Life's Golden Ticket Read Online Free

the envelope on you now?” Henry asked, holding his gaze on me tightly.
    â€œUh, yeah. I do.”
    He held out his hand. “Can I see it?”
    It seemed an odd request, but I pulled the envelope from my hip pocket and offered it to him.
    Henry took it and said, “Oh, my. She never opened it.”
    His words unnerved me. “What?”
    â€œSomething went wrong,” he said uneasily.
    My mind raced. “What went wrong? Do you know Mary? Did you see her here? What happened to her?” As I blurted the questions, Henry didn’t take his eyes off the envelope.
    â€œHold on,” he said, “let me think.”
    A painful minute of anticipation went by.
    â€œYou were engaged to Mary?” Henry asked.
    â€œYes. Do you know her? ”
    â€œI do not,” he said flatly. “I don’t know Mary, and I don’t know exactly what happened to her. Everyone comes here for different purposes, and everyone experiences something different. But I do know something went wrong. If she never opened this envelope,” he said, turning it over in his hands, “then something inside the park went badly wrong.” He looked at me and shook his head, as if deciding something. “I’m going to help you find out what happened,” he said. “There’s just one problem.”
    â€œWhat?”
    Henry stared at the ticket booths and asked, “You don’t have an invitation to get in, do you?”

    T he sky’s amber hues faded into the heavier colors of dusk. The lights of the park blinked on, and each soon had a squadron of moths orbiting it. A faint strip of blue still bordered the tree-lined horizon. The night brought a pleasant coolness to the air. I stood behind Henry in the ticket line, hoping his plan would work.
    â€œJust remember,” he said as the woman in front of us walked to the booth window, “you can’t get in here on your own. So keep quiet once I start talkin’.”
    The woman in front of us passed something through a hole in the ticket booth. I couldn’t see the booth attendant, but the woman smiled at the person inside. Then she walked through the metal turnstile that separated us from the inside of the park.
    â€œNext, please!” a booming female voice called out from the ticket booth.
    Henry motioned me forward. I stepped up to the window and, on seeing its occupant, stopped immediately. She was massive, occupying almost the entire booth. Her jaw was working on a hot dog, and her left hand held a gigantic Slurpee. Ketchup and mustard leaked out of the hot dog, staining her tentlike yellow sundress. The window of the booth was clouded with steam. A small fan blew inside, but beads of sweat still formed on her wide brow. She grunted as she shoved more of the hot dog into her mouth.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, kid?” she said around the mouthful of hot dog.
    I couldn’t remember the last time I had been called “kid.” I continued to gawk until Henry gave me a gentle nudge in the ribs.
    â€œOh. Hi. Uh, I’m here to enter the park.”
    â€œThat’s novel,” she said sarcastically, more interested in her Slurpee than in me. “Where’s your invitation?”
    Henry gave me another elbow, this time to move me out of the way. He centered himself in front of the glass. “Betty, my dear, how are we today?”
    Betty stopped chewing at the sound of his voice. “Henry? What are you doing here?” She put the hot dog down and tried to wipe the condiments from her mouth and dress. By her tone, I got the impression Henry had some pull at the park.
    Henry slid Mary’s envelope to Betty and waited for her to examine it. He also positioned his body so I was out of her view. Standing to the side of the booth, I couldn’t see Betty’s face anymore, just her puffy white hands as they turned the envelope over.
    â€œThis is serious, Henry,” she said.
    Henry stared