Lottery

Margaret crossed her arms, standing her ground.

"Then maybe you could just kick me out!" she retaliated.

In that moment, her stepfather Darrel came into the fray and urged, "Can we all take a breath? Margaret, let's talk about this. It's just hair."

But as Darrel attempted to de-escalate the matter, Margaret felt suffocated by the impending conflict.

"You're not my dad!" she screamed. "You don't get to decide what I do with my life!"

The moment the words left her mouth, she saw the hurt on Darrel's face and the anger that was soon to erupt from her mother.

"That's it!" her mother yelled.

"Honey, wait," he said quietly, hoping not to escalate things. "We're all in this together…"

"No!" her mother argued. "That was my last straw."

Margaret still hadn't let down. She began to scream the more as the other two began to retaliate with shouts of their own—accusations and misunderstandings fueling the fire that had already ignited between them.

Desperate for an escape, Margaret turned and retreated into her room. There, she paced back and forth as if the walls were closing in on her. Heart pounding, she hastily began to pack her belongings—the essentials she'd need if she were to leave.

She was tired of it all, tired of being subjected to others' rules.

As she stuffed her clothes into her bag, she recognized the irony of walking away from her home on what was meant to be a day of celebration. Outside, she felt like she was running, but this was more than just a physical escape; it was a severing of ties she had yet to fully comprehend.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she slipped out of the house, not even bothering to make another announcement.

There, she quickly dialed her friend's number.

"Hey, where are you?" her friend's voice bubbled through the line.

"Can you come pick me up? Please?" Margaret's voice quivered with desperation.

"On my way. I'll be there in ten!"

It wasn't a move that Margaret had wanted to make. Most children who run away from home don't tend to be successful. Yet she wasn't without a plan.

She stood outside on the pavement and let the cool air whip around her. It was terrifying and a little daunting—freedom from her mother.

As her friend's car pulled up, Margaret forced a smile, but it felt a little empty. It didn't take her long to explain the situation.

"Some birthday, huh?" her friend playfully said, trying to lift the mood as they hugged briefly.

There was a sense of warmth in their friendship that only those closest to her could provide.

"Where ya gonna go?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I can't stay with you; my mom would know instantly." Margaret sighed at her limited options after slipping into the car and driving off. "The only place left is dad's house."

"Wow, the land of no Wi-Fi," her friend teased. "How do you think you're gonna survive that?"

Margaret grimaced at the humor in hitting too close to home. It was a good attempt at her friend trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Margaret herself expressed her frustration and fear about visiting her father's house, which she believed would be a stifling and unenjoyable experience due to its lack of internet. The most she would get there is a little bit more freedom.

Her friend tried to alleviate her anxiety with a light-hearted perspective, suggesting that she could use the time to indulge in her passion for comics, anime, and board games, despite Margaret's sarcastic retorts about feeling like a prisoner.

As her friend continued to encourage her by framing this move as an opportunity for self-discovery, Margaret gradually shifted from despair to a sense of determination, recognizing that this change might be a catalyst for exploring what she's to do to herself.

The two arrived at her father's house. She no longer felt stressed about things.

"Thanks for being here for me," she said, stepping out of the car. "It really means a lot."

"Always," her friend replied, pulling Margaret into one last hug.

Some time passed after these events. Margaret landed a decent-paying job that allowed her to balance her work and education. She enrolled in a community college with the goal of earning enough credits to transfer to a better college and eventually earn her bachelor's degree.

Things were challenging at first, but she was driven by the desire not to fall back.

And despite the progress she had made, Margaret's relationship with her mom remained strained. They hadn't spoken since she left home, and while it was a difficult situation, Margaret didn't regret it.

She had always been a strong-willed individual, refusing to back down from her convictions. Those who knew her understood that beneath that nature was a ticking time bomb ready to explode when her beliefs were threatened.

Margaret's worldview was shaped by the things she saw and experienced, particularly through her favorite anime series. Shows like Tokyo Revengers, One Punch Man, and Psycho-Pass had left an indelible mark on her mentality.

She admired the complex characters, the moral ambiguities, and the exploration of societal themes. These series had become more than just entertainment; they had become a reflection of her values and principles.

However, not everyone shared her passion or agreed with her perspectives.

Margaret had encountered her fair share of detractors, individuals who would criticize her beloved anime shows without fully understanding their depth.

She recalled a heated discussion about the latest Dragon Ball Super episode, where someone had mocked the "Ultra Instinct" transformation, calling it lame. Margaret had stepped in and called out the person for their lack of taste.

That was despite not having known the individual.

The exchange with both parties was nothing short of an argument. While some might have seen her behavior as aggressive or confrontational, she perceived it as a necessary stance. She believed that if someone was going to disparage something she held dear, they should be prepared to back up their claims with substance.

Margaret's friend had come to respect her passion, even if she didn't always agree with her opinions. She knew that beneath her tough exterior lay a rich inner world, shaped by the stories and characters that inspired her.

That same friend also had shared her enthusiasm for anime and comics. Even after the running-away scene, they would still spend hours discussing the latest episodes, debating plot twists, and analyzing character developments.

These conversations became a source of comfort and validation, reminding Margaret that she was not alone in her passions.

By the time she found an apartment to share with her friend, she had crafted a sanctuary that reflected her geeky affinity. It was a modest two-bedroom place not far from the community college, and splitting the rent made it financially manageable.

They each brought their own quirks to the apartment, but Margaret's corner quickly transformed into a shrine to all things anime.

She did what most anime enthusiasts did when they settled into their own space: she squandered her savings on Funko Pops, a glass case to display her collection, and a myriad of vintage DVDs featuring series she had grown up watching.

The shelves overflowed with comic books from various genres, and she relished every moment in her own little world. The worst part about it, however, was the nagging realization that she rarely touched these items after they were bought.

Unboxing figurines of Kirito from Sword Art Online and propping them next to her framed prints of Attack on Titan didn't quite help with her expenses. For instance, what would a teenage girl honestly need a giant replica of Ichigo Kurosaki's sword for?

One evening, after finishing a late-night binge-watch of the latest Boruto movie, her friend's phone buzzed incessantly on the coffee table.

"Hey, check this out, Marge. The CEO of Elysium just posted this insane news. They're hosting a lottery for a grand VR experiment. We can sign up for free!"

Margaret shrugged and asked, "Why would a billionaire mogul turn something as virtual reality into a lottery game? No, thanks. I'm not interested."

Margaret had never been one for lotteries—something about the randomness of it all and the gambling aspect turned her off completely.

Her friend rolled her eyes and said, "Come on! This could be huge! Virtual reality! Think about it! You might even get to beta-test something that hasn't even been released yet!"

Margaret laughed, shaking her head as she said, "I'd rather spend my time actually watching anime."

But her friend had other plans. The next day, while Margaret, wrapped in her favorite hoodie, was busy rifling through the latest issue of her beloved comic series, her friend had secretly taken matters into her own hands and signed them up for the lottery without mentioning it.

"Oi, did you really put my name down?!" Margaret had warned.

"Maybe…! Ha-ha."

And with that, she had forgotten all about it.

The following week, however, was when the unexpected twist of fate struck. Her friend had burst through the door and announced, "Marge, you'll never believe it! You won! You're on the list! You won!"

Margaret paused mid-sip of her soda, nearly choking on it. "Wait, what?" Could it be true? She grabbed the phone, squinting at the screen as if it would somehow change the outcome. But there it was—her name in big, bold letters: Margaret Campbell.

The absurdity of the thought made them both giggle for almost half an hour.

"Let's celebrate!" her friend declared, grabbing her own phone and scrolling through their favorite takeout apps.

Margaret also craved something—anything—a celebration meal of sorts. "Pizza, wings, and those mochi desserts I love. And don't forget the boba!"

So amidst the laughter and cheerful banter, they celebrated the unexpected victory. Margaret was going on a wild adventure that, without a doubt, was going to be (at least rumored) the talk of the tech community.

If nothing else, it would provide her with some lighthearted moments to share online and an amusing story, something to boast about to her mother on how she made something of herself.

As the days went by, the moment Margaret had been waiting for finally came. She could hardly believe that she was going to Elysium's headquarters, the gateway to an adventure that promised to be anything but ordinary.

She didn't live in California, so a plane had been ordered for her. Not bad for a free two-hour flight with all expenses paid for.

A sleek black car awaited her, and after a ride through the city, she arrived at the impressive building.

Upon entering Elysium's headquarters, she was quickly ushered into a bright, modern reception area where she was met by Dr. Kapoor, a distinguished-looking Indian woman with a welcoming smile, dressed in a crisp white lab coat.

"Ah, you must be Ms. Margaret Campbell!" Dr. Kapoor said, extending her hand in greeting. It's wonderful to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Margaret replied, shaking her hand firmly.

"Oh my!" Dr. Kapoor laughed. "Quite the firm grip for such a young girl. Anyways, Mrs. Campbell, you're the third person to have arrived for this opportunity."

Who were the other two winners? Were they just as eager? Better yet, why hadn't she thought this could turn into a competition?

"Right this way," Dr. Kapoor said, guiding Margaret through the hallways.

She silently observed the surroundings as they walked, impressed by the innovative designs. When they reached the waiting room, the doctor left, and Margaret saw the two others present.

One was a nerdy-looking man in his thirties with unkempt facial hair, giving off a vibe that suggested he had just emerged from a gaming marathon. The other was a cute blonde with a smile that seemed to light up the room.

"Hey there! I'm Jada Schmidt," she chirped. She approached Margaret with a welcoming aura that made her feel instantly at ease. "I just have to say, I love your hair!"

Margaret couldn't help but return the smile. A compliment on her red hair was all that she needed. "Thanks! I appreciate that! I really like your style too."

While they pleasantly chatted, Margaret wondered at the man, William Rodriguez, who was sitting cross-legged in a chair, fiddling with his thumb and mumbling something to himself. He looked quite awkward.