You May Already Be a Winner

by Ann Dee Ellis

But then, moms weren’t allowed to crack.

  It should be a law.

  Because what about their kids?

  What about me and Berk?

  Weren’t we someones?

  I closed my eyes and tried so hard to hear a helicopter coming.

  From far away I heard his voice. He said, “Can you please help me? Help me make this work?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He was quiet.

  Then he said, “I don’t remember you being like this.”

  “Being like what?” I said.

  “Stubborn,” he said, rubbing his face.

  My heart started thumping. He didn’t remember me being like this? He didn’t remember me being like this? I made a goal not to talk to him ever again for the rest of my life. But then I couldn’t help it, I said, “I don’t remember you being like this.”

  He looked at me. “Like what?”

  I was about to say something like a butthead. You are a butthead. But then I knew that wasn’t what I really wanted to say. What I wanted to say was so big, so huge, so gigantic, it wouldn’t fit in this trailer. It wouldn’t fit in this entire neighborhood. What I wanted to say could blow up the entire state of Utah, it was so big.

  So instead I said, “I’m going to my friend Bart’s house for dinner.”

  Dad looked at me. “What?”

  I said it again.

  He said, “When?”

  I said, “Tonight.”

  He said, “He invited you to dinner?”

  I said, “Yes.”

  He said, “I don’t know his parents. And isn’t his name Harrison?”

  I said, “So.”

  And he said, “So I don’t even know his name.”

  I said, “So.”

  He said, “So you can’t go.”

  I said, “What?”

  And he said, “You can’t go.”

  I said, “What are you talking about?”

  He said, “I don’t think your mom would let you go.”

  “Yes, she would.”

  He sat for a minute.

  Then he said, “Would she?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Then I thought about it, would she? I thought she would. Would she not?

  Then I thought how she’d let me take Berkeley to school and how she definitely wouldn’t care if I went to some stranger’s house for dinner.

  I said, “She’d let me go.”

  He looked at me. “Would she?” he said again.

  “She would.”

  He stopped talking.

  He looked at his hands.

  Then he said, “Is she really okay?”

  Is she okay? Was he talking about Mom? He was talking about Mom.

  “Uh,” I said. “No.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  Then he said, “She told me she was fine. That she was working nights to maybe go to college. Be a nurse or some crap. I should have known she was lying.” He paused.

  Was that what she was saving for?

  He kept going, talking more to himself than me. “I can’t believe she let you take Berk to school with you.” He sighed. “I’ll call her.”

  “Call who?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “Your mom.”

  He could call her?

  He was just going to call her?

  On the phone?

  He could call her.

  I said, “You can call her?” my voice hard to get out.

  He looked at me funny. “Of course I can call her.”

  “What about the no contact.”

  He sighed. “That was only for a couple of days. Forty-eight hours but we decided she should take some time for herself, take a little break before she came back.”

  A break.

  A break.

  Take a little break.

  Then he said, “I talked to her earlier.”

  He’d called her. He’d talked to her.

  I swallowed. “In Wisconsin?”

  He was tapping something on his phone. Distracted. “What?”

  “Is she still in Wisconsin,” I asked.

  “She was,” he said, not looking at me. “She’s not anymore.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s at a friend’s house.”

  “What friend?” my blood pumping. Mom didn’t have that many friends.

  He ignored me. Started doing something on his phone.

  “What friend?” I asked.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Where is she, Dad?”

  He set the phone down and took a big breath.

  He turned his ring on his finger, which, why was he wearing that all of a sudden? He never wore it before.

  “Where is she?”

  He sighed. “I told her to give me a little more time. I told her to stay away.”

  “Where. Is. She.”

  He looked at me. “She’s at Delilah’s.”

  I busted out the door.

  “Olivia, stop,” Dad said.

  But I didn’t stop.

  The sun was still high in the sky and everyone was out.

  I ran right down the street, past Carlene and dumb-bum Bonnie. Carlene said, “Olivia, wait,” but I ignored her. Past Berk working on the circus with Sadie and Jane. Past Melody, who sat on her steps. Past Bob, who was doing something to his motorcycle with Grant and yelling at him to hand him a wrench. Past Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson’s house where it smelled like burning bread. Past UFC Paul’s trailer, where he probably wasn’t home. All the way to the corner where Delilah lived.

  I went right up the steps.

  Pounded on the door.

  Delilah, in her floral peacock T-shirt that she always wore and which Mom said was a crime against humanity, opened the door, Ruthanne jumping at her feet.

  “Olivia!” she said. So surprised! So surprised! “What are you doing here?”

  I pushed past her into the trailer where there she was.

  My mom.

  Sitting on the couch.

  Watching a TV show. Chopped.

  Like it was any other old day.

  She stood up.

  I felt tears about to burst and I didn’t want them to burst. I wanted to be strong and to tell her exactly how I felt. Exactly how I felt, so with my fingers clenched so hard I was sure I was bleeding, I said, “I am done with you.”

  “Olivia,” she said. Coming over and trying to hug me.

  I said, “Stay away from me.”

  Dad was right behind me now.

  “I’m done with you, too,” I said.

  Mom said, “Olivia, wait.” Maybe she was going to cry. Maybe she wasn’t. Who cared?

  Dad said, “Calm down.”

  Delilah said, “Let me get y’all some Cokes.”

  And like that, I ran out of there and kept on running and never turned back.

  Steve Fossett didn’t grow up rich. He made his own fortune.

  He learned how to swim by diving in the dirty pond on the outskirts of his town.

  He swam every day.

  He learned how to program computers by being friends with nerds.

  He started training his legs for mountain climbing by working in a brickyard.

  He read the Scout manual forward and backward and he left his whole stupid family and all the rest of it behind to become the best adventurer in the entire world.

  He made his own fortune.

  ~

  No more sweepstakes for me.

  No more waiting on Carlene to go to Monster Jam.

  No more Mom.

  No more Dad.

  I was going to make my own fortune.<
br />
  I was going to do it on my own.

  I ran to my house.

  Now Berkeley and Sadie and Jane were over by Melody eating her cookies, which are bribes I’d figured out. Maybe Dad had hired Melody to bribe us. To sit on the porch and look sad and tell us about horseflies. Maybe everyone in this trailer court was in on it. Maybe they were trying to trap us and make us think we could never leave and that our lives were stuck. Maybe the whole thing was a sting operation and Bart was right. I should’ve been more careful and I should’ve been on the lookout and my parents were both in on it actually and they were trying to ruin my life and it was working.

  “Berkeley!” I said.

  She came over. “Melody is going to help with the circus. She said she talked to you about it. She can do the unicycle.”

  “Berk. I have to go. We have to go.”

  “Where?”

  Where. Where. Where.

  “I don’t know but I’ll take care of you, okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  Berk stared at me.

  “Come on. We have to hurry,” I said, trying to drag her along.

  She pulled away. “We can’t leave,” she said.

  I didn’t have time to explain. How could I explain? She wouldn’t understand.

  “We’re going,” I said.

  She still wouldn’t move.

  “Dad’s back. He’s going to take care of us. We can’t leave.”

  “He’s not going to take care of us,” I said. “He’s a jerk and he only cares about himself and he left us, Berk. He left us and Mom.”

  Her face went white. “He’s back,” she said, her voice small.

  I should have stopped but I didn’t. I didn’t. I said, “He left us once and he’ll leave us again. He doesn’t care about us.”

  She didn’t move. Frozen in place. “What about the circus?” she whispered.

  The stupid circus. The stupid stupid circus.

  “There’s not going to be a circus, okay? I made it up. There’s no circus. No circus.”

  She sat on the ground then. Sat there and I couldn’t do it. I could not do it.

  I went inside. I slammed the door.

  Got my bag. Threw in some clothes. Some paper and pens. My notebook. All the rest of the Oreos and a bag of Doritos. The Steve Fossett memoir that I needed to renew at the library and all the money I had in the world which was sixteen dollars and forty-two cents from using the metal detector and which I was saving for Las Vegas in case they needed money for gas and I also grabbed thirty-six Nickle City tickets which could get me candy if I got desperate.

  Then I ran back outside.

  Berk still sat there and I was sorry but I would figure it out later.

  “I’ll come back for you,” I said. “I promise.”

  Tears were running down her face and my heart was breaking but I had to go. I had to go.

  No more.

  And then here they came.

  Mom and Dad walking around the corner.

  Talking to Delilah.

  Taking their sweet time.

  The funny thing, Mom was wearing the most beautiful white sundress flowing down to her ankles. Her hair loose and, though she was acting upset, you could tell that now that Dad was back, now that he was walking by her side, she was lit up again.

  I wanted to scream.

  And Dad, he seemed like he was in charge. A big large and in-charge man.

  The two of them almost glowing in the light from the lowering sun.

  Barf on a stick.

  I turned to find my bike.

  “Olivia!” Dad yelled.

  I ran faster.

  “Olivia!”

  I got on the bike, threw my backpack on, and took off for the bike trail.

  “Livy!”

  He was probably getting his bike. Or maybe just running or maybe he’d stopped to get a latte.

  Either way, before either of them could do a thing, I was gone.

  ~

  I left my sister.

  On the bike path there were lots of people.

  People laughing.

  People jogging.

  People holding balloons.

  People on Rollerblades.

  None of them were running away from home.

  None of them had parents who were liars.

  None of them lived in Sunny Pines and ate tuna fish sandwiches with Doritos for a living.

  ~

  Just then, a lady collapsed.

  And I gave her CPR.

  And everyone cheered.

  ~

  No I didn’t.

  I never do anything.

  I sat in the park.

  Under a pine tree.

  I ate Doritos.

  I watched police cars go by, with policemen talking on their walkie-talkies.

  I met a girl named Persephone who gave me a banana.

  I sat there and tried to figure out what to do.

  The only thing I could come up with was this: Go to dinner at Bart’s house. 911 North Elm Street. Have him take me to FBI headquarters. Save Berkeley.

  It was a stupid plan but I wanted to tell the FBI that my parents were lying criminals.

  And I wanted to take my first step just like Steve Fossett did. For him it was the fifty miler. For me, it was dinner at Bart’s house.

  I sat on the grass on the corner of North Elm Street.

  In a half hour I was supposed to eat dinner with Bart and his mom and they lived in a little house that had chipped paint and a chain-link fence and the next-door neighbor had four cars on his lawn but still their house was nice. There were flowers in front and a swing and a dog probably.

  They probably had cloth napkins.

  They probably listened to classical music.

  They probably ate kale.

  I wondered if Bart would let me stay there until I figured out where to go or what to do.

  or . . .

  Maybe if they had an extra bedroom I could be a normal part of the family just for a little bit.

  ~

  I sat.

  I wondered what he’d say. I wonder if Bart would think I was brave or strange or stupid.

  Just then, a truck pulled up to Bart’s house.

  A truck. A truck I had seen a million times.

  ~

  It was Grant.

  I thought about getting on my bike and riding away.

  Had he followed me? But how?

  Was he a part of the search party?

  Was there a search party? I hadn’t seen any flyers around yet.

  What if Bart had lured him there? What if he was about to be SWAT teamed? Was everything about the FBI really true?

  I stood up and started walking over even though it wasn’t smart. Especially if Grant was out looking for me.

  But I was tired.

  I got nearer to the house and thought it would be very interesting to see what happens if he was a criminal.

  But then, the front door opened.

  Bart’s mom came out. She was in tight jeans and a tight T-shirt and just like my mom, she had her hair flowing all over the place.

  I froze.

  “Hey, babe,” she said. Surely she wasn’t talking to Grant.

  Surely.

  But then she ran out and before I could even think, she was jumping into dumb-bum wanted-by-the-FBI, possible criminal mastermind, for-sure-horrible-hygiene Grant’s arms.

  Just like that.

  And then they started kissing.

  My heart went down to my stomach.

  Bart came out then, too.

  He looked horrified.

  But not.

  He actually looked normal.

  Like this kind of thing happened all the time
.

  He walked past them kissing, turned on the hose, and started watering the flowers.

  What was happening?

  And then I realized why Bart had been spying on Grant.

  He looked across the street at me.

  Our eyes locked.

  And I couldn’t do this anymore.

  I couldn’t take this anymore.

  I turned to run.

  Then I didn’t turn to run.

  I just stood there. In the middle of the road.

  He walked over.

  He said, “Hey.”

  I said, “Hey.”

  He said, “You were missing.”

  I said, “How did you know?”

  He said, “Grant.”

  We both looked over at them still hugging.

  Then I said, “Your mom’s boyfriend is Grant?”

  And he said, “Yes.”

  I said, “Oh.”

  He said, “They fight a lot.”

  I said, “They do?”

  He said, “Yeah.”

  And I thought about when Grant got mad and me and Bart holding hands and lying there and how scary Grant could get and how Bart’s mom loved him because they were kissing even though he got mad and I felt sad for Bart right then.

  He said, “Are you okay?”

  I looked at him.

  Bit my lip.

  Then I said, “You turned us in.”

  “I know.”

  “Why? Why did you do that?”

  He dug his shoe into the pavement. Looked at the ground and said, “I got scared. You sent me that email and when I saw it, I just, I got scared.” He paused. Looked at me. “What if something bad happened to you? What if, what if you tried to get a ride with someone or went on the bus and you got murdered. Or you got hurt or lost or you know, something bad?”

  My heart beat fast and hard and I felt like I might cry.

  “I didn’t want to do it but,” he said. “But, I just, I wanted you to be okay. I wanted you to have help.”

  I nodded, the tears welling.

  “I could have done it,” I said.

  And he said, “I know. I know you could’ve but I just, something inside me, like I can’t explain, something in me told me I should call. That it was the right thing to do.”

  I kept nodding, wiping my eyes.

  He kept going. “When I saw you at the pool and I was so worried you would never talk to me again. I was worried and then you came and you were, you were, you were you. Like you just forgave me. I couldn’t believe it. There’s no one like you, Olivia. No one. Not anywhere.”