chapter 2
By the time I reached the last row, I had already stopped hoping.
Prize amount: $20.
Something inside me went still.
That meant that until next semester—until my mother decided to throw me another book of tickets like scraps to a stray dog—I had exactly twenty dollars left to survive on.
Clutching the ticket, I walked out of the dorm to redeem it at the lottery counter near the campus gate.
I had barely stepped out of the building when I heard a stern voice behind me.
“Zoe Parker.”
I turned and saw my academic advisor, Professor Bennett.
The second he noticed the scratch-off ticket in my hand, the disappointment on his face deepened.
“Someone told me, and I didn’t want to believe it,” he said. “You got into this university with one of the top scores in the state. How did you end up addicted to this kind of shortcut nonsense? Do you have any idea what your grades look like now? They’re practically in free fall. I’m extremely disappointed in you.”
He went on for several minutes under the hot afternoon sun.
“This conversation is a warning. If you keep going like this, I’ll have no choice but to recommend disciplinary action. If things get worse, you could even be dismissed.”
By then, the little energy from that piece of cake had almost run out. My body started swaying.
“Zoe?” His expression shifted instantly from anger to alarm. “Are you alright?”
When he saw how pale I was and how my hands shook uncontrollably, he sighed.
“Come with me. I’m taking you to the cafeteria. And from now on, stop wasting your meal money on lottery tickets. There is no such thing as food falling from the sky.”
I didn’t refuse.
At that point, anyone willing to give me a meal was my savior. My lifeline. Pride meant nothing when survival was at stake.
The truth was, the whole semester, I hadn’t been able to afford actual cafeteria meals. I never stood in line at the hot-food counters. I bought plain bread and drank free hot water. I didn’t have the strength to stay awake in class. I couldn’t focus. The words on the board swam before my eyes like insects.
My grades had collapsed.
The pride I’d once had in myself had shattered long ago.
After I wolfed down a full meal, I felt human again. My legs didn’t shake as much. My mind cleared.
I thanked Professor Bennett and turned to leave.
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
I held up the wrinkled ticket in my hand. “To redeem it. Otherwise I won’t have anything to eat.”
“Zoe!” he snapped, furious. “Did you already forget everything I just said? Or have you made up your mind to fight me until you’re thrown out of school? I shouldn’t have bought you that meal. I should’ve let you starve a little longer so you’d understand how serious this is. Give me the ticket. Cut your losses now.”
He held out his hand, his tone brooking no argument.
I quickly hid the ticket behind my back.
“Professor Bennett, I really can’t. I have my reasons.”
He slammed a hand against the table.
“You are beyond saving. I’m telling you right now—if you don’t hand it over, I’ll report you as soon as I get back. You’ll be publicly reprimanded and formally disciplined.”
I lowered my head. My nails dug into my palm.
After a long internal struggle, I bowed to him.
“I’m sorry. I really can’t give it to you.”
Then I turned and ran, ignoring him calling after me, and sprinted all the way to the redemption booth.
The middle-aged woman behind the counter took the ticket from me, rolled her eyes, and muttered, “Kids these days. Wasting their parents’ hard-earned money like this.”
Bitterness flooded my chest.
If I told her the truth—that this scratch-off was my mother’s idea of a semester’s living expenses, the only reason I was still alive—she’d probably think I was either lying or insane.
“Payment code,” she said impatiently, holding up her phone.
I took out my battered old phone, its screen cracked in several places, and was about to pull up the code when I suddenly changed my mind.
“I’m not redeeming it,” I heard myself say. “I want to exchange it for a new ticket.”
She gave me a dramatic eye roll, tore off a fresh twenty-dollar scratcher, and dropped it in front of me.
“Hopeless. How does a university like this admit students like you?”
I’d heard words like that too many times already.
From roommates, from strangers, from people who didn’t know anything.
By then, they didn’t even sting anymore.
I took the new ticket, thanked her quietly, and left without scratching it right there.
I had only taken a few steps when my phone rang.
The name on the screen made me freeze.
Mom.
For a second, I simply stared. That number felt so distant and unfamiliar, like something from a past life.
I answered just before the call disconnected.
“Hello?”
My mother’s mocking voice came through immediately.
“Hmph. I thought you were too proud to answer my call. So, you finished those scratch-offs I gave you at the start of the semester, didn’t you? How much did the last one win?”
“Twenty.”
The sarcasm in her voice sharpened.
“Well, then. Guess you really are lucky. Amazing you didn’t starve to death.”
I finally snapped.
“Do you even know how I survived this semester?” I shouted into the phone. “I lived off my roommates’ leftovers and food I pulled out of the trash. And today, if my advisor hadn’t taken pity on me and bought me one meal, I probably would’ve collapsed and ended up in the hospital.”
I thought maybe hearing that would shake her.
Instead, she laughed coldly.
“So what? Are you trying to brag that your luck got you kind roommates and a kind advisor too? Zoe Parker, I’m trying to teach you not to rely on luck and chance. If luck got you into college, then surely luck can help you stay fed.”
Tears burst out of me.
“I didn’t get into this university through luck!” I screamed. “I didn’t win those competitions through luck either! I earned every one of those things through hard work!”
But my outburst only made her more impatient.
“Stop putting on a show. What hard work? I gave birth to you. You think I don’t know what you’re worth? Back when I was pregnant with you, I even fell on purpose a few times and still couldn’t get rid of you. If that’s not luck, what is?”
The blood in my body seemed to freeze.
It was the first time she had ever said it to me that plainly.
That cruelly.
I had heard relatives whisper before that when my mother found out she was carrying a girl, she hadn’t wanted to keep the baby. Back then, medical procedures weren’t as easy or accessible as they were now, and she had been too scared to go through with it. So she had me anyway.
Later, after complications, she lost the ability to have any more children. My father eventually divorced her, partly because they could not have another child.
All the ugly pieces suddenly clicked into place.
The anger and hurt that had been building in me for years finally exploded.
“If I’d known I’d grow up to live off scratch-off tickets like this,” I shouted, shaking, “do you think I would’ve chosen to be born?”
“Oh, now you’re talking back?” she said with a sneer. “Fine. Then next semester I’ll just switch to ten-dollar tickets instead. Since you’re so lucky, that should save me money too.”
Then she hung up.
I knew she had probably blocked me again.
I walked back to my dorm in a daze.
For a long time, I just sat there staring at the fresh ticket I had exchanged for.
Finally, I gathered the courage to scratch it.
First row. Nothing.
Second row. Nothing.
Third row. Nothing.
By the last row, I had accepted defeat. I closed my eyes and scratched wildly.
Then, after a long moment, I opened them again with trembling breath.
Won.
Prize amount: $5,000,000.
For a second, I couldn’t even understand what I was seeing.
Then every emotion I had been holding inside—pain, rage, exhaustion, disbelief—crashed into one overwhelming wave.
And above all of them, joy.