Read Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery for Free Online Page B

earlier – the café was one of Dad’s best customers.
    â€˜Too right it is. Breakfast’s on you forever.’
    â€˜Who says?’
    â€˜I say. I bought the ticket, after all. I’m your manager.’
    â€˜Err . . . who said I need a manager?’
    â€˜I did. Buyer of the ticket.’
    â€˜Jack. You couldn’t manage a bus queue.’
    â€˜I’m the captain of the A team, Lia. Proof of my leadership potential.’
    â€˜The A team that lost to the B team two weeks ago,’ I pointed out. He stuck his tongue out at me.
    â€˜Told you it was a good present,’ he said.
    â€˜You didn’t know it was going to be worth eight million! You were buying me the world’s meanest birthday present.’
    â€˜God. Typical. I buy you a present worth eight sodding million pounds and you’re still not satisfied.
And
I said I was going to get you a DVD. Won’t bother now. Huh.
Women
.’
    â€˜Jack! What are you
like
?’
    He bit into his fried egg, and yolk exploded over his chin. We were still laughing when I spotted a skinny, dark-haired guy standing by the counter, studying the takeaway menu. Argh! Raf!
    I rushed up to the counter, supposedly to find serviettes for Jack, but actually – ‘Oh! Wow! Hi Raf. Fancy seeing you in here. I thought you had a café of your own.’
    Raf looked terrible. Huge dark shadows under his eyes. His hand, as he picked up his latte to go, shook slightly.
    â€˜Hey Lia,’ he said. ‘Ummm. I . . . errr. . .’
    â€˜Come and sit with us,’ I said.
    â€˜Oh.’ Awkward silence.
    â€˜That’ll be fifty pence extra if you’re having it in,’ said Janice, the café manager.
    Raf looked as thrown as if she’d asked him for fifty thousand pounds. He dug deep into his pockets.
    â€˜Here you go,’ I said, tossing a coin to Janice. I knew she’d catch it because she plays netball with my mum. Bit sad, really, middle-aged women playing a game they should have grown out of when they were my age, but my mum didn’t really get why I thought she should do aqua aerobics, or badminton,or something else a bit more age-appropriate.
    Raf followed me to our table. ‘Look who’s here,’ I said.
    â€˜Who?’ Jack was busily buttering toast.
    â€˜Raf, you know Raf. From my Science group.’
    The air seemed to congeal, like the egg on Jack’s chin.
    â€˜Oh yes,’ said Jack, narrowing his eyes. ‘We’ve met.’ He put on a posh accent. ‘Hello
Rafe
.’
    I chucked him a wodge of serviettes. ‘It’s not Rafe. It’s Raf. Grow up.’
    â€˜It was a goal,’ said Raf. ‘You know it was.’
    â€˜Should’ve been a red card.’
    â€˜The referee’s decision is final.’
    â€˜Cheat.’
    â€˜Bad loser.’
    â€˜Thug. I saw Olly’s leg after you crashed into him. Call that a tackle? Maybe you thought we were playing
rugger
.’
    I flapped my hands at them.
    â€˜Shut up! I’ve won the lottery! That’s more important than football.’
    â€˜That depends,’ said Jack, ‘whether you’re talking about a decision that was downright daylight robbery.’
    Raf shrugged. ‘We still won.’
    I gave up, finished my croissant, drained my mug.
    â€˜I am going to go and spend large amounts of money,’ I said, although I wasn’t quite sure where this money was going to materialise from.
    â€˜Wanker,’ said Jack. ‘Posh twit.’
    Raf just sneered.
    â€˜And then I am going to investigate holidays for after GCSEs. Ibiza, I thought. Or Crete. I thought a group of us could go. I would like to invite both of you. But I can’t do that if you’re going to fight all the time.’
    That shut them up. Raf had a strange look in his eyes. As though he was trying to focus on something small, a long way away.
    â€˜Crete is nice,’ he said, softly.