Lottery Read Online Free

two hundred and fifty-two dollars once. Chuck shoves my chair, jabs me in the back, and smells like Listerine. He likes to let me know he is there watching over my shoulder. My markers slide off the numbers on my card whenever he pushes me. He also scratches my head and makes my hair stick up.
    “Time for a haircut, sonny!” My name is not Sonny.
    “Leave him alone!” Gram has eyes in the back of her head. That is what Chuck says. “Woman, you got eyes in the back of your head,” he says.
    I laugh. Her eyes are right where they are supposed to be.
    Chuck is the only one at bingo who treats me like I am retarded. He is taller than me. There is always a person who is taller than you unless you are Michael Jordan or someone like that. Chuck is a jerk.
    “Ignore him, Perry! He’s a jerk! There are jerks all over. Everybody has jerks in their lives,” Gram says. One of her jerks is the woman on the front desk at Social Security. Gram had a hard time getting Gramp’s Social Security death benefit. I thought it was cool you got a prize for dying, but it was very hard to collect.
    “And then there’s the guy that answers the phone at Medicare.”
    Gram has a lot of jerks, at least as many as me.
    “We need another list for jerks,” I say.
    Thursday mornings are my favorite time. That is when I go with Keith and do extra jobs at Carroll’s Boatyard next to the store. I have to wear my oldest blue jeans when I work there. Gram would not be caught dead in jeans.
    “Those blue jeans, Perry! Women get all kinds of diseases from them. It’s better to wear a good cotton dress from Kmart. Airs out my privates!” she says. “It’s okay for you. You can wear jeans. Men don’t need to air out their privates.”
    Privates are personal parts that you do not show people.
    Gram and I get hamburgers at McDonald’s on Friday after work and go to an early movie. The 5:45 show costs only two dollars. We buy the small bag of popcorn and sneak in our bag of Hershey’s Kisses from Marina Handy Mart. The movie guys do not like it when we bring in our own food. I think we should be able to take our food anywhere we want. It is our food.
    Saturday is the busiest day at Holsted’s. Everybody needs lots of boat stuff on weekends, like rope, metal parts, and beer. They have to buy the beer from Marina Handy Mart. Holsted’s does not sell beer. Our floor is gray tile and gets very dirty from wet and muddy feet. The parking lot is gravel and has puddles. Most people do not clean their shoes off on the mat before they walk into the store. That is so rude.
    I have to work until six-thirty on Saturday. Gary and Manuel leave early. Keith and I close up together. He gives me a ride home and then stays for spaghetti night. We have our weekly cribbage contest. Gram makes the tomato sauce in the big pan. It has to simmer for two hours. It is the only thing she cooks now. Keith and Gram play first, while I boil the noodles. The loser sets the table while I play the winner.
    Keith thinks he has to coach me.
    “Throw two away. Come on, Per! Sometime today!” he complains, but I take my time. When I play cards with Keith, he gets antsy. Antsy is when you think everybody else is too slow. Most people are antsy. I always win at cribbage. You only have to know numbers like what makes fifteen and how to add up to thirty-one. The rest is luck. And I am lucky.
    On Sunday morning before I go into work, Gram and I eat cinnamon rolls, read the paper, and check our Lotto numbers. This is my very favorite time because we pretend to win the lottery. I love pretending.
    “Come on! Come on!” I cheer.
    "This is it! I can feel it in my bones.” Gram can feel a lot in her bones.
    “Oh-two. Oh-five. One-four. Two-four. Three-two. Four-four. ” I read them off to Gram. She says nope after each number that is wrong and yep for each right number. We check all ten numbers twice. That is like getting more chances to win. It is as if we bought more than just five