Game of a Lifetime

Page 1

You are a broke college student. Actually, "broke" is an understatement. Your last meal was a packet of ketchup you found next to a trash bin. Not your proudest moment. But it sure did taste like ketchup, alright. Which is better than the ice soup you had for breakfast. In fact, you are so hungry, your stomach is gnawing on your other organs. Even now, it rumbles in protest to your neglect.

Maybe if you had a job, things would be better. But who has time with all the classes and assignments? Your parents only ever rarely send you money because "Back in their day, they did things themselves." Which, neither of your parents even went to college, so you aren't entirely sure what they are referring to. Your mother has been a housewife ever since she was married to your father. Your father is a mechanic. Despite the hefty income he amounts, he counts every single penny. Just your luck. But you are starving. You've been starving for a couple of days now. For dinner last night, you had a nap. Needless to say, times are hard. How are you supposed to focus on assignments when your stomach is trying to escape to go find food on its own?

You tried calling your parents. They haven't been answering. Surely, if they knew just how bad it had become, they would want to help you. If your mother knew you were eating from the trash, she would be floored. Well, let's not be so dramatic. You ate from next to the bin. You weren't yet desperate enough to go digging in there. Yet. But you are getting close. The only other option you think to have is to drive out to them. It is about a two hour drive. If you leave now, you could make it there before dinner time. Even if they don't give you money, that is at least one meal you could eat today. The temptation is definitely there. You don't have much gas. Enough to get you there, perhaps. But you would need to borrow some money to return. Maybe your mother would sneak you some. She was always the softer one you could work with. The question also being if they would be happy to see you or not. To show up without warning? But another growl from your stomach sends a nauseous wave through you, and you think you may throw up. You have to go.

You sluggishly climb into your old beat-up Honda civic. You are dreading the long drive, while at the same time, you can almost smell your mother's fresh home cooked meal. It is enough to break the chains of any doubts that were keeping you in place. You start up the engine. Or at least you try. It grinds and revs a bit. You try again. Putters. What else can you do but beg whatever god is above while you turn the key one more time. Finally, it takes off. "That's a good civic." You pet the steering wheel, "atta girl, Sheila, you can make it!" You start your journey.

A burning smell and the wind flow through your disheveled hair from your open window. You aren't even sure you brushed it today. What can you say? It has been a rough one. Maybe that would gain you some amount of sympathy points with your mother. Right now, you are desperate, and it shows. You have already been driving for an hour, and your stomach is not getting any quieter. You have been trying to call your mother as you make your way down a long and empty highway. Endless miles of nothing stretch out all around you. The only thing you keep seeing is signs counting down your approach toward a casino. In fact, you haven't even passed another car.

The drive feels even longer without a radio. Just last week, your civic was broken into. The reason you have the window down now is just to even out the pressure from your duct tape passenger window. Also, the wind keeps you awake for the most part. You can't take any risks of dozing off behind the wheel. You clearly don't have the best of luck. Speaking of luck, your car begins to putter even now. It jerks hard enough for you to rock in your seat. "No!" You hit the steering wheel. "Come on, come on!" The car very obviously begins to stall and slow down. You have no choice but to put on your hazards and come to a pitiful puttering stop on the side of the road.

"Dang it, Sheila!" You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. Okay, you definitely didn't brush it today. Glad that is one mystery solved. You grab your phone to call your parents again. But your luck comes into play once more. No signal. You clench your fists and throw a tiny tantrum in the moment. This can not be happening right now.