Leaving Home Read online

  Elizabeth suddenly noticed that the first three numbers on Winston's ticket were the same as Jeffrey's birthday: 712. Jeffrey's birthday was July 12. She patted his knee under the table with her left hand as she passed the ticket back to Winston. Jeffrey was being so quiet. She hoped he wasn't upset about anything.

  "Now, listen, you guys," Winston said, carefully putting the ticket away inside his wallet. "I want you all to come over to my house tonight for a Get Rich Quick party. The lottery drawing is at ten o'clock, so make sure you're there in plenty of time." He grinned. "I don't want you to miss a single minute of my newfound wealth."

  "Winston," Lila groaned. Lila didn't find wealth one bit amusing, and she clearly didn't appreciate Winston's jokes.

  "You come, too, Lila," Winston said magnanimously. "I want you to be there so you can coach me on how to behave once I'm rolling in dough."

  Maria giggled. "I can't wait till you're rich, Winston," she said. "Once you've won the lottery, will you start buying your own lunches?"

  Everyone at the table laughed. Winston was fairly thin, but he was famous for his huge appetite. Once he had even tried to set the world record for pizza eating. And Maria had been contributing a good part of her allowance each week to keeping him full.

  "I don't think it's so farfetched," Jessica objected. "I saw this guy on the news last week who won the lottery. He bought wonderful presents for all his friends," she added significantly.

  "My intention exactly," Winston declared. "I'm serious," he added. "I want you all to come over tonight, OK?"

  "You can count on it," Enid promised. "We wouldn't miss this for the world!"

  Everyone else agreed. "This should be good," Lila declared, tossing back her auburn hair.

  "Can we bring anything?" Elizabeth asked him.

  Winston looked pained. "Are you kidding? This is the first party I'm throwing as a rich man, Liz." He laughed. "It's on me. And you can count on one thing. From now on, Winston Egbert is going to do things with style!"

  Elizabeth and Jeffrey had made plans to meet after school and drive to the mall, where Jeffrey wanted to find a birthday present for his mother. Ordinarily Elizabeth loved shopping for gifts, but that afternoon her mind was only partly occupied by the search for the perfect present for Mrs. French. She kept wondering whether or not there would be a letter from Mr. Hummel and the Interlochen School waiting for her at home.

  "I wish I'd win the lottery," Jeffrey said thoughtfully, leaning over a case in North's Jewelry Store and inspecting a display of watches. "My mom really wants a new watch, but these all look really expensive."

  Elizabeth smiled. "Just wait," she said. "If I get to go to Switzerland, I'll be able to find gorgeous watches—for a fraction of what they cost here."

  Jeffrey frowned, but he didn't say anything. "Let's get out of here," he said a minute later.

  Elizabeth stopped by a small case near the doorway. "Look at that pin," she murmured, her eyes bright. It was the prettiest thing she had ever seen—a tiny circle of pearls. Elizabeth didn't usually notice jewelry, but she thought the pin was exquisite.

  "It is pretty," Jeffrey said, putting his arm around her. "It would look really nice on you."

  Elizabeth was thoughtful as they left the store together. "Jeffrey, you seem kind of quiet," she remarked as they made their way through the mall toward the last store Jeffrey wanted to look in. "Is anything wrong?"

  Jeffrey looked at her, a funny expression on his face. "I guess—I don't know. It just gives me a really weird feeling to hear you talking about Switzerland. Liz, you're really serious about going, aren't you?"

  Elizabeth stared at him. "Of course I'm serious!" she exclaimed. "Jeffrey, can you imagine how wonderful it would be for me to get a chance to study in Europe? I'd get to travel—to meet people. . . ." Her face flushed with excitement. "I think it would be the most wonderful thing in the entire world!"

  "That's what I was afraid of," Jeffrey said softly. "Liz, I know I sound selfish, but I don't want you to leave." He frowned. "I don't even want you to want to leave, if that makes any sense."

  Elizabeth smiled and patted his arm. "It does," she assured him. "I think it'd be strange if you didn't feel that way—at least a little." She tucked her arm through his. "It's only natural. But it's not like we couldn't stay in touch. There'd be vacations, and we could always write and everything." She smiled up at him affectionately. "And it wouldn't be for that long. Only for our senior year."

  " 'Only for our senior year,' " Jeffrey repeated, shaking his head. "That's pretty funny, Liz! Especially coming from you—after all you and Todd went through when he moved to Vermont. Aren't you afraid the distance would get to be too much for us, too?"

  Elizabeth shook her head impatiently. "Of course not! That was a completely different thing," she declared. She really didn't see how Jeffrey could think the separation would hurt them as a couple. What he said about her former boyfriend, Todd Wilkins, was true. But then, Elizabeth reasoned, Todd had moved away forever. Elizabeth knew that after her year abroad she would be coming back to Sweet Valley. She was convinced the separation wouldn't have the same impact on Jeffrey and her.

  Besides, she didn't want to think back to the pain she had suffered when Todd had moved away. She was too busy looking at the display in the window of The Ski Shop. Imagine shussing down Mont Blanc or the Matterhorn! She could barely believe that in just a matter of months she might actually be living in Switzerland. It made her tingle all over just thinking about it.

  It was hard to know how seriously to take Jeffrey's objections. Elizabeth knew she couldn't discount the risks of long-distance romance. After all, she had experienced the agonies of that firsthand. When Todd had had to move to Vermont, they had both been devastated. For a long time they had tried to keep their relationship going, but they eventually realized that it was too difficult. It seemed more important to go on living their lives—separately—however hard it had been at first.

  So it wasn't as though Elizabeth didn't recognize how tough it was to carry on a long-distance relationship. And Switzerland was a lot farther away than Vermont. Phone calls would be difficult, if not impossible; letters would take days to get across the ocean. Everything back home would seem very far away.

  But Elizabeth couldn't make herself dwell on those aspects of her year abroad. After all, she and Jeffrey loved and trusted each other. They had a strong relationship. Why couldn't they sustain it?

  And they had always been careful not to be possessive of each other, or to limit each other's activities in any way. They both believed that each of them ought to keep trying as hard as possible to meet new people and have new experiences.

  Elizabeth was certain that deep down Jeffrey really felt the same way she did about the Interlochen School. She was sure he really wanted what was best for her. It occurred to her that she might have made a mistake by not emphasizing how much the year abroad meant to her. From then on she would be sure to talk about the school and the writing program much more often. She could show Jeffrey all the brochures she had received and emphasize how much the program meant to her.

  That way he would realize how important it all was, and he wouldn't feel left out of her decision.

  Elizabeth was certain that would be the best way to handle it. And once he realized how much—how completely—she wanted to go, she knew he would start to want it for her as well.

  "Jeffrey, let's go back over to my house after we find something for your mom," she said impulsively. "I want to show you the book on Switzerland that I took out of the library yesterday."

  Jeffrey's face was tense. "OK," he said briefly, looking away from her.

  But Elizabeth was too busy studying The Ski Shop display to notice his expression. She could hardly wait to show him the chapter on famous writers' reactions to the Alps. Before long Jeffrey was going to be as excited as she was about studying abroad. She was absolutely sure of it!

  Three

  Winston and Maria were de
ep in conversation as they entered Drake's, a small convenience store downtown. It was late afternoon and they wanted to pick up some things for the Get Rich Quick party at Winston's that evening.

  "How many of us will there be?" Maria asked as they walked down the aisle where the potato chips and soda were. "Let's see: the twins, Jeffrey, Lila, you and me—anybody else?"

  "Enid," Winston reminded her. "And I ran into Regina Morrow and Bruce Patman before seventh period and asked them to come, too. Regina's brother Nicholas. Let's see who else. Oh, I asked Olivia and Roger." Roger Patman was Bruce's cousin, and Olivia was his girlfriend.

  Maria giggled. "If you don't win the lottery, maybe a few of your guests can make it up to you by giving you part of their allowances this week."

  Winston laughed, too. Bruce Patman came from a family as wealthy as the Fowlers. In fact, the Patmans and Fowlers had been rivals for many years, often locking horns on community issues when one family wanted to prove it was more powerful than the other. "The Morrows aren't exactly on skid row, either," he reminded Maria. "I heard Regina's mother wants to buy her a Corvette for her birthday."

  Maria shook her head in disbelief. "I can't even imagine living that way," she said, picking up a bag of potato chips and putting it in their basket. "Honestly, Winston—all kidding aside about this lottery business—I'm really glad you're as ordinary as I am when it comes to money. I think it would be a little creepy being able to buy anything you wanted."

  Winston pretended to look grieved. "Does that mean we can't buy any cheese puffs?" he demanded.

  Soon the two had burst out laughing. They pretended to fight over whether to buy pretzels or taco-flavored chips. Maria was just reaching down for a six-pack of root beer when she accidentally bumped into a lovely little girl, who looked about seven years old. The girl was holding up a big bag of cookies and looking all around with a confused expression on her face. "Grandpa?" she said, her eyes big.

  Just then an elderly man came around the corner. "I'm right here, Lisa," he said, coming over to the little girl and putting his arm around her.

  "Grandpa, can we get these?" the child asked eagerly. "They're my favorite kind."

  The old man looked upset as he patted his granddaughter on the head. "Sweetheart, I told you," he said in a low voice, "I'm trying not to spend so much money on that stuff." He leaned over to scoop her up in his arms. "But you can have a big hug from Grandpa. How's that?" he asked, rumpling her hair.

  "Wow," Maria said under her breath as they watched the old man take his granddaughter up to the cash register. "See what I mean, Winston? It's so unfair! That man can't even afford to buy his granddaughter a bag of cookies."

  "Well," Winston said philosophically, "he can't be too poor, or he wouldn't be shopping in Drake's."

  "That isn't true," Maria protested. "He looks poor. His shoes are kind of shabby. And he's only buying a carton of milk."

  Winston followed her gaze. Maria was right. The old man was neatly dressed, but his trousers were worn thin at the knees and slightly frayed at the hems. He was carrying a navy blue jacket, which looked a lot like the jacket Winston had on, but his sweater was all stretched out and looked worn. The little girl, though perfectly groomed, was wearing a cotton dress that appeared to have been refitted for her—the hem had obviously been let down several times.

  "Well," Winston said again, clearing his throat. Watching the old man and his granddaughter had made him feel really sad, but he didn't know what to say or do about it. It was warm in the store, and he took his jacket off. "Let's pay for this stuff and go back to my house," he suggested, going up to the register. The old man was just taking a five-dollar bill out of his wallet.

  Winston and Maria heaped their purchases up on the counter and waited patiently as the old man put away his change. Setting his jacket down next to the root beer, Winston turned to resume his conversation with Maria. "Oh—I forgot the peanuts!" he exclaimed. He hurried back to the first aisle and chose the largest can he could find. By the time he got back to the register, the old man and his granddaughter had gone.

  "What's wrong?" Maria asked several minutes later. They were out in the parking lot, and Winston, who had just finished loading the food into the backseat of his family's station wagon, was frowning at the jacket in his hands.

  "I think that guy took my jacket," he muttered, slipping the navy blue coat on. Sure enough, it was a couple of sizes larger than Winston's—and much older. It felt as if it had been worn for years.

  "You're kidding," Maria said. "You mean he took yours by mistake?"

  "He must've confused them. I set mine down on top of the root beer, and—" Winston broke off. "Oh, well, I'll just go in and leave my phone number with the guy at the register. I'm sure the old man will realize his mistake the second he tries to put my jacket on—it'll be too small for him. Then he can call me and we'll swap them.

  "I'll wait out here for you," Maria said. Her face was thoughtful. She was worrying about the old man. It was a cool evening, and he'd need his jacket. He didn't seem exactly destitute, but all the same, she couldn't help worrying. What if he didn't have enough money to buy another jacket? Would he be all right until Winston could get hold of him?

  Maybe it was silly to worry about him so much, but the old man and his granddaughter had captured Maria's sympathy. She just hoped he would call Winston. She knew she'd keep feeling uneasy until he had his jacket back again.

  "Now, what time does this wonderful lottery drawing take place?" Lila demanded, her long legs tucked under her as she sat on the Egberts' living room sofa. Winston had dimmed the lights so the room would seem to be dramatically lit. Bowls of chips, pretzels, and cheese curls were set out, and everyone was getting into the spirit of the evening.

  "Ten o'clock," Winston said, rubbing his hands together. "Now I want all of you to be as calm as you possibly can. I'm going to go into the kitchen for a minute. And when I come back, you know what I'll have in my very own hands?"

  "We shudder to think," Bruce Patman said dryly.

  "A pint of almond-mocha ice cream?" Enid asked hopefully, and everyone giggled.

  "Nope! Guess again," Winston instructed.

  "Something tells me it's going to be a small green lottery ticket," Jessica said.

  "You're absolutely right. It's in the kitchen drawer, where I've been keeping it safe. Close your eyes and try not to get too excited. I'll be right back!" Winston exclaimed. He hurried into the kitchen, laughing.

  But the next minute the smile faded from his face as he was rummaging in the kitchen drawer. Where was it? He'd left it right there on top of his mother's matchbooks. He began to dig furiously through the drawer, and then all of a sudden he remembered. "I took it out and put it in my pocket," he murmured. He hurried to the coat closet at the far end of the kitchen and yanked it open. His gaze fell on the navy blue jacket, and an expression of horror crossed his face. The jacket! The old man had taken his jacket—and his lottery ticket was in the pocket.

  Winston couldn't believe it. He'd gotten all his friends to come over, he'd gone to all that trouble, turning the whole thing into such a big production, and he'd lost the ticket! He felt like a prize idiot. What was he going to tell everyone? That he had managed to let some old man walk off with his jacket, and his lottery ticket just happened to be in the pocket? Crestfallen, he slipped his hand into the right-hand pocket of the old man's coat, where his ticket should have been. It was empty, of course. He felt incredibly disappointed.

  "Winston?" Maria said, coming into the kitchen.

  Winston was just about to explain what had happened when his fingers touched a bit of cardboard in the left-hand pocket of the navy jacket. His eyes widened as he grasped it in his fingers. It felt like the right size. He couldn't believe his eyes as he withdrew it. It was another ticket! Now what were the odds of that? Obviously fate had made some kind of connection between the old man and himself. He pulled the ticket out and turned to Maria without saying anything about it. br />
  "It's almost time for the drawing!" Maria exclaimed. "We were wondering what was taking you so long."

  "I've just been trying to calm my shattered nerves," Winston said jovially, slipping his arm around her and following her back into the living room, where Ollie Perold, the famous disc jockey, was just about to announce the winning number of that week's lottery.

  "What's your ticket number, Winston?" Bruce asked, leaning forward to turn up the volume on the TV set. Ollie Perold was explaining that the jackpot for that week was up to twenty-five thousand dollars.

  Winston glanced down at the old man's ticket. "Nine-six-five-eight-one-one," he said.

  Frowning, Elizabeth glanced up at him. Had she heard him correctly? Weren't the first three numbers on the ticket 712? She never would have remembered if it weren't for that strange coincidence about Jeffrey's birthday. She made a mental note to ask Winston about it later.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, it's the moment you've all been waiting for!" Ollie Perold announced triumphantly. He turned to face the viewing audience with a big smile. "Now as you all know, the jackpot has been growing. Today's winner will receive—yes, folks, it's true—twenty-five thousand dollars!"

  This information was met with squeals and applause from everyone in the Egberts' living room. "Winston! Are they drawing the number?" Mrs. Egbert cried, hurrying into the living room. Mr. Egbert was right behind her, his expression both amused and curious. Everyone was literally on the edge of his seat. The tension mounted as Ollie leaned forward and took the envelope with that week's winning number inside from the technician. "OK, folks, hold on to your tickets!" he cried, ripping open the envelope. "The winning number is—are you listening? Are you checking your tickets? The winning number is nine-six-five-eight-one-one!"