I thought that than kids poured out of the cafeteria doors after first period lunch, clutching copies of the Banner. I ducked my head and hurried past them into the cafeteria.
“Do you want to sit at a different table? In the corner maybe?” Anna stopped in the mid-dle of the room, but I tugged her along.
“No,” I whispered. “That’d be really obvious.” Our usual table was in the very middle, but we always sat at the end near the wall. I slid onto the bench and only then looked up. Across from me, Dink rested his elbows on the table, a copy of the newspaper hiding his face.
“Many dream of winning the lottery. For eighth-grader Summer Haas and her family, that fantasy turned into reality last June,” he read aloud. “Haas scratched an instant lottery ticket worth ten million dollars on her 13th birthday. For a family who had trouble making ends meet, the money changed their life dramatically.” Dink looked over the paper. “Wow, Haas. That was some birthday present.”
“If you need to read it aloud, could you at least turn the volume down from yell?” I said.
“Don’t be so hostile, Bingo.”
“You irritate me. And don’t call me that.”
Anna looked at me with pity. She scooted closer to Dink, so she could read the article. “Nice picture,” she said.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Did it work?” Anna said.
I grinned. “A little.”
“Why’d you hide this for so long?” Dink asked, folding up the paper and setting it aside. “That’s big news.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.” Stop lying, dork. “Well, actually I was kind of embarrassed,” I admitted.
Dink’s eyes narrowed. “What’s embarrassing about that? I think it’s cool.”
“Thanks.” I folded my hands to keep from fidgeting. His full attention made me nervous. Two tables over, Tyler and Suri sat next to each other with their backs to me. I pretended I didn’t see Tyler turn around and look at me. When they both got up and headed in my direction, I sighed. Tyler held a rolled up Banner. Good grapes, here it comes.
“Summer! Great article!” said Suri. “That is such an awesome story.”
Tyler, behind her, nodded like a bobblehead doll.
My face grew hot. “Thanks. It’s feels a little weird.”
Suri waved the thought aside. “Really? But it’s so cool! And the bingo contest? Totally fun concept!”
I smiled. Even if we didn’t have anything in common, I could still be nice to her.
“Yeah, Bingo,” Dink muttered under his breath. I shot him a look.
Anna noticed Mara and Kate staring at us at the same time I did. She leaned close to whisper. “Mara was in Mrs. Rowe’s room first thing this morning. I came in to bring the news-papers to the cafeteria and heard Mrs. Rowe talking to her.”
“What were they saying?”
“Mrs. Rowe was telling her that a real journalist doesn’t let personal problems affect her professional life.” Anna snickered. “For once, Mara didn’t have much to argue about.”
“That’s because she’s guilty.”
“I wonder what she’ll come up with next.”
I shrugged. Whatever it was, I could handle it.
CHAPTER 33
Coach Hardesty called off practice after school because of a last-minute family obliga-tion. So I rode the bus home, and after dumping my book bag at the door and kicking off my shoes, I flung myself on the couch to chill. Mom handed me an iced tea and curled up at the oth-er end.
“So fill me in. How’d it go today?” She sipped her tea, waiting.
I closed my eyes and pictured in my mind the cafeteria buzzing with the news. “It was a little embarrassing. And tiring.” I opened my eyes. “But kind of fun.”
“Did Mara say anything to you about your article being printed instead of hers?”
“Not a word.”
“She knows better,” Mom said.
Pfft. “I wouldn’t give her that much credit.”
Mom smiled. “That was nice of Anna to help you. She seems like a really fun girl.”
“That reminds me. We’re going to meet at the bakery again. We’re working on another article together.”
“What about this time?”
“Anna was asked to write something about a benefit dinner coming up to support the Arts Guild.”
Mom sipped her tea. “Hmm, sounds interesting,” she said with sarcasm.
“Actually, it is. Mr. Bain offered to be the target for a pie-throwing contest during the dinner. The five highest bidders get to throw a pie,” I said. “Anna wants me to interview Mr. Bain since I know him.”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “I might have to help the Arts Guild. How do I sign up for this pie-throwing contest?”
I laughed. “I’ll find out when I meet Anna.”
“Are you turning into a writer?”
I groaned and hooked my hands behind my head. “Anna has been bugging me about writing for the newspaper. It’s not really my thing, though.”
If the last few months had taught me anything, it was that everyone has their own gifts. I had found out the hard way that being a student council member, and hanging out with people who made me feel bad about myself weren’t the best choices for me. But I was thankful that writing was Anna’s “thing”. If Anna didn’t write for the newspaper, my story would never have been told. I couldn’t have shared it with just anyone, especially someone like Mara. But Anna had my back, and to a smaller degree, Dink, even though I didn’t know him very well. If it weren’t for Anna, the school would have read Mara’s version of my life earlier in the day, not my own.
Before dinner, I rode my bike into town. I peeked through the fogged window of the bakery, but I didn’t see Anna yet. Only Dink’s grandma, Muriel, stood behind the counter, bagging treats for a customer. Her other part-time helper, Ashley, wiped down tables. No Dink. So I pulled open the door that led upstairs to the apartment and slipped inside.
The peachy walls in the stairwell looked extra cheery. Warm pastry smells filled the space as I climbed the narrow steps that creaked like rusty hinges. I would just say “hi” and that’s it. Simple, right? Then why did my stomach flutter when I stood in front of the door at the top, staring at the peephole. What if he wasn’t home? Or worse, what if he had one eye to the door, wondering why I was standing there like a creeper? So I knocked.
Feet padded across the floor; the door opened. He wore a t-shirt and checkered lounge pants. His feet were bare. I made a weird, gulping sound, and coughed to cover it up.
“Summer?” The shock on his face was hilarious, except I was struggling with my own nerves, so I smiled and hoped it didn’t look crooked.
“Hi. Just thought I’d say, um, hi! While I wait for Anna. Downstairs.” Good grapes.
He leaned against the door, but then smacked himself in the forehead like he’d forgotten something. “Sorry,” he said, stepping aside. “You want to come in?”
“No, no. I should be downstairs in case she comes looking for me. But I brought you something.” I handed him a Kerry Wood rookie card encased in a thick plastic sleeve. “You can have it. If you want.”
He held the card with two hands. “This is amazing. Why are you giving this to me?”
“Like I said, I have two. I just thought you would like one.”
“Well, thanks. Now I definitely owe you a Cubs game.”
I said good-bye, leaving him in the open doorway, and headed downstairs. My hand slid down the railing, as I took my time so I wouldn’t tumble down the steps, and felt conscious of his eyes on my back. I thought about how he smiled at me when he said we should see a game together, as if he was seeing something for the first time, something familiar in a new light. It was a picture that wouldn’t leave my mind until I fell asleep that night.
CHAPTER 34
What could be more of a surprise than a $10 million dollar instant lottery ticket tucked inside a birthday card? It couldn’t be topped. Impossible, I thought, until Mom and J.C. led me blindfolded out of the house in the late morning a few weeks later. We had the week off for spring break. A cool breeze ruffled my open jacket, so I fumbled for the zipper to close it. Mom’s hand covered my head, helping me duck into the car before they whisked me off somewhere.
“Wherever you’re taking me, I’d better be back home by 1:20 for the first pitch,” I said. I hadn’t missed the opening day game since I started watching the Cubs as an eight-year-old. One of the few things I’d credit Frank with was turning me into a baseball fan.
“No worries, Sugar Pie,” Mom said beside me.
“She’s not appreciating this. I say we just take her back home,” J.C. whined, put out be-cause she wasn’t getting one hundred percent of the attention.
“How can I appreciate something when I don’t have a clue what I should be appreciat-ing?”
J.C. gave in with silent defeat.
Less than an hour later, the smell gave it away first: grill smoke from brats, hotdogs, burgers. Lots of them. Even the feel of the place was different. A thousand voices. Car engines. City noises. The air buzzed with energy, like a living thing.
“Now don’t go peeking yet. Not until we say it’s time,” Mom said. She steered me through a crowd. I ping-ponged off someone every once in a while.
“Or we’ll take you back home and never tell what the surprise was,” J.C. said.
So I kept quiet, but I was so excited my cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Almost there,” Mom said.
The air temperature warmed suddenly. Through the blindfold, I could tell the light changed, too. Yes, almost there.
Then I was really bumping into people.
“Sorry,” Mom said over and over again.
“She’s not a kidnap victim. It’s a surprise,” J.C. explained.
Mom pulled on my arm. “Okay, stop.” And before the words were out of her mouth, J.C.’s fingers were working the knot of the blindfold.
Walking up the cement steps for the first time ever and seeing Wrigley Field was nothing short of awesome. The ivy-covered walls, the grass field so green I had to squint, it was all set against a Cubbie blue sky.
“No way,” I breathed. What else could I say? The words stuck in my throat.
But that wasn’t the biggest surprise of all, not yet. They pulled me back down the stairs, J.C. tugging my hand, and then we climbed the concrete ramps up, up, up. And an attendant ap-peared out of nowhere who escorted us up the last ramp to a balcony with a railing on one side and a long line of white doors on the other. Down below, people filed into rows and rows of seats.
Mom watched my face as the attendant stopped in front of one of the doors and opened it with a flourish.
“SURPRISE!”
They swarmed me when I stepped into the room — no, a SKYBOX! — and for a few minutes, I couldn’t see them through my blurry eyes. But then I was in the middle of a big, talky, huggy group with Anna, Dink, the Burlingame’s, Mr. Bain (no Chloe), some of the girls from my team, and good grapes! — even Dana, Erica, and Lauren. J.C. plopped a felt, birthday cake-shaped hat on my head, tooted a party blower in my face, and then disappeared back into the crowd.
Mom was at my shoulder. “This is an early birthday celebration. You’ve always wanted a SkyBox party, right?” She kissed my cheek.
I could only manage to say “wow” under my breath fifty-million times. Dana pushed through the crowd while I stood still, numbly taking it all in.
“My mom brought us up here,” Dana said, clutching my hand. “I can’t believe this!”
“Neither can I,” I said, fanning my face. I felt flushed, even though cold air poured out of the room vents. “This is amazing! The best present ever!”
“I guess I’m taking my present back,” said Dink over my shoulder. “Personally, I thought what I got you would be the best present.”
“You can give it to me. I’ll appreciate it,” said Dana.
I stepped in between her and Dink, laughing. “No, don’t take it back. I’ll love it, whatev-er it is,” I said to Dink. A few months ago, I might have been jealous of Dana flirting with Dink. But not anymore. I knew who he liked, and it wasn’t Dana.
A monstrous buffet table stretched along one wall. We filled our plates and settled into our seats to watch the game through the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window. Mom kept glanc-ing at me. She seemed just has excited as I was. When Dink sat down next to me, she winked at me. I winked back.
Dink bumped my shoulder. “You’re like a million miles away.”
“Sorry. Just daydreaming.”
“About me?”
“Stop thinking you’re so great all the time.”
“I’m not?” He tried looking serious, but his mouth twitched.
I shook my head. “Seriously, you know what would be the ultimate present?”
“You mean besides what I got you?”
I fumbled for the necklace, a chain with a silver “S” and baseball charm dangling from it. “Yes, besides this.”
“What?”
“This team going all the way.”
He doubled over laughing, accidentally bumping his forehead on the seat in front of us. “You have to be kidding me? You do know what team you’re talking about, don’t you?”
“Some fan.” I scowled at him. “I’m serious. It could happen.”
He rubbed his forehead. “You’ve got as much chance of seeing that happen as you do winning the lottery.”
Soda sprayed from my nostrils. Anna patted me on the back while I coughed and sput-tered. Dink looked at me like I’d lost my head until he realized what he’d said. Then the three of us almost slid out of our seats, we laughed so hard.
“Considering she already won the lottery, I’d say there’s a good chance of seeing them in a World Series,” Anna said.
Dana leaned over Dink’s shoulder from the row behind us. “Don’t make her choke at her own party. What’d you say to her?”
“We’re talking about chance, I think,” Dink said.
I wiped the wetness from my face and thought about chance. Yes, everything came down to chance.
There’s a chance you could win a million dollars on a Bingo Birthday Bash lottery ticket.
Or ten million.
Or none.
There’s also a chance that when you move away from your best friend, you might never find another.
Or instead you meet two new ones.
Dink offered me his soda. “Take a drink. You’ll feel better.”
“He’s right for once,” mumbled Anna. A curl tumbled over her forehead, and she pushed it impatiently out of the way.
“I’m fine,” I said, but I took a sip anyway.
A muffled roar from outside the SkyBox, and the announcers’ excited voices from the television on the wall caught our attention. We watched a pinpoint of white sail over the left field bleachers for a home run.
Yes, it all comes down to chance. And anything is possible.
Literature Circle Questions
Why does Summer’s family move away from Stanton? Do you think this was a wise deci-sion? Why or why not?
Describe Summer’s experience during the first week in her new home. How is Dorrance dif-ferent than Stanton?
When Summer meets Dink and Anna, she dislikes them without getting to know them first. Have you ever formed an opinion of someone before you knew them? If your opinion even-tually changed, what was the cause of the change?
Is Maggie a good mother to Summer and J.C.? Why do you think this?
Even though Summer decides to run for class vice president, she is uncomfortable about her choice. Why does she feel like this? Have you ever been uncomfortable about a choice you made? Why did you make this choice?
Why doesn’t Summer want her step-father Frank to visit?
When Summer refuses to play the game in Chapter 21, she alienates herself from the group. Why does Summer do this? Do you think she made the right decision? Why?
Is Suri a real friend to Summer? Why or why not? What qualities should a real friend have?
