Scratching for Survival

The coating peeled away bit by bit. My heart sank with it.

The final row revealed the prize amount. 20 dollars.

My heart died completely.

That meant until next semester when Mom gave me a new book of scratch cards, I only had 20 dollars.

Clutching the winning ticket, I walked out of the dorm, planning to go to the redemption center outside the campus gates to cash it in.

Just as I left the dorm building, my academic advisor's stern voice called from behind me.

"Elena Marshall!"

I turned around. When the advisor, Adam Palmer, saw the scratch card clutched in my hand, the disappointment on his face deepened.

"Someone told me and I didn't believe it. You got in here with top ten scores from your region. How could you get addicted to these schemes and shortcuts?

"Look at your grades now. You're practically failing every single class! You've let me down so much!

"Consider this conversation a warning. If you keep this up, I'll have no choice but to follow school policy and recommend your expulsion!"

I stood there while Mr. Palmer scolded me for several minutes under the scorching sun.

The energy from that bite of cake earlier had nearly run out. I started to sway.

"Elena?"

Mr. Palmer's expression instantly shifted to alarm. "Are you okay?"

After seeing my skeletal hand, he sighed.

"Let me take you to the cafeteria to eat. Stop spending all your meal money on scratch cards from now on. There's no such thing as free money falling from the sky."

I did not refuse Mr. Palmer. After all, right now, whoever gave me a bite to eat was my savior, my lifeline.

Dignity? Pride?

In the face of survival, they were worthless. Because I had no money, I had not bought a single meal from the cafeteria windows all semester.

I had only bought plain rolls and paired them with free water.

Too weak to focus in class, unable to concentrate. To me, the words on the blackboard looked like swimming tadpoles.

My grades had plummeted. My pride had long since shattered.

After wolfing down a full meal, my spirits lifted considerably. My steps were no longer unsteady. Even my mind felt clearer.

After thanking Mr. Palmer, I turned to leave. He frowned. "Where are you going?"

I held up the crumpled winning ticket. "To cash it in. Otherwise... no food."

"Elena Marshall!" Mr. Palmer snapped in frustration. "Did you forget everything I just said that quickly?

"Or are you determined to defy me so you can get expelled? I shouldn't have bought you that meal. You need to go hungry until you understand how serious this is!

"Give me the ticket. Cut your losses now!"

He reached his hand toward me. His tone carried an authority that brooked no argument.

I quickly hid the scratch card behind my back and pleaded. "Sir, I really can't give this to you. I have my reasons."

Mr. Palmer slammed his hand on the table.

"You're beyond help! I'm telling you right now, if you don't hand it over, I'm going back to file an official complaint and put this on your record!"

I lowered my head. My nails dug into my palms.

After an internal struggle, I bowed to him. "I'm sorry. I really can't."

Without waiting to hear what else he might shout at me, I bolted toward the redemption center.

The woman at the redemption counter took the scratch card from my hand. She rolled her eyes.

She muttered under her breath. "Addicted, are we? What a waste of your parents' hard-earned money!"

Bitterness filled my heart.

If I told her this scratch card was the living allowance my own mother gave me, that it was my only source of survival, she would probably find it even more absurd and less believable.

"Cash, check, or I can transfer it to your account?"

The woman asked impatiently.

I pulled out my old phone with its cracked screen, about to give her my account details. A thought struck me.

Suddenly, I did not want to cash it in anymore.

"I'm not cashing it in," I heard myself say. "I want to exchange it for a new one."