Spring 2008 High School Edition
It All Started with a Bad Day
Christy Standler
Fiction (9th-10th)
First Place
Success Academy
Teacher: Paula Boener
It was just an ordinary day. People always say that when they begin an extraordinary story. As if, what eventually led to the extraordinary experience would be diminished if anything else important occurred that day. Well, I am beginning an extraordinary story, but it wasn’t an ordinary day. It was a really bad day.
I woke up in a bad mood. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the heater in my dorm room was broken and it was mid December… a very cold mid December. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I stayed up late cramming for my anatomy term exam and barely pulled off four hours of sleep. Whatever it was, the second my feet hit the floor that morning I just knew that day would go down in history as a landmark for disappointment.
I left my dorm room around 6:30 that morning and walked through the cold rain to my anatomy class on the other side of campus. Every other student seemed to have had an umbrella, so of course I was the only one who walked into class soaking wet. I just sat down in a secluded area of the lecture room deciding to be a hermit for the rest of class.
“Jenny!” called my friend Anne. “Come sit by me,” she said with too much perkiness for so early in the morning. I knew that if I didn’t move to go sit by her she would eventually come sit by me, so why put off the inevitable? I stood up and walked ot any empty seat next to Anne and sat down.
“Hey,” I said in a low voice. I hoped she would just say “hey” back and we could both sit in silence until class started, but Anne doesn’t know what silence means.
“Did you fall in a pool or something this morning?” she asked. It always annoys me when she tries to be funny; it never really works. I guess I have to give her credit for trying to lighten the mood at least.
“Nope, I walked in the freezing rain all the way to class,” I smirked. “That’s how I got wet.”
“I have an extra poncho in my backpack,” Anne offered.
“Thanks, but I’m already wet,” I replied a little rudely. Anne just shrugged. It was so peculiar to me how she never got angry; she never cried; all she ever was was happy. I mean, no one is that happy all the time. It just didn’t seem normal to me.
I heard the door open and close and saw Mrs. Lewis enter the room. She always seemed to have a blank look on her face as if her students never were important enough to rack any emotion in her. At least Anne could be happy if she couldn’t be anything else.
“Clear the tables, and be sure to put away any study materials you may have out,” Mrs. Lewis ordered blankly. Her teacher’s aide, Josh, passed out the tests and the room grew quiet. It seemed like everyone waited until Josh handed them a test to breathe. Mrs. Lewis was notorious for flunking people if they talked during tests on the grounds that they were cheating, so people had reason to be a little wary.
I read the first question and confidently answered it. I did the same with the second, third, and the fourth question. Things were going well. I guess all my studying paid off, but by the fifth question I heard a voice from behind whisper something.
“What’s the medical name for your nasal cartilage?” asked the voice. I turned my head slightly and saw the person in the desk behind me. He leaned forward to wait for my answer.
“She taught us this by the end of the first week; it should be basic knowledge to you. Not my problem if it’s not,” I said maybe a little arrogantly. I started on the fifth question when I heard his whispering voice again.
“I transferred here from Florida State. I wasn’t here the first week,” he said.
“Well, Florida State must be the worst college in America if they didn’t teach you the name for the cartilage in your nose,” I whispered back.
“Hey, I know a lot of other stuff, so don’t act like I’m stupid,” he said quietly in an aggravated tone.
“Whatever,” I said as I turned back around towards the front of the class. I continued on with my test and inwardly laughed at that guy. I mean missing one question is better than getting a zero if he was caught cheating. Oh well, I did the right thing, I told myself.
Okay… I know what you’re thinking. I know I was really obnoxious and slightly full of myself, but if I keep telling you what happened, you have to promise not to judge me. Are we clear? Okay, back to the story…
About half way through the test I heard his lame voice again, “How old is the human embryo when it starts developing a spine?” he asked desperately.
“You should have studied,” I whispered under my breath without even looking back.
“I did study… but we’re not all born smart like you,” he sulked.
“I wasn’t born smart. You were just born lazy,” I mumbled. What was wrong with this kid? If Mrs. Lewis heard us talking we would both get zeros and maybe be suspended for cheating. He had to have known this, so why did he keep talking to me?
“I already have a C, and I can’t afford for my grade to fall anymore,” he reasoned.
“Again… that’s not my problem,” I answered in a whisper.
“It is if I keep talking to you and we get caught… just tell me please?” he whispered. I couldn’t be sure if the “just tell me part” was a question or an order. I guessed it didn’t really matter. I turned around and looked that loser straight in the eye.
“Nasal cartilage is one of the few things that doesn’t have a medical name, and a baby is only a few weeks old when it starts developing a spine, “I said, happy that all this would be over and I could get back to my test. I turned back around and saw Mrs. Lewis looking me square in the eyes. “Gee, Mrs. Lewis, I really like your earrings!”
That guy and I got suspended for three weeks, and we both got zeros. The dean lectured us for half an hour. We went our separate ways.
When I got back to my dorm room I just felt like sleeping the rest of my day away. It was only 9:30 in the morning; I still had a long day ahead of me. Maybe I would just close my eyes for a couple minutes…
Yea… I bet you guessed that I slept more than a few minutes. Actually, I didn’t wake up until four hours later when my phone rang. I really didn’t want to answer it. It felt like in the morning s when your alarm goes off and it takes you a while to realize that covering your head with a pillow won’t make the buzzing stop.
I finally answered the phone after much mental deliberation. “Hello?” I said drowsily.
“Jenny?” said my friend Anne. “You are such a jerk!”
“Um… that was random,” I said.
“I’m just joking,” she said cheerfully. “I just don’t understand why you cheated.”
“He wouldn’t have ever shut up till I gave him the answers to a couple questions,” I rationalized.
“Yea, so anyway,” she said. “Can you come with me to the campus bookstore?” Wow, that was a major subject change I thought. How self-centered could she be? Of course back then I wasn’t really one to talk, so I shouldn’t call her self-centered.
“You’re eighteen. I think you can go by yourself,” I retorted.
“I know. It’s just, I heard they have some awesome discounts on some pharmaceutical books, and I think I may buy a lot so I need someone to help me carry them,” she explained.
“Sure,” I said bitterly. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“Awesome!” said Anne before she hung up the phone.
“Oooooooooohhhh, this one is nice, but it’s a little more expensive than the others,” she noted. Anne flipped through the old medical book, unsure whether it was worth the extra five dollars.
“It’s not that big of a decision. The library has a lot of books. You don’t need to buy ten, Anne,” I said blankly.
“You’re right,” she said. “I have enough. Let’s just go.” I was kind of surprised by how little time she took shopping; she usually took forever to do every little thing. We went to the front of the store, and I noticed through the glass door that it had started raining again.
“Great!” I said with mock enthusiasm. Tomorrow has to be better, I thought. I mean, I can’t get suspended again for cheating tomorrow because I won’t be allowed in a classroom tomorrow. I kept thinking about my bad day that it took me quite a while to realize the sales man was staring at me. I finally realized when Anne nudged me. It was that guy! The one that got me suspended.
“Huh! Why didn’t they suspend you from your on-campus job? Seems only fair,” I said rudely. He looked down at the counter and sighed.
“I’m really sorry about that,” the guy said solemnly.
“Thanks!” I said sarcastically. “But your guilty apology won’t get me unsuspended.”
“Um… I have a class, so could you ring these up?” Anne asked cheerfully, as if it could detract from the awkward conversation she was forced to witness. That guy looked at Anne and smiled forcefully.
“Sure,” he said as he grabbed the first book and scanned it.
“So do you like working here?” Anne asked with the one emotion she knew how to express.
“It’s ok. The pay sucks, but not as bad as no pay,” said that guy. “Are you pre-med or something?” he asked.
“Yep,” answered Anne. “How did you guess?” she wondered. I rolled my eyes at her.
“You’re in his anatomy class, and you’re buying a ton of pharmaceutical text books,” I pointed out with a condescending tone.
“Not everyone in that class is pre-med,” she argued politely. “You’re not.” I squinted my eyes and glared at her smiling face.
“A lot of people haven’t chosen a major yet,” I answered. Okay, so maybe I overreact a bit, but I was having a bad day, so how about a little understanding?
“$37.72” said that guy. “It’s hard to believe you got seven books for that price. Then again, they are pretty torn up. It would have been a while before anyone bought them.” Anne paid that guy then looked at me.
“Let’s go,” she said. I picked up three of the books and turned towards the door.
“Here,” said that guy. I set the books back down on the counter and looked at him.
“What?” I asked simply. “Do you want me to tell you about nasal cartilage again?” He handed me one of those scratch and win things from under the counter.
“My mother used to buy those. She never won,” I said.
“Just take it,” he insisted. I put the stupid thing in my pocket and picked back up the books and left.
“Just set them at the door,” said Anne. So I set the books on the doorway to her dorm.
“Why do you want them here?” I asked.
“My roommate has the flu. She is major contagious,” said Anne. “I’m staying at Motel 6,” she said, probably hoping I would ask her if she wanted to stay in my dorm, seeing as how I didn’t have a roommate.
“Well… bye,” I said.
On the walk home, I fell down twice and the rain turned into hail. When I finally got back to my dorm building, I was cold and aggravated to the point that I actually kicked a wall in my dorm, and it hurt. So I put some ice on it and practically collapsed on my sofa, furious that it was only noon and I still had a long day ahead. Then I go to thinking, I no longer have any classes for a while, so I didn’t really have anything to do. I turned on the television and stared mindlessly at it for about twenty minutes until I remembered the scratch and win in my pocket. I took it out and looked at it.
“Case prize to the winner with the numbers 7, 31, 19, and 3,” I read aloud. What the heck, I thought as I scratched off the first square. Underneath was a seven, the first number in the winning combination. I scratched off the second square that revealed the number 31. They probably make the two numbers match up on purpose so people think they almost have it and buy more, I thought skeptically. I scratched off the second square, and guess what I saw? Okay, you guys probably see where this is going. Yes, I got all four numbers. Of course, I was wondering if the “cash prize” was really only a couple bucks. Honestly, things would have been a lot simpler if that was true.
I turned the card around and read the back. It had a PO Box address that I was supposed to send the winning card to if I won, along with contacting information: name, address, day phone number, night phone number, email.
I thought for a minute about if writing down that information then going all the way to a post office was worth a couple dollars. Since I didn’t have a class to go to (yes, at the time I was still bitter about being suspended, you would be too) I decided I would do it.
So I scribbled down my information on a loose leaf sheet of paper, put it in a stamped envelope, and hobbled out, thanks to my hurt foot from my recent wall kicking incident.
The next part was easy. All I did was put it in the mail box at the post office, and I assumed that a couple months later I would get a check for several dollars in the mail. I didn’t even think about what I would do with the money, especially if it was more than I would ever earn in my life.
Since I didn’t have any classes to go to, I just watched TV all day. I did the same the next day, and the next. Five days from when I mailed my scratch and win card there was a knock at my door. I answered at after about three minutes of continuous knocking, and it was clear the person at my door had no intention of leaving.
So I answered it.
“How does it feel to win big like this?” asked a man’s voice. I couldn’t see his face because there was a bright light coming from what looked like a camera.
“This is dorm room 105. I think there might be a mistake,” I clarified.
“No mistake ma’am!” said the chipper voice.
“No offence, but I’m busy,” I lied as I slammed the door. “Wing big?” I said back to myself, wondering what he could have meant. Huh? “What could they…” and then I got it.
I opened the door and smiled. This time my eyes adjusted, and I could see a really big camera man, that guy from the news, and quite a few other students gathered around.
“Um…” I tried to smile and look pretty at the camera, cut all I could think was, “Are they really filming me in my pajamas?” Yes… I was having a bad week. So what if I still had on my pajamas… at 11 in the morning. “Is this camera like… live?” I asked.
“Yes it is,” said the man.
“Does this have anything to do with a scratch and win card?” I asked in my most polite tone.
“It has everything to do with a scratch and win card,” he said.
“How much did I win?” I asked, now sure I’d won at least a couple thousand.
“9.3 million dollars,” said the man.
“No seriously…” I said. “How much?”
“9.3 million dollars” he repeated. I rolled my eyes and glared at the man.
“Is this candid camera?” I questioned.
I’m sure you guessed I wasn’t on candid camera. It was actually the local news. They had to tell me five more times that I had won 9.3 million before I believed them. I was supposed to go to their news office at three the next afternoon to pick up the check. What was I supposed to do until then? I’ll tell you what I did… nothing. I just sat there, either counting down the hours or sleeping. When three o’clock came, I took a cab to the news studio, eager to get my money and get out of there.
“Jenny!” said the same man that appeared at my doorway the day before. “Follow me to the news set.” The man still had on a suit as he did the day before, and I wondered to myself if it was the same suit. I followed him out of the waiting room and into the halls. “They didn’t keep you waiting long did they?” he asked sincerely.
“Nope, listen, I have to go meet with my dean about something important, so can I just get the money and go?” I asked. He kept walking and didn’t look back when he answered.
“Now why would you want to do that when you can be on TV?” he asked.
“I already was on TV when you came by my dorm,” I answered.
“We can’t air that until we have a taped piece of you accepting the money,” said the anchorman.
“Why don’t you just not air it then?” I suggested. He stopped walking and looked back at me. “That’s not an option,” he said. I rolled my eyes.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because the owners of the scratch and win also own this studio. If you want your money this is what you have to do,” he told me quite stubbornly.
“Good afternoon, I’m Jack Jones here in the studio. There has recently been a local scratch an win winner, and she is in the studio with us now. Jenny… tell us how you came to win 9.3 million dollars,” he said with an annoyingly upbeat tone.
“Um….” I said, thinking what to say. The newsroom was really small; it couldn’t have been bigger than 12 square feet. I couldn’t believe how shabby it looked in person compared to how it looked on TV. Also the chair behind the big anchor desk was actually a very uncomfortable wooden stool. I shifted in my seat as all the camera men and everyone else was looking at me, waiting to hear my answer.
“I scratched off the thing and saw the winning numbers, so I mailed the card,” I said simply. That reporter guy looked at me, waiting for a more detailed explanation. “I got it at my campus book store,” I finished. Apparently, it wasn’t a good enough finish to my story because they kept on looking at me as if I should say more. “I was with my friend Anne. She was buying books.” That STILL wasn’t enough by their expressions, but oh well… I had nothing else to say. After a long pause, Jack finally ended that awkward silence they all expected me to fill.
“What are you going to do with all your winnings?” he said as he yearned and smiled at the camera. “9.3 million dollars is a lot of money for a college student.”
“I guess spend it. I mean of course I want to save like maybe 1/10 of it, but he rest I think I just want to blow on stuff, like maybe a car, because I hate walking around campus. Actually, tow cars would be nice because I want to buy a big house with way too many rooms that I’ll never use. Ohhh, and I’ve always wanted to have a Sprite water fountain. Maybe I’ll spend a little on building one of those,” I smiled, but no one got the joke.
Did everyone think I was that irresponsible? Judging by their looks, they did. I forced out a laugh and then tried to explain. “I’m joking of course. That’s a good question… um… I don’t know what I’m going to do with the money yet. The first thing I want to do is put it in the bank so it is all safe and cozy. I mean, if I carried around that check and then got mugged that would…” I could tell by the anchor’s expression that he didn’t like what I was saying so I stopped talking. I knew I had to think of something not stupid to say, so I thought of what he might want me to say. “I’m thinking about investing it,” I said. Apparently, that was the right answer because Jack stopped scowling at me and smiled.
“What a wise decision,” he complimented. This guy seemed so phony to me. Everything from his hair plugs to his cheap suit was supposed to make people think he was something he wasn’t.
“Thanks,” I said. Jack nodded to one of the camera men who then whispered into a walky-talky, and seconds later, a man with a huge check came out. I mean, a huge check! Like the kind they give the winners of game shows. On that check was my name, followed by the numbers nine and three and a whole bunch of zeros. I looked to the teleprompter and saw the camera was then focused on Jack’s face.
“All of us here wish Jenny the best of luck. Take a look at the clip of her when she discovered she was a millionaire,” he said to the camera. Then the flashing light on the camera turned off and the man holding the big check handed me a normal sized check.
“5.8 million?” I exclaimed. “What happened to my other 3.5 million?”
“Taxes pumpkin,” Jack said before he walked out of the room. I scowled at the man with the big check with my right number of million on it.
You’re probably wondering why I was sulking about my 5.8 million dollars, and I’m kind of wondering too. I guess I felt like I was entitled to 9.3 million for some reason. Anyway, I immediately went to a bank to see about having my money deposited.
“Let me see if I understand this… you currently have $37 dollars in your account. At any period of time you have never had more than a hundred dollars, but now you want to deposit 5.9 million?” said Mr. Anderson, the banker.
“I won the lottery, well not the lottery, the scratch and win. It was originally 9.3 million, but the man took the rest. Is it even legal for the government to do that?” I questioned.
“It is the law for the government to do that,” he answered. “If you don’t mind me asking, why have you previously had so little money in your account?” he asked.
“Well, my parents are paying for about half of my tuition and student loans cover the rest. I eat from the meal plan at the cafeteria, so I don’t need to like buy food. I still have all my clothes from last year, and my parents cover the dorm fee. Actually, all I do buy is like shampoo, and also…” the banker interrupted me.
“I wasn’t asking for a detailed explanation of everything you buy. Let’s see about depositing this now,” Mr. Anderson suggested casually.
It was official; I was a millionaire. At only eighteen I had more money than probably every other student on campus. Of course, I was still suspended. I scheduled a meeting with the dean to discuss that, but I called and canceled an hour before the meeting. I shouldn’t have given that guy the answers, so I deserved to be suspended. Anyway, he was the reason I was a millionaire, so I decided to forgive him and let the whole thing go.
After the bank, and canceling my meeting, I went to the student aid building on campus and paid off all of my loans. I put a check in the mail, reimbursing my parents for their help paying for my year thus far, and I got a new cell phone. Okay, I know the paying off my debts things were noble, but I needed a new cell phone. The one I had then was three years old; you would have a gotten a new phone too.
I got home around eight PM and looked at my answering machine: thirteen new messages. Then I remembered, I forgot to tell anyone about my big win. “Oh snap!” I said to myself. I sat on my tiny, ugly dorm room couch and considered buying a new one later. Then I began to listen to my messages.
“Hey, it’s me! Rosie, from third grade. Remember? Anyway, I was just in a major car accident and am in a coma. Can you wire me a couple thousand dollars to pay medical bills?” said the unfamiliar voice. At the time, I thought she probably had a wrong number, so I delete it and listened to the next message.
“Wow, you are so lucky to have won big like that!” said the voice. “I wish I would have won. My, uh… grand… cousin just died and I don’t have any money for the funeral. If only I had some-” I deleted the message before listening to the rest. The next nine messages were the same thing, someone I’ve never heard of wanted money. How did they all get my number? Then I listened to the twelfth message.
“Jenny? It’s your mother. I saw on the television that you won all that money! Why didn’t you tell us? We would have come over to the TV news place with you if you wanted. I am just so happy for you! Also, why didn’t you tell us you died your hair blonde?” Then there was a long, dramatic pause. “Your stepfather and I are having a problem with our mortgage; I don’t know how we will pay it. Goodbye dear.”
First of all, I didn’t die my hair blonde. I dyed it brown all through high school then stopped dying it in college. Second of all, my mom and stepdad live in the same house they have been living in for ten years. They don’t have a mortgage. Not only did my own mother no notice all through high school I had dyed hair, but she wanted money just like everyone else! What am I, a bank account to everyone? I deleted the last message because I didn’t really want to hear someone else asking for money.
It was really weird. After that day, people knew who I was, and it seemed like they were always having a financial crisis. I never gave any of them any money, except for the people I actually knew. I gave away quite a lot of money, too much money. My parents paid off their “mortgage.” Anne got out of the hotel six she was staying in and into a Hilton hotel, and my high school guidance counselor got a new car… and I had a cell phone. I hated how everyone else was taking advantage of me, and I hated even more how I kept giving in. I couldn’t keep this money. It wouldn’t be right for anyone. I mean, by giving handouts to people it wasn’t actually helping them. No one that I gave money to actually needed it. That’s what made me the maddest. This had to stop. It just had to.
“Mr. Anderson, thank you so much for helping me,” I said to the banker.
“I’m not an accountant. I don’t know what much help I can be, though I can give you some advice, but first I just have one question,” he explained.
“What question?” I asked. Mr. Anderson leaned back in his chair and looked at me curiously.
“Just out of curiosity, how did you spend a hundred thousand dollars in three weeks?” he asked politely.
“I just bought a cell phone. All the rest of my friends and family and other people I used to know took… I mean, I gave it to them, but they always had some sob story to explain their need for money,” I answered. “I don’t want to waste all my money. I want to do something with it. I mean, maybe I could keep just enough to get through school without taking out loans… and maybe buy a new sofa… but I can’t walk around with a checkbook for an account with that much money,” I explained. “I also know that if I just donate it, the money would just be gone after. So maybe I could invest it in something and use it to do something important.”
“I’m a banker, not an investment agent, a stock broker, or as you said before an accountant. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” he told me. “But I can get you in contact with people who can.”
Five months later it was all finalized. I invested all of my money (except enough to finish college with) in the stock market and used 100% of the profits to fund a women and children’s shelter. I still get profits from those stocks, but I don’t take any of it because it’s not really my money to spend.
Everything pretty much went back to normal; it was like everyone forgot I once was presented that huge check. After my suspension was over, I went back to school and finally chose a major, financial investment, and I got a new sofa for my dorm room.
I went back to that bookstore, but that guy didn’t work there. I asked the new lady who worked there about the last guy that had her job, and she said he went back to Florida State a little less than six months ago. I was a little sad that he wasn’t there anymore, also that he left right before I found out all the money I had won.
Just for old times I asked to buy a touch and scratch card, but she said they weren’t sold there. That guy must have given me the card that he bought for himself. If he had known it was the winning numbers would he have still given it to me? He was the reason I was once a millionaire, yet I forgot to ask the lady what his name was. I was too busy wondering who he was. I told you my story, but I will never know his; it is funny how the people who change your life the most probably never even know.
So what’s the moral to this story? I guess the moral is that life is unexpected, and that you can’t waste away its benefits.
| English Department | College of Humanities & Social Sciences |