A Whole Lot of Lucky by Danette Haworth, Cara Shores Page A

the mashed potatoes.
    â€œWe won the lottery,” I say in a
Dad-did-you-forget
voice.
    â€œYes, but we’re not rich.” Dad keeps a straight face as he says this.
    I try to stare him down, but I lose and start laughing first. “Yeah, right! Good one.”
    â€œHailee,” Mom says. “Remember we told you how it works? We’re taking the money as installments—that means we get a little money each year, enough that I can quit the newspaper and not take on any Christmas jobs.”
    What?
    Mom’s mouth keeps moving, but all I hear is this:
Blah blah blah
college fund.
Blah blah
investments
blah
future
blahaha mwahaha mwahahaha! Mwahahaha!
    I snap out of it. “College? That’s years away! What about the stuff we could use right now? I thought winning the lottery would change our lives, but I still don’t have a good bike or new clothes or anything! Where’s my cell phone? Where’s my computer? I need a new backpack.” My words flash like a sharp sword. I home in on Mom before delivering the final blow. “You don’t even know what it takes to get good grades.”
    The hurt in her eyes tells me I’ve struck a vital chord.
    â€œThat’s enough,” Dad says in a husky voice. “Don’t ever disrespect your mother like that.” He covers her hand with his.
    I lower my head. I guess I did cross the line there. “Sorry,” I say.
    Dad clears his throat. “Your mother and I have been talking—more than talking. We’re enrolling you in the Magnolia Academy for Girls.”
    â€œWhat?” My voice scrapes the ceiling.
    Silence.
    â€œI said I was sorry!”
    Dad shakes his head. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that. The curriculum there is supposed to be excellent. Magnolia was listed in the paper as one of the top private schools in the area. Mom visited last Friday and she was very impressed.”
    â€œNo! I said I was sorry!” Desperate, my eyes seek forgiveness from my mom. “I don’t need a phone or a computer or any of that stuff. You don’t have to buy me anything.” I’ll eat bread and butter the rest of my days. I’ll use newspapers as blankets. “Just please don’t make me switch schools.”
    â€œHailee,” Mom says, stretching her hand out to me. I don’t take it. “We were lucky—their principal said the quarter just ended and it’s the perfect time to start.” Her voice becomes reverent. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
    Stumbling up from my chair, I wipe the tears away. “It’s the
punishment
of a lifetime! You hate me.”
    Mom’s mouth drops.
    Dad starts to say something, but I wave away his words. “You both hate me!” I yell, and before they can say anything else, I run upstairs, slam the door, and lock it.
    Imprisoned in my own room. Without even the phone so I can call Amanda.
    I am truly alone.
    Chapter seventeen is where I’m at in
Because of Winn-Dixie.
Opal has met a girl named Amanda and they don’t like each other but you can tell they’re going to be friends. Since I read a lot of books, I know stuff like that. Anyway, there is nothing but sadness in this chapter. Opal eats a piece of candy and it reminds her how lonely she is, and the first thing she says about loneliness is how she misses all her friends from where she used to live. I know exactly how she feels. Moving to a new school will be just like moving to a new town—I won’t know anyone and no one will know me.
    I am just like Opal. I even have a friend named Amanda
and
I live in Florida. If they make a sequel to the movie, I should probably play Opal’s part. I wonder if I should write to the author and tell her.
    The next chapter is even sadder. If you want to know why, I can’t tell you. You have to read it for yourself, but don’t skip right to that part just because you want to