With this thought, Christopher tiptoed to his sleeping bag. He got out one of his old tube socks. He reached in and pulled it out.
His pants money.
Then, he tiptoed around his mom and put it at the bottom of her purse. Jenny Hertzog could say “Floods!” to him for the rest of his life for all he cared.
Chapter 16
Floods! Floods!” Jenny Hertzog called out in the hallway.
But this time, it didn’t bother Christopher. He just felt sad for Jenny like he would for his mom. That didn’t make sense. But that was how he felt. He just thought Jenny was someone who had a lot worse things than “Floods” said to her. Or maybe her dad had a lot of bills at home and was cranky all the time. Whatever it was, he was glad he gave his mom the money. And he couldn’t wait for Ms. Lasko to give them their tests back today, so he could show his mom his first perfect.
When math period began, Ms. Lasko passed back all of the tests. Christopher looked around the room. He saw Kevin Dorwart got a 7 out of 7. Brady Collins got a 6 out of 7. Special Ed got a 2 out of 7. Matt and Mike got 5 each. But Christopher’s test didn’t come back. He didn’t know why. When the bell rang, and all the kids left for recess, Ms. Lasko kept Christopher after class.
“Christopher,” she said gravely. “I know you were gone for two weeks, and that you didn’t want to get behind. So, did you…did you look at anyone’s answers when you took the math quiz?”
Christopher swallowed. He shook his head no.
“I won’t be mad. But I don’t want you to cheat yourself out of learning how to do this for yourself. So, one more time, did you look at anyone’s answers for the pop quiz? Maybe Kevin Dorwart’s paper?” she asked.
“No, Ms. Lasko.”
Ms. Lasko studied his eyes closely. Christopher felt like a frog on a dissection table.
“You know, I’ve seen students who feel so much pressure to do well on tests that they always did badly. And when they were told it didn’t matter, they ended up doing really well,” she said.
Then, she smiled and gave him his pop quiz back.
“I’m proud of you. Keep it up.”
It had a big 7/7 on it with big red marker. And a gold star. And a big sticker of Bad Cat saying, “You are purrrrrrfect!”
“Thank you, Ms. Lasko!”
Christopher smiled so big, he couldn’t contain himself. He couldn’t even wait for Movie Friday. When his mother pulled up into the parking lot, she waved. And Christopher waved back with the paper in his hand.
“What’s with you?” she asked. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
And that’s when Christopher handed her the test.
“What is this?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything. She opened it up. And read it. And stopped. Quiet. His first perfect. 7 out of 7. She studied the test again for a private moment, then she turned to Christopher. Her eyes had a look of pride instead of worry.
“See! I told you you would get it!” she said.
That’s when he showed her his Treasure Island book.
“I’m on chapter three,” he said.
She was so proud, she let out a shout and hugged him.
“This is what happens to people who don’t give up,” she said.
As he predicted, she offered to take him to Bad Cat 3D again.
“No, thanks. Let’s get movies from the library,” he said.
She looked puzzled at first, then relieved. Especially when he said he wasn’t in the mood for McDonald’s or any restaurant food for that matter. He wanted her grilled cheese sandwiches. So, they went to the library and scored with a fresh copy of Bad Cat 2 (“This time it’s purrrrsonal”) and The African Queen for her.
Then, they got groceries at Giant Eagle for their grilled cheese feast. Christopher saw his mom reach into her purse. This was it! He watched as she pulled out the hidden money. Her face crinkled with confusion. She didn’t know where it came from. But she was happy it was there. She was about to put it back in her purse for a rainy day when Christopher stopped her.
“Mom, you should get something for you,” he said.
“No, I’m okay,” she said.
“No, you really should,” he insisted.
He squeezed her hand softly. Like his mom buying tomatoes. She seemed surprised. Christopher was not one for insisting on much. She paused for a moment, then shrugged.
“What the hell,” she told the clerk. “Get me a Sarris pretzel and a lottery ticket.”
The teenage clerk gave her the world’s best chocolate pretzel and a lottery ticket. To honor her son, Christopher’s mom decided to play the answers from his first perfect test. She handed the girl five dollars. She got seventeen cents back. He saw nothing else in her wallet. She looked at a little tin for charity. A child was staring back at her from a refugee camp in the Middle East. She gave the tin seventeen cents, and they left the store with her purse empty.
On the drive home, Christopher saw his mother eye the gas tank. 1/4 full. He was grateful it was Special Ed’s mom’s turn to carpool to CCD, or they might not have made it to payday.
When they got home, the night was quiet and cool. They stood side by side in the kitchenette. Christopher watched his mom drop the grilled cheese onto the hot plate and smiled when the butter sizzled. He listened to the ice cubes clink in the glass as he poured his mom her beer on the rocks. And as always, they planned what to do with their untold riches. Christopher added a sports car in the driveway of their dream house for his mom like Ms. Lasko’s car. For her part, Christopher’s mother was so impressed with his selection of Treasure Island that she pledged she would get him a bookshelf to go with his very own library.
Christopher turned on the television, which filled the motel room with sounds of the evening news. Christopher’s mother was flipping the grilled cheese sandwiches when the sports coverage ended, and it was time for the lottery. She was so focused on cooking, she almost didn’t hear the first number called out.
It was a nine.
Christopher unfolded the TV trays they bought at a garage sale and dragged them in front of the beds. He looked at his math test stuck to the motel mini fridge with a couple of alphabet magnets.
“Mom, would you like—”
She held up her hand to shush him. He got quiet and looked at her. She grabbed his math test from the mini fridge and walked to the television. The lottery balls danced in the glass vacuum. Christopher hadn’t been paying attention.
The second number was 33.
“Mom?” he said.
“Shh,” she said.
She dropped to her knees. Looking at the newsman. Christopher had seen her get two numbers before. That had happened. But now her hands were wringing. The third ball got sucked into the vacuum.
45
“Oh, God,” she said in a whisper.
Christopher had never seen his mother pray in church. But now, she laced her fingers together so tightly, her knuckles turned white. The fourth number got sucked out. And the newsman announced,
19
“Oh, Jesus, please,” she said.
Christopher looked at his perfect test, shaking in her hands. The next answer was 66. His mother had stopped breathing, waiting for the next number to be drawn.