Am I ever going to be successful?
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I can’t even say that this is my first attempt. Over the years, I’ve tried a number of ways to make money—selling things on eBay or Craigslist (nothing too big), selling handmade soap at craft fairs and farmers’ markets, making jewelry…even selling lemonade from time to time. But it never seemed like enough. I always came up short, no matter how much effort I put in.
But this time feels different, doesn’t it? The only thing standing between me and a million dollars is two dozen eggs, three chickens, some kitchen scraps, and five hundred square feet of land. If I don’t win this competition, then I’m pretty sure we’re all going to starve.
That’s not how I want to spend the rest of my life. And there must be other people out there who feel the same way; otherwise, why would they have spent their hard-earned cash on such an endeavor?
Maybe I’m being too optimistic. Maybe everyone is just trying to get rich quick. Who knows what these people really think about our situation? After all, we were kind of uninvited guests. We should probably stay under the radar as long as possible.
We had plenty of time to discuss this while walking down the street toward the auction site. I felt better knowing that we’d have a few extra days to prepare for the event. The sun was already setting when we arrived and, despite my insistence that we try to stay hidden, we didn’t manage to hide very well. Not that anyone seemed particularly interested in us anyway. It looked like most people were focused more on the auction than anything else.
“Do you think we’ll do any good?” asked Rylee. “If we have to choose one of those houses, I mean.”
“I hope so,” I replied. “But if not, we’ll still have a couple of days to figure something out. Or maybe we won’t even need to go through with the auction. There are lots of options on the table right now. Let’s see where this takes us.”
It was getting dark by the time we made our way inside. Most of the lights were turned off, but the ones that remained illuminated the rows of chairs set up in front of the podium. A man stood behind the lectern wearing a black tuxedo and carrying a microphone. He introduced himself as Mr. Thurston and said he’d been selected to host the auction because of his extensive knowledge of the property.
He went over the rules before explaining that each home would be available for purchase separately or as part of a package deal. The houses were located within walking distance of the school and we’re conveniently close to town.
“If you’d like to take a look around, please wait until the bidding starts,” Mr. Thurston continued. “Once the auction begins, the homes will be sold based on the highest bid received. All bids must be made in writing. You may use your own paper or write directly on the scrapbook provided.
Once you have submitted your bid, it cannot be changed. If you’d like to withdraw your offer, please leave the room immediately. Anybody caught sneaking back into the bidding after losing their previous bid will forfeit their deposit and be disqualified from future auctions.”
The crowd murmured and whispered to one another as he finished reading the rules. It was obvious that most of them had already decided which house they wanted to buy.
Mr. Thurston cleared his throat and continued, “On behalf of the entire community, I want to thank you for supporting our fundraiser. This year’s winner will be receiving a generous check that will help offset the cost of tuition and provide additional funding for the school.
In fact, every single person participating in today’s auction is a beneficiary, meaning that once somebody wins the top prize, everybody below gets a portion of the proceeds.” His voice trailed off and he smiled while glancing down to read the next paragraph. I guess the brochure he gave us told him exactly what to say to soften us up.
Even though nobody showed the slightest bit of interest in finding my team among hundreds of other attendees, I could feel my face turning red.
Everyone knew that the wealthiest teams took center stage during events like this: celebrities and athletes, rich kids looking to raise money for charities they were passionate about…and of course, Silicon Valley moguls who hadn’t paid taxes on the million dollars they earned last year.
Although some people were obviously worried about feeding their families, most of them were ready to bet everything to increase their bank accounts tenfold, hoping they’d end up millionaires soon.
Thankfully, neither Ryan nor I saw fit to acknowledge our presence and carry us along with their egos as they climbed on a pedestal. Besides, none of the others were trying to keep tabs on our team either, so it wouldn’t serve as proof of cheating if someone ever caught me at it later.
For that reason alone, the odds of me attempting something that stupid decreased significantly with the passing minutes, especially considering that half of these wealthy spectators must’ve stayed here without much sleep because the first thing I noticed was how many of them seemed slightly crazy.
I wondered whether these were normal individuals whose minds ran away with thoughts of becoming fabulously rich, or if they were victims of the insomnia virus. Even with our health condition, I didn’t think we had nearly enough problems sleeping. But perhaps everyone around us suffered from that ailment too.
We did get rather used to staying up late when things got boring…which might’ve happened a lot lately, due to the circumstances of recent times.
To add fuel to the fire, several teams spent their cash quickly and invested in larger homes that they could easily fill with guests. With six bedrooms per place, only two members of the winning team needed to invite anyone—who would all benefit greatly.
While some teams split ways upon discovering what potential buyers really sought in an ideal residence, one group jumped straight into the process after failing to find something better within a short period. I couldn’t remember if I spotted Mr. Halbert amongst these crazy folks; however, it wasn’t unlikely since both the man himself and his wife sat near the edge of the auditorium.
Finally, Mr. Thurston announced the moment had arrived for the opening bid to begin. Everyone left the seats except him and five security personnel positioned strategically throughout the room, watching for fraudsters. On the count of three, he signaled their fellow workers from outside as well. Once Mr. Thurston called out the number “$25K,” he doled out thousands of dollars worth of credit cards one after the other.
None of them mattered more than any other to him whatsoever, although a small fraction stood out simply because of their beautiful color patterns. With each new amount raised, Mr. Thurston urged his employees to work even harder through brief instructions and encouragement:
“Thank you! Keep going!” With so little hesitation being displayed, most bidders eventually felt inclined towards continuing the race, either way.
Still, there appeared to exist at least one individual whose willpower remained strong and refused to stop, yet never showed signs of carrying forward on higher bids. Finally, one elderly man broke through his limit of $100K without any intention of lowering it.
It was time for me to decide before committing to a dangerous path myself. Our opponents certainly weren’t aware of our presence at present but, given what was happening and the money that was flowing out, we risked having to participate no matter the circumstances.
Would I continue relying on hope for salvation instead of taking action? How far did I wish to go with the same probability of achieving a dream come true anyway…?
When the old millionaire finally stopped raising his card over and over again, the bidding reached just under the price tag that featured Ryan’s picture, attracting Mr. Thurston’s attention. At the very last minute, after successfully predicting where his newest investor’s cards would land, he read aloud, “$120K” and signaled a pause.
The moment passed by too fast for me to react and act upon our potential mistake; however, it gave that on-site plenty of time to figure out who I was while confirming once and for all that this party existed to help out good causes regardless of whose image served as decoration above the auctioneer’s head. What next now that the mood turned negative and the staff began heading off to lunch break?!
A single sentence lifted my spirits without fail. “Get your seatbelt, son,” I heard whispered loudly inside Ryan’s ear, followed swiftly by his quiet reply. Then Mr. Thurstone brought the silence back to life through an exciting voice worthy of listening. “This is all the thanks that makes sense.
The generosity shown tonight can truly move mountains. Who said we need to walk?” Just like he predicted, there’d be quite some work required ahead for us, starting today! Yet, from the looks of it, his estimate probably came pretty close to our reality. The rush of success was strong despite everything. Now, as long as nothing goes terribly wrong…
***
During our entire expedition to New Jersey, Dad kept nagging us to buy travel insurance. Mom laughed every single time he suggested it as though he knew less about its specifics than I imagined possible. Of course, I understood why she found it amusing—an irresponsible approach sure wouldn’t benefit anybody associated with her husband’s plan in any shape or form, whether known beforehand or not.
However, sometimes simple logic could mean getting in trouble big time if done in certain scenarios involving danger when traveling abroad. In fact, while Mrs. Miller clearly shared common wisdom of purchasing such a coverage policy prior to departing on an overseas journey, few people seemed to follow the advice in situations like ours right now.
For instance, a careless comment about insurance sounded awkward enough for many individuals to stay silent entirely, which was pretty funny to hear coming out of someone who apparently traveled often and extensively around the globe without any problems at all.
That was exactly the thing—their perfect behavior led me to think this whole endeavor must be safe indeed. The lack of knowledge regarding things they ought to have researched up front caused worries along the way whenever we arrived somewhere, causing us to avoid walking the streets or anything remotely risky outside our hotel rooms for the time being.
When taking the road or trains proved safer for short distances, we stuck to subways due to the intense rain threatening to become an absolute disaster before ever setting foot anywhere else, hoping the weather might spare us that possibility altogether, and ultimately enabling our luggage to remain intact until reaching Philadelphia.
Before the day ended and hours later, we boarded another Amtrak train into city limits whereupon we finally took a risk and got away from our pursuers at last! As soon as the train sped across the East River into downtown Manhattan, everyone dared relax themselves significantly.
By then, we were within view of familiar surroundings: one of three giant buildings gracing the landscape outside Union Square was visible directly in sight at ground level; no longer looking out onto skyscraper landscapes through panoramic windows.
Since most passengers headed down towards Penn Station rather than Grand Central Terminal for destinations further north or south, we decided to jump aboard instead and started working our way around with utmost care lest anyone’s tail happened to come inside these glass walls first.
I didn’t recognize anything aside from a subway stop and occasional tourist shop as the scene of so much chaos only two days ago since everything looked perfectly normal now, but the excitement to learn more about the nature of our search filled the air accordingly.
All doors remained closed leading upstairs or downstairs to prevent passersby from jumping ship during periods when platforms saw no train service whatsoever.
With absolutely no idea what kind of neighborhood awaited us further inland, Ryan made me join him for a brisk walk past the waiting room beyond security personnel to finally reach platform sixteen. If it wasn’t raining still and hailing on top of it—another serious storm making a rare appearance—we gladly sought refuge underneath sheltering yellow roof tiles instead.
The End