You May Already Be a Winner Read online

  DIAL BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  Copyright © 2017 by Ann Dee Ellis

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Ebook ISBN: 9781101993873

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Ellis, Ann Dee, author.

  Title: You may already be a winner / Ann Dee Ellis.

  Description: New York, NY : Dial Books for Young Readers, [2017] | Summary:

  Twelve-year-old Olivia endeavors to care for her younger sister, possibly make a new friend in the quirky and secretive Bart, and keep hope alive for her, her family, and her community of idiosyncratic neighbors at Sunny Pines Trailer Park.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016032501 | ISBN 9781101993859 (hardcover)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Parent and child—Fiction. | Sisters—Fiction. | Trailer camps—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.E4582 Yo 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016032501

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Jacket design by Theresa Evangelista

  Jacket art © 2017 by Jia Guo

  Version_1

  To my brave Milo, full of light, heart, and imagination

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  One day I sunk to the bottom of the pool and died.

  People were screaming and a boy named Troy jumped in and even though he was a lifeguard and he had a whistle, he was scared.

  Very very scared.

  ~

  He jumped in and I saw him coming and I said, “Too late. I’m already dead.” And he said, nothing. Because he was lugging my body to the surface.

  People screamed. Especially Mom.

  She was saying: “NO! NO! NO! MY BABY!”

  And someone was holding her back because she was trying to jump in with me and Troy, but this would only complicate things.

  Troy tried tried tried to get me over to the side of the pool and there was a crowd, including my old best friend Carlene and her new best friend Bonnie. They were bawling and the other lifeguards were yelling at Troy and he was saying, “I GOT IT!”

  I was flopping around, turning blue, and now my mom was passed out.

  When he finally got me to the deck, his lips were on my lips and he was breathing hard into my lungs. Though I’d never been kissed, my soft mouth molded to his as he tried to breathe life back into my body. During one of the intervals he was surprised to find himself no longer blowing breath into my mouth. But rather I was blowing breath into his.

  “Olivia.

  “Olivia.

  “OLIVIA!”

  I splashed up from the back float, the sound of the water and people and Mom.

  She stood on the deck with her hand on her hip, her Naturalizer shoes, and her horrible Merry Maids uniform.

  Everyone stared at her.

  “What is wrong with you? Get your sister and get out. We’re leaving.”

  A man with a snake tattoo on his neck gave me a sorry look and I gave him a none-of-your-business look, and Mom said, “Did you hear me?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Where is she?” Mom said.

  “She’s right . . .”

  I looked around. She was here. She was just here. Playing with a little boy in the shark shorts.

  “Where is she, Olivia?”

  “Hang on,” I said.

  The pirate ship was swarming with kids but no pink swimsuit.

  My heart fluttered. I never lost her. Ever.

  I swam to the side.

  Nowhere.

  The other side.

  Panic now.

  “Olivia,” Mom said.

  Then a lady in a bikini said to me, “She’s over there.”

  At the corner of the pool stood my baby sister in her pigtails and chubby bum, talking to a man. A very big man with a big belly and a big beard, crouching down next to her.

  Mom probably saw it at the same time because she let out a shriek.

  And even though it was okay, eve
n though his name was Kyle and he worked for the DMV and he was trying to help Berkeley find me, even though all those things, I got grounded for a week.

  ............

  Dear Dad,

  I have a boyfriend named Troy. He’s a lifeguard. I think you’d like him.

  Mom thinks he’s really nice and we might have him over for dinner. I wish you could meet him.

  Love,

  Liv

  P.S. Mom grounded me for no reason.

  ............

  Today forty-six people in New Jersey won the lottery.

  They were going to split a 324-million-dollar pot and they are so happy! One lady was homeless! One man was home from Afghanistan and now he doesn’t have to go back! One person was already rich but now she’s richer!

  Mom said, “Olivia. Get off the computer and get your sister dressed.”

  I stared at the screen. Three hundred and twenty-four divided by forty-six was around seven million. What if I won seven million? Mom could quit her job and I could buy my own phone and Berkeley could have all the Beanie Babies she wanted and we could live in a real house.

  Maybe even Dad would come back.

  Maybe all we needed was seven million dollars.

  “Olivia. Do you hear my voice?” she said.

  I looked at her. “What?”

  “Get your sister dressed.”

  Today I was going to enter at least ten contests. That was my goal. I always enter the HGTV Dream House Giveaway and the Publishers Clearing House and then a few more regulars. But today I was going to find better ones. New ones.

  My favorite part of entering was when the contest said this one thing: You May Already Be a Winner. It made me think that somewhere, probably somewhere fancy like New York City or Paris, someone was holding a big old suitcase of cash with my name all typed in gold. Or maybe on a tropical island where it never snowed and where the air smelled like coconuts was a house that was made especially for me, decorated in green and purple, my favorite colors. Or even there could be a lifetime supply of Twix bars just waiting in the UPS truck.

  “Olivia,” Mom said again.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Mom’s sister, Susan, who has money and lives in Wisconsin and who I have only seen twice, sent us the computer. It is my best thing. The only person who maybe loved it more than me was Dad who spent so many hours on it at night that he and Mom would get in fights.

  But he’s gone.

  “Now!” Mom said, and I turned it off.

  Berkeley was watching Sesame Street and coughing.

  “Berk. Cover your mouth,” Mom said. She grabbed her keys and her Diet Coke and she said to me, “Maybe you should stay home again. The day care is being jerks about the cough.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Every morning Mom did this.

  She would say Berk isn’t going to day care because of a cough, or because Berkeley had a long night, or because Mom was running late, but really, Berkeley hadn’t been to day care for weeks and I hadn’t been to school in just as long.

  Then she said, “But both of you need to get dressed. We’re not barbarians.”

  I nodded.

  “No computer. And turn out all the lights. The electricity bill was insane last month and no library.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  We used to hang out at the library.

  Then they asked why we weren’t in school.

  So we can’t go anymore.

  Mom went out the door and she got in the Pontiac and I yelled, “Mom.”

  And she says, “What?”

  And I say, “Does Utah have a lottery?”

  And she rolled her eyes and shut the car door. Roared down the road and almost hit the SLOW DOWN sign.

  ~

  Ten minutes later I watched Carlene and her cousin Lala walk to school.

  I don’t walk to school with Carlene anymore, which means I don’t eat lunch with her, which also means I don’t really know what’s going on, like who likes who or who wore what or who got suspended or who is cool and who isn’t.

  Also, now I’m not Carlene’s best friend anymore.

  ............

  Dear Dad,

  Hey! There is a new restaurant that everyone is talking about. It is called WaffleLove. They have waffles there. I have never had one yet because I’m waiting for you. Do you think you’ll come? They are five dollars each but you can get all kinds of toppings. Carlene told me about it. She’s had sixteen of them since they opened.

  The Carters are gone but their trampoline is still there. The dad got arrested by the cops and then Tammy and the kids moved out in the middle of the night but they left the tramp! So Berk and I sort of took it over. I can do a front flip.

  Love, Olivia

  P.S. How long are you going to be gone?

  ............

  My dad is thirty.

  My mom is thirty.

  I am twelve but pretty much almost thirteen.

  Thirty Thirty Thirteen. 30 30 13.

  First I drew the numbers.

  Then I colored them.

  Then I showed them to Berk. I said, “Look: Thirty Thirty Thirteen.”

  She glanced over from her dolls.

  She said, “So?”

  “It’s a lucky year,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  I told her how the number three is perfect because it’s like a triangle—a number for each corner and how me and Mom and Dad would all have threes in our ages this year. And how Mom and Dad had me when they were seventeen and seventeen minus three is fourteen and we lived at 14 Sunny Pines Lane and in six months I would be turning thirteen and six divided by two is three.

  She stared at me. “So?”

  “So do you see all the threes? It’s lucky,” I said.

  “Luck isn’t real,” she said, playing with her dolls again.

  Luck isn’t real. Dad used to say this. Luck isn’t real. You make your own lot in life.

  But he was wrong and Berk was wrong.

  “Berkeley,” I said, “look at me.”

  She glanced over. “What?”

  “Luck is real.”

  She shrugged.

  ~

  Luck IS real.

  ~

  I entered fifteen contests that day.

  Every morning after Mom leaves I do these things:

  Enter at least ten contests but usually way more

  Make my bed and make Berkeley make hers

  Put away the dishes from last night

  Exercise

  Fifteen push-ups. The boy ones.

  Thirty sit-ups and I make sure to keep my lower back on the floor, because Jillian Michaels says that if you don’t have good form, don’t do it at all.

  I once entered her personal training sweepstakes. She sends me emails and texts every day even though I don’t have a phone so I put in a fake phone number. Maybe someone in Texas or somewhere is getting fitness texts from Jillian Michaels.

  Twenty-five squats and twelve lunges on each leg.

  Berkeley watches from the couch and lets me know if I have bad form.

  She says, “You aren’t doing them right.”

  And so then I do them lower.

  Then I do plank. I’ve gone two minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

  After I exercise we go outside. We always try to make it out there by nine thirty because that’s when Delilah gets her lunch hour from her early morning shift at Shirley’s Bakery. Delilah is old like a grandma and has big round cheeks and bright red hair and a roly-poly body. She likes to hug you so warm, it feels better than a fleece blanket.

  She lives alone at the opposite corner of the trailer park from us.

  Sometimes Mom goes over there and she
and Delilah watch shows together. Sometimes we go over, too. My favorites to watch are Iron Chef and Fixer Upper.

  So every morning we try to get out there by the time Delilah comes home because if we’re lucky, she brings us the leftover cinnamon rolls or raspberry danishes or one time she brought us an entire loaf of pull-apart orange bread that me and Berk ate so fast, I had to lie down afterward.

  “Go easy,” Delilah always says, because she’s seen me and Berkeley eat.

  And we always say, “We will.”

  And then she says, “Wake me up if you need anything.”

  And we say, “We will.”

  And then she winks and drives on down to her trailer and goes to sleep for an hour before she heads back to the bakery.

  Then me and Berk, we go out to the trampoline and start school. I use books from the library and I make Berkeley take the workbooks Mom gets for her at garage sales. Berkeley’s ahead for her age. She missed the kindergarten deadline by four days and can already read chapter books. Dad always said she was smarter than him.

  ~

  So we both read and do workbooks.

  Then we have art.

  I found lots of ideas on Pinterest:

  Chalk animals

  Chalk body outlines

  Chalk outline of shadows

  Chalk hopscotch

  Painting on paper

  Painting rocks

  Painting fabric (only if it’s already stained)

  Coloring by number

  Coloring in coloring books

  Coloring pictures for Dad

  Hearts

  Cornstarch and water

  ~

  Art is Berkeley’s favorite time of day.

  Then we eat lunch.

  Then we take a nap on the tramp for quiet time.

  Then we go for a walk and see if Randy, who is in charge of the neighborhood, is in his trailer. Sometimes he’ll pay us to pick up litter and then we can go buy candy at the pharmacy down the road. If he’s not around, we sometimes spy on Melody, who is married to a man named Harry.

  ~

  Melody has long blond hair and big blue eyes and lots and lots of lipstick and she’s so sophisticated she doesn’t belong here.

  Neither does Harry, who wasn’t so good looking but he was tall and wore ironed shirts.

  But they lived here anyway and put up Christmas lights in July and had parties with people in tight jeans, and they are happy, except sometimes they scream at each other in the middle of the night and Harry leaves for a few weeks but he always comes back.