A Right Angle?

This is a test! She had inside information all right, but only through intuition. Then again, a woman should have seen the double cross coming. Right?

She taught Geometry, a series of theorems (given this, then that), to middle schoolers. Just follow the steps; if only it were that easy! As calculating as she was, she couldn’t say no. Somewhere, a parallel universe exists wherein she is doing only right things and right things are happening for her. She wished she resided in that universe. Given her roommate’s propensity for dating losers, she expected little, though she wished better for her friend.

She wished more for herself, too. She hated being suckered into the weird side quests she was constantly pressured into. If only her roommate’s boyfriend had not asked for a ride to the day laborer’s lot! She needed to stop for gas across the street from that lot anyway. She hated to touch the pump handle. Given he needed the ride, she could benefit from his help at the pump.

He promptly squelched her idea, plucking the $20 bill from her and stating, “I will take care of this!” As he strolled into the store, she weighed her options. She could wait for him to pump the gas, but she hated to waste the time. Upon returning, he tucked the receipt and some tickets into a notebook he extracted from his left hip pocket. She demanded her receipt, which he surrendered with a little huff. She scrutinized it as he impatiently explained he had, on impulse, purchased four $1 scratch off lottery tickets. Her car took only $15.87 of the cash she had given him, and the clerk advised the odds of winning was 1 in 4. Given the odds, he assured her “they” were bound to win back at least a dollar.

Her mind raced with remonstration, for he had snatched the money, adding insult to injury with the audacity of spending her change. She was flabbergasted and wanted to demand recompense. Instead, she sighed, adjusted her horn-rimmed sunglasses, shifted the car into drive, and proceeded to the parking lot across the street. She had committed to the ride, but the extra time she had allotted was running out. As if by afterthought, he handed her a single dime, advising that he had magnanimously placed the pennies, on her behalf of course, in the empty pocket of the “Have one, leave one/Need one, take one” dispenser at the register. He unfurled his six-foot frame from the passenger seat of her Smart car for the second time that day, and she suppressed a giggle at the spectacle. Given she usually placed pennies into those cash register dispensers herself, she simply pocketed the dime and drove to work.

During her lunch hour, she returned to her car, preferring the sun-soaked, hot car to the antiseptic over-conditioned air of the teacher’s lounge. There, wedged against the seatbelt and the back of her passenger seat, she found the little black notebook. It was clearly some sort of classic planner, with rounded corners and a soft, worn leather cover, held together by an elastic band. Given its current position, it must have been overlooked in the morning frenzy.

Compelled by curiosity and the tongue of a silky ribbon, she opened it to a list of contacts, including some she knew. Thumbing through, she observed his organizational style was part affirmation and part listing, with some poetry thrown in here and there. The expandable back pocket contained a pamphlet with the history of Moleskine, a portrait of himself with his mother and four siblings appearing remarkably close in ages, a $5 bill, the four scratch-off lottery tickets, and miscellaneous receipts. She returned the contents to the pocket and continued to inspect the notebook. Given the intrigue she felt at being alone with it, she needed to inspect its contents to assure herself he was not a serial killer.

Obviously, he thought highly of this possession, for he’d layered several mailing labels over the spot indicating “In case of loss, please return to:” on the front flyleaf, and he’d listed a $50 reward. Judging from the many address labels, he’d certainly relocated several times before landing in Charleston, SC. Given the faded handwriting beneath the labels, he was originally from Bloomfield, MO 63825.

Further inspection revealed some of the contacts included a description, like SHY next to her own name. She rather resented that, especially in all CAPS! Sure, her roommate was more outgoing, but she had her share of fun and the occasional date. Her house wasn’t filled with cats—her allergies would never allow that at any rate. Given she saved money by staying home, she took pride in a comfortable, uncomplicated lifestyle.

A notation next to the contact information for her friend’s single mother shocked her to her core: MILF. Given she taught middle schoolers, she knew exactly what that meant: Mother I’d Like to Four-letter-word. Given the “L” was marked through…

Absentmindedly, she put her hand into her pocket, encountering the dime. Indignation bubbled to the surface at the reminder of the morning, and she flipped back to retrieve the tickets she’d just replaced. Given her own money, used without permission, the tickets were technically hers.

Then again, he may have intended to give her the five dollars she’d encountered in the same pocket. Given that he’d made no effort to give her more than the dime, she doubted he’d even share whatever treasure each ticket’s façade may conceal.

Before she could ponder further, she used the dime to scratch furiously at the first ticket, revealing a series of numbers, symbols, and dollar amounts. At first, she could make neither heads nor tails of the boxes; then, she realized the first ticket was a winner. Indeed, it was worth $1. Well then...here were the odds he’d predicted. Even still, a sense of accomplishment at having taken control spurred her onward. The silvery dust created by the scratching annoyed her, a necessary evil and fitting punishment for her snooping. Given she had already started down this path, she’d finish it.

By the time she had scratched the second ticket and started on the third, she began to lose momentum. Then she saw the diamond symbol, identifying this as THE TICKET for the $20k grand prize! SHE WON! Given this newfound elation, she had to do something.

With mind racing and stomach churning, she dialed her principal to clear her schedule. Something unexpected had come up, and she needed to leave immediately. Given that hers was the late lunch, all that remained of her schedule was a study hall and an advanced class, which could easily be covered by the school’s secretary, who probably needed the extra income.

She was not a spontaneous person. She needed time to formulate a plan. Using her smartphone, she googled the process for cashing in the ticket. Thrilled to find a number, she quickly made the call. The young man who answered explained she would have to swear to ownership as friends and family often finagle participation, claiming some stake, in winnings. Her phone beeped, indicating an incoming call from her roommate. She sent the call to voicemail as the representative further advised lottery tickets are bearer instruments; whoever possesses a ticket can cash it in, which is why it is important to sign the back of every ticket. Given this information, she calculated just enough time to revisit the SnappyMart and get to the Columbia Claims Center by the 4 p.m. cut-off for claiming prizes.

The plan was devious. She would purchase duplicate tickets; should the loser (as she’d come to think of him) find out about her win, she would have proof of making the purchase. Her roommate called twice more as she formulated her plan. She let it go to voicemail each time. Given he had purchased the tickets, she wanted to be seen purchasing the winning ticket.

She raced to the convenience store, where she had to use the ATM to get cash because the clerk would not allow her to use her debit card at the register. Exasperated by the $3.25 surcharge at the ATM, she almost backed out. She reminded herself she didn’t have the luxury of any other option for this vital purchase. Given the day was filled with schedule restraints, she grew weak with the pressure of time.

Her phone died as she turned onto Elmwood Avenue in Columbia. Between her roommate’s incessant calls and the GPS application, the battery had finally given out. Luckily, she recalled the address from her earlier conversation with the lottery representative. Her dash clock revealed she had ten minutes to get the few blocks to Assembly Street. She hadn’t factored in traffic and parking, however, so missed the deadline by fifteen minutes. Given she had come this far, she must stay overnight.

She found a Marriott not far from the Claims Center. Once there, she bought a charger for her phone and ordered room service. Once her phone charged, she noticed her voicemail was full, including a missed call from her mom. She took care of her work obligation before returning that call; she tended not to ignore calls from a parent. Given the coming four-day weekend, she’d use only one of the many sick days she had accumulated.

Her mother wanted to invite her to Savannah for the long weekend. She said she would think about it but couldn’t commit. Based on the number of missed calls from her roommate, she suffered a momentary pang of guilt, but she was too anxious to listen to her messages. Guilt gave way to delight when she made her way to the boutique down the block from the hotel to purchase a few items for her little getaway. Given the coming windfall, she could afford to splurge a little.

She returned to the hotel, where she began planning what to do with the prize money. Of course, there would be taxes, which would account for at least 15% of it, leaving $17,000, if not more. After paying her tithes, she’d invest $10,000 in her IRA, leaving over $5,000--more than enough to take a nice vacation, perhaps a cruise. She might even take her roommate if she could find a good enough deal. She fell asleep dreaming of the fun they would have. Given what she’d gleaned from the notebook, her friend would surely need a distraction once the relationship with the loser fell apart.

She was first in line at 8:30 a.m. when the Claims Center opened. An hour and a half later, she stepped into the bright, clear day with a hefty check, which she took immediately to the Columbia branch of her bank. The bank put a three day hold on the check. Given the amount, the hold was expected.

She had yet to listen to her messages. Having anticipated her roommate’s annoyance with her erratic behavior, she had put the task off. Once she mustered the courage to face the ignored messages, however, she grew increasingly horrified at what she heard. Apparently, the loser’s boss reported that someone had taken him from his job site around lunchtime. She wasn’t answering her phone and couldn’t be reached at school suddenly, and could the unexpected “something” her principal mentioned be connected to a certain roommate’s boyfriend? Putting the two together, and not knowing the whereabouts of either, the roommate now “knows” the two are having an affair! She disconnected after the second message. Appalled, she refused to dignify these accusations with a response. Instead, she would visit her mother in Savannah. The notebook, the loser, and the roommate would just have to wait!