“5.”

I glanced down at the ticket in my hands as I sat on the floor in my parents’ living room. I had just turned eighteen, eligible for my first lottery ticket, and I decided to get one on a whim. And now they were announcing the winner. So far, one number in, I matched.

“23.”

Another match. I felt my heart rising in my chest, hopeful, pleading. I glanced up at the television, trying to lock gazes with the woman on the screen. Maybe if I begged, mentally, she would announce the rest of the numbers on my ticket. I could pay off college. I could go to graduate school and get my Masters in volcanology, something very few schools even offered. After that, I would take my million dollars and begin my dream job, a field researcher who travels across the world to study volcanoes for universities and research centers.

“19.”

I swallowed hard. That was another number on my ticket. Everything was working out so far. How did this happen on my first try? Beginner’s luck? Perhaps.

My mind wandered as the woman reached for the next number. What would I ever do with twenty million dollars? I could never spend it all. I was thrifty enough with ten dollars, let alone twenty million. The number was practically unimaginable. I would give some to my parents, I know. I would pay off the house for them, pay their bills, allow my dad to retire and let my mom travel the world like she’s always wanted. Maybe I would even give some to my sister, as annoying as she was sometimes. Rather than have her search for scholarships and struggle to come up with financial aid for her own college, I would pay for her. I don’t want my family to suffer any more than we already have.

“47.”

I couldn’t restrain a soft gasp. This wasn’t possible. Only one number left, and if I matched, all these thoughts might become a reality. I wondered briefly how much the state of Rhode Island would take out of my winnings. I would probably only get half, but ten million dollars is still unbelievable. I couldn’t imagine the celebrities who made hundreds of millions in one year. What they did with that money, I had no idea. They lived in luxury. They spent it on things they didn’t need, and on people they didn’t love. I couldn’t imagine doing that.

My mind drifted again, but my eyes stayed fixed to the screen. The woman was choosing the last number. What would I do with the last several million? My sister would get two million. My parents would get the same. I would have a million for myself, for college and other expenses. I didn’t need more than that. I want to work anyways.

The Welcome House. My dad was always talking about them, saying how they needed our help. We had gone to visit several times, donating food and clothes, letting the people without homes see that they’re still loved and wanted. A million dollars would transform the building into an incredible place of safety and security for scores of people.

The Gilbert Stuart Birthplace and Museum is next, I think. They need money for historic preservation. Their antique waterwheels are close to being destroyed, and their staff is underpaid and overworked. If they had a million dollars, they would have the ability to hire historical workers, archeologists, and workers who be better prepared to preserve the waterwheels and deprecating buildings.

I sighed and looked back down at my ticket. The woman was pausing for dramatic effect before she read out the last number. I wanted to yell, scream at her to say it, to stop prolonging the suspense, but my mind drifted to one more place to which I might send a million or two. My old school, a tiny Christian private school I had attended for nine years, had been practically begging its alumni for money lately. They wanted to expand and spread the benefits of their incredible educators and curriculum to more members of the community. With a million dollars, or even two million, they might be able to advertise for more students, hire more teachers, and expand the school in order to house the students.

My mind reeled slightly. Why had I not thought of the school before? I spent nine years of my life there. They allowed me to reach places I never dreamed I would reach, and they prepared me with an education unrivaled by any public school I had visited.

“4.”

I snapped back into reality with a sharp gasp, my hands trembling as they gripped the ticket so hard that my knuckles turned white. It wasn’t possible. It just… wasn’t possible. I had won. I had won a twenty million dollar lottery, and all those ideas that just raced through my head had incredible possibility, even probability.

Excitement pulsing through my veins, I jumped up and burst into a dance, knowing anyone watching would probably laugh. I couldn’t help it. It was instinctive; I had money for college, for my parents’ retirement and my mother’s medical bills. I had money to pay for my sister’s college and for my old elementary and middle school’s expansion. I had money. I had money.

The thought overwhelmed me. I sat down again, swallowing hard as I reached for the phone on the table. My hands shaking, I dialed a number from memory and held the receiver to my ear.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Come on, pick up…”

“Hi, Morgy, what’s up?”

My mother’s nickname for me stopped the shaking and I could barely stop myself from shouting into the phone. “MOM! Mommy, I won! I won the lottery! I won!”