Chester's pulse raced as he glanced at his watch then at his bedroom door. He could hear his mother entertaining out in the small living area and knew her company would only become wilder as the night progressed.

Vanyla... her name wrapped around Chester's brain and refused to slip its hold on the emotions she provoked in his head and heart. He could smell coconut in the air and see her smiling green eyes and nearly taste those pink lips. Would she let Chester kiss her if he stopped being an asshole? What if Van didn't show in the courtyard and he was stuck looking like a fool?

Stop being a pussy, Chester chided himself with a shake of his head, Van will be there and I need to get out of this fucking trailer before mother gets so drunk she has no idea which dick she's groping for. He opened the door and stepped into the small hallway just as a man came into it, laughing and exclaiming he had to piss before he showed Chester's mother something she'd never seen before.

Disgusted, Chester avoided looking or talking to anyone as he made towards the front door. His mother called his name repeatedly until he was forced to stop, his hand on the doorknob.

"Look at you!" Her dull brown eyes swept over his best pressed blue shirt and blue jeans that he found were too short above his scuffed shoes, "Why the hell do you look like that? Where are you going?"

Chester jutted out his chin, "Don't worry about it."

Marla stood on drunken legs, her friends looking on as she pointed a fat finger in his direction, "I told you I have a feeling about winning the lottery this year and you're leaving?"

Chester licked his lips and tapped his hand on the doorknob, "I'm going to the courtyard to watch on the TV. Don't you want me to watch in case you win? How else will you know?"

Marla rolled her eyes, sat back down and brushed her hand over her red nose, "Yeah, alright. Don't get any ideas about running off in case I win. I'll need your scrawny ass to haul shit."

"He's so skinny," said the man coming back into the room, still buckling his belt, "You don't need him around honey when you have a man like me. Chester looks like he couldn't even boost a pair of shoes."

The two other women in the room, longtime drinking buddies of his mother, burst into a fit of giggles. Chester hated them. They were spinster sisters that never had money, begging Chester for food all the time because they spent it all on the alcohol his neighborhood was drowning in. Couldn't get a good cut of beef, but a carton of Jack? You betcha.

"Where's your family tonight?" Chester bit out, realizing he knew the man from collecting garbage in the food district. His name was Kyle and he had a young son with a shy lady that sold vegetables from the neighborhood gardens. The vegetables were shit because no one really cared to grow them the right way but it was better than nothing.

Kyle smirked and sat beside Marla, "How should I know? Pick us up a carton of whiskey when you come back."

Chester didn't bother responding, seeing his out. Quickly he exited the trailer and slammed the door. He knew people placed in neighborhoods were done so on their DNA profile, but he couldn't have come back so horrendous that the government saw him as he did others like Kyle and the Wasted Sisters.

Chester took a look around as he made for the shitty courtyard near the neighborhood commissary. Either most were still in the city or had holed up for the night because he didn't see many people. There was quite a ruckus, he noted, coming from the courtyard though.

Standing, holding two cartons of drink, Van was easy to spot when he entered the yard. Weeds had taken over, and the old benches and tables had long ago succumbed to the harsh sun but Chester took one look at Van, still wearing her tank top, but with a light blue short-sleeve cover, and thought the setting only made her more beautiful than he wanted to admit. Why was she always smiling?

"Hey, Chet!" Van smile grew when he stopped in front of her, "I bought you a beer. Can't watch the idiot that wins without one!"

Van tried to pass the carton to him, but he kept his hands at his sides, "I don't drink. Why waste your money on me?"

Her green eyes fell to the drinks, "I was just trying to be nice. Well, now I can get a proper buzz. Come on, it's almost eleven."

Chester fell in step behind her as she led the way to the brick wall that served as a screen for the projection of the show. He was surprised to see a circle of men around Fred March. He hadn't realized March attended the viewings but why wouldn't he? This was the only place to watch besides the city for the head council of their neighborhood.

Van and Chester stood off to the side as their neighbors milled around getting drunk and throwing curses March's way. To say he was a horrible leader of their neighborhood was an understatement.

"I hate these cartons," Van muttered, opening her beer, "My mom has glass bottles she kept from the old days and when we have dinners, she'll fill them with whatever we drink."

Chester crossed his arms, avoiding her eyes as he said, "Glass is bad for the environment. Biodegradable containers are supposed to be good but I hate them. What I miss is meat. At work, I have no idea if the meat is real because it all comes in those damn things."

Van giggled and Chester saw several men look her way. She was new, and no one laughed anymore without intent. The men's tired eyes widened with interest so Chester turned to block their view of her tiny frame. He gazed down at her with a frown.

"What is it?" She shook her head then shrugged, "You're so odd but I like that. Everyone walks around like in some personal fog but not you Chet. You have a way about you I liked right off the bat."

Chester straightened and felt the need to shut her down. He didn't want to be different. Amy and her cohorts had called him a freak for years and no matter how he acted, he never fit in. His frown turned into a scowl as she drank the whole beer in three gulps.

"How often do you drink?" He couldn't abide to get involved with an alcoholic since he already had his hands full with his shitty mother. "How old are you?"

Van giggled again then crushed the thin carton into a ball with one hand, "I'm old enough to know if you keep up this defensive, disapproving act I'll be forced to call you dad."

Chester fought a smile as she opened the second beer, "Don't friends ask questions?"

Van's green eyes roamed over his body and he became self-conscious, shuffling foot to foot. Why did she make his heart beat faster every time she smiled or laughed? No other woman had affected him like this before. She was tiny and odd, wearing either too big or too tight clothing. Then there was the way she thought about their plight in the world as if just saying it aloud could make a difference. Van was the oddest woman he'd ever met and wanted to walk away and make her his at the same time.

"Yes," she said, meeting his stare, "Friends ask questions and I'll tell you this Chet, no matter what, I'll be there for you."

Chester screwed up his face to ask what the hell that meant when the crowd whooped as the wall lit up with the Wayfarer City logo. Van downed the last of her beer, tossed the trash away, then shoved Chester into the crowd, closer to the front than he would have liked to be.

The Mayor, Susan Potter, came on screen talking about unity and a bunch of bullshit Chester didn't pay attention to. Standing next to Van as the crowd became silent at last, he saw her inch closer to him.

"This year's lottery falls on Halloween," Mayor Potter spoke in a tone that was gleeful, "We've been preparing our great city for the fun time to be had for our beloved children and I implore this year's winner to think of their safety as a favor to the betterment of our society."

Chester let out a bark of laughter, causing others glare and step away from him. Good, he hated crowds and folded his arms in defiance. Betterment of society? Teaching children they were nothing but what their DNA said, setting a path of who they were through menial labor or science experiments that would, in turn, make them shitty adults made Chester's blood pressure rise.

"Hey," Van touched his folded arms, "Are you alright?"

Chester shook Van off, ignoring the surprise that flashed across her face, "Oh yes, Van, I'm perfectly fine with being here listening to this fucking bullshit."

With that Chester turned to leave, mortified he had let his emotions get the best of him. He should have stuck to his routine of sleeping the lottery away. Instead, he had let his guard down for what? Van didn't know anything besides drinking and smiling with teeth.

"We will now have Governor Spell retrieve the winning scroll," Potter turned with a flourish, the camera revealing the massive lottery bowl coming to a stop as its half-hour rotation ended.

"Chester wait!" Van chased after him, "I'm sorry, I should have taken the hint by now you don't like to be touched. Just hang out a little more with me, please?"

Chester turned, and she ran into him. He reached out and took her by the shoulders to steady her small body. Her green eyes widened when he ran his hands down to her forearms.

"It's not you," he admitted, "My mind is dark tonight. You were right, I don't talk to people much because more often than not, I'm treated like shit. Especially by women."

Van's smile returned and her small hands lifted to touch his chest, "Oh Chet, I know how hard it is to make friends in a society like ours, but you can know I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay to have bad days, we all have them."

He smiled at her, "How about bad years?"

"The winner of the yearly lottery in the state of Ozark, October 31, in the year 2024, is Chester Drivel of the Neighborhood March!" Mayor Spell read off then turned to the camera, "Congratulations Mr. Drivel and we look forward to watching."

Chester couldn't breathe. Couldn't even think as Van shook him, saying he had won.

He won the fucking lottery!

"You need to get to the checkpoint," Van took his shaking hand and pulled them through the crowd, "You need to hurry!"

Chester heard his name being called as others realized who he was. Councilman March was the loudest but Van propelled them forward.

He was a winner and had no idea what to do. Had his life gone from a total shit show to happy hunting ground in a day? Anger and euphoria battled within as Chester concluded he needed an accessory to get through the next 24 hours.

"Come with me," Chester held her hand tighter, "I want you to stay by my side Van. I can not do this alone."

Van smirked and nodded, "I already told you Chet, no matter what, I'll be here for you."

Chester and Van broke into a jog, heading towards the checkpoint where a helicopter would be waiting to make Chester a 24-hour superstar.

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J.M.