Chapter 9: Secrets and Strategies

The morning sun crept through Josh’s window, waking him with a gentle warmth that filled the room. It was Sunday—a day that, for most of his life, had meant quiet mornings and a slower pace. But this Sunday felt different. The plan he’d spent the night mulling over still lingered, full of potential—and full of risks. The lottery idea was bold, but it could also be exactly what his family needed.

I can’t jump into this without a plan, he reminded himself as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. I need to be careful, smart ... maybe even get some help. The thought of involving someone else made his stomach twist, but if he wanted to pull this off, he’d need an adult he could trust completely.

After dressing and heading downstairs, he found his mom sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee, flipping through a grocery store flyer. She looked up as he entered, her face brightening with a gentle smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted him warmly. “You’re up early for a Sunday. Usually, I have to drag you out of bed.”

Josh shrugged, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate she’d set on the table. “Just thought I’d get a head start on the day. Anything you need help with?”

She shook her head, stirring her coffee. “Not this morning. Thought I’d take it easy today, too. You’ve been such a big help this week, I think I can finally relax a little.” She leaned back, her expression softening. “Thank you, Josh. I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Josh’s chest warmed, her words meaning more to him than he could say. “Of course, Mom. I just want to make things easier for you.”

As he took another bite of toast, he glanced out the kitchen window, where he saw Mr. Johnson sitting on his porch with his usual cup of coffee and his Sunday paper. It was a sight as familiar as the sunrise—Mr. Johnson reading on the porch was as much a part of Josh’s Sunday mornings as his mom’s coffee.

Watching him sit there, calm and thoughtful, stirred something in Josh. Could I really trust him with this? he wondered, weighing the risk. If there was anyone who could keep a secret, it was Mr. Johnson, who had always been steady, kind, and understanding.

Finishing his toast, Josh turned back to his mom. “I think I’m gonna go see Mr. Johnson,” he said casually.

“Good idea,” she replied with a nod. “I know he enjoys your company, and he doesn’t get many visitors these days.” She gave him a knowing smile. “And don’t stay too long—I could use a hand with dinner later.”

“Will do,” Josh said, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be back soon.”

As he walked across the street, he took a deep breath, his mind racing with what he might say. By the time he reached Mr. Johnson’s house, he felt a surge of uncertainty. But before he could second-guess himself, Mr. Johnson looked up, his eyes twinkling as he set down his paper.

“Morning, Josh!” he called out, his voice warm and welcoming. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Josh gave a small wave as he walked up to the porch. “Morning, Mr. Johnson. Just thought I’d stop by and see if you needed any help today.”

Mr. Johnson chuckled, patting the empty seat next to him. “Help? You’re spoiling an old man, Josh. I wouldn’t want to keep you working on a fine Sunday morning. Come on, sit down. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Josh took a seat, looking out over Mr. Johnson’s yard, which was neat and tidy from his last round of work. “I guess I wanted to ask you something,” he started, his tone cautious. “You know ... about big plans. Like, things you dream of doing but that maybe seem a little ... impossible.”

Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, I see. Big plans, huh?” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at Josh with a smile. “Well, I think about big dreams all the time. Keeps the mind young. What kind of big plans are we talking about?”

Josh hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just ... sometimes I wonder if I could make things better, you know? Like, for my family. Something big that could really change things.” He paused, trying to gauge Mr. Johnson’s reaction. “But I’m not sure if it’s possible, or if it’s just ... I don’t know, wishful thinking.”

Mr. Johnson nodded, his gaze softening. “Well, Josh, wishing for something isn’t the same as having a plan. But sometimes, a little bit of wishful thinking can be the spark that starts something real.” He gave Josh a thoughtful look. “If you believe it’s possible, and you’re willing to put in the effort, there’s no telling what you might be able to do.”

Josh nodded slowly, feeling both encouraged and uncertain. “I was thinking ... if I had a way to help, but needed someone I could trust, do you think ... you’d be willing to help?” The question came out cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Johnson looked at him closely, the hint of a smile on his face. “Well, that depends on what kind of help you’re talking about, doesn’t it?” He leaned in a little, his voice gentle. “I’d help you with anything I could, Josh. You know that. But some things require a lot of thought—and a lot of trust.”

Josh bit his lip, his mind racing. He could feel Mr. Johnson’s trust in his gaze, but he still felt hesitant about revealing too much. “It’s just ... sometimes things feel unfair, you know? Like, my mom works so hard, and it seems like we’re always just scraping by. I wish I could change that for her.”

Mr. Johnson’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Hard work doesn’t always bring the rewards it deserves. And it’s natural to want to help, especially for family.” He paused, looking at Josh intently. “Are you thinking of taking a risk? Because, if so, you have to think about the cost.”

Josh swallowed, his mind turning over the options. “I think ... there might be a way to help. But I’d need someone to be there for me, someone who could take care of the ... grown-up parts of it.” He glanced at Mr. Johnson, gauging his reaction.

Mr. Johnson gave him a serious look, understanding flickering in his eyes. “Josh, if you’ve got something you’re thinking of, I’d be honored if you trusted me with it. I might be an old dog, but I’ve seen my share of schemes,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Sometimes all it takes is a good ally. So, if you’re ready to talk, I’m all ears.”

Josh felt a rush of relief and resolve at Mr. Johnson’s words. For the first time, he felt that this crazy plan might actually be possible. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” he said, his voice thick with gratitude. “Maybe ... maybe I’ll tell you more soon.”

Mr. Johnson gave a nod of understanding. “Take your time, son. I’ll be here, ready whenever you are.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the birds flit across the yard. And for the first time, Josh felt that he was one step closer to making his dream a reality.

As they sat in companionable silence on the porch, Josh’s mind raced with possibilities. Finally, he took a deep breath, deciding to take the next step.

“Mr. Johnson,” he began, his tone casual but with an edge of nervousness, “do you ever play the lottery?”

Mr. Johnson let out a chuckle, leaning back in his chair with a bemused smile. “Every now and then, sure. Not that it’s ever paid off much,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve won a few bucks here, a free ticket there, but nothing that’d let me retire on a beach, that’s for sure.” He shot Josh a curious look. “Why do you ask?”

Josh tried to keep his tone light. “Just curious, I guess. A lot of people play but don’t win anything big. I just thought ... maybe you’d be up for a little experiment?”

Mr. Johnson’s brows knitted in intrigue. “An experiment, huh? What kind of experiment are we talking about?”

“Well,” Josh said, shifting slightly, “what if ... you let me pick the numbers for your next ticket?”

Mr. Johnson’s expression shifted from amusement to interest. “You want me to play your numbers?” He rubbed his chin, studying Josh as if he were trying to see through him. “And why, exactly, would a ten-year-old want to pick lottery numbers?”

Josh swallowed, feeling Mr. Johnson’s sharp gaze on him. “It’s hard to explain,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But I have a strong feeling about these numbers. Think of it as a test.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes narrowed slightly, his look turning thoughtful. “A test, huh? You’re full of surprises, Josh.” He crossed his arms, leaning forward. “You know, you’ve been acting a bit ... different lately. More grown-up. Not that I’m complaining—it’s impressive. But it does make me wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Josh hesitated, trying to gauge how much he could say without raising more suspicion. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about things a lot more lately. You know, how my family could use a little extra money and how hard my mom works. I want to find ways to help her out, even if it’s just in small ways.” He met Mr. Johnson’s gaze, hoping to steer the conversation back. “So, will you play the numbers for me?”

Mr. Johnson didn’t reply right away. Instead, he gave Josh a long, assessing look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re sure about these numbers? Because I’ve played a lot of numbers in my life, and none of them have amounted to much.” He tilted his head, studying Josh more closely. “Where’d you come up with them, anyway?”

Josh tried to keep his expression calm, despite the feeling of Mr. Johnson’s eyes boring into him. “Let’s just say ... it’s something I want to try. To prove a point.”

Mr. Johnson’s gaze softened slightly, though he still looked skeptical. “Alright, Josh, I’ll humor you. But just so we’re clear, these aren’t lucky numbers from a fortune cookie or something, are they?”

“No, nothing like that,” Josh replied with a slight grin. “I just ... have a good feeling about them.”

Mr. Johnson let out a slow breath, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You’ve always been a sharp kid, but something tells me you’re sharper than I realized. Picking lottery numbers to ‘prove a point’ sounds like something a grown man would say, not a ten-year-old.” He raised an eyebrow, his look somewhere between admiration and suspicion. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?”

Josh shrugged, keeping his voice steady. “Maybe. Let’s just see if these numbers work out. If they do, I’ll explain more. Promise.”

Mr. Johnson studied him for another moment, his face unreadable, before he finally nodded. “Alright, son. I’ll play the numbers.” He took out a small notepad and pen from his shirt pocket, looking at Josh expectantly. “Let’s have ‘em.”

Josh took a steadying breath, then focused on his Death’s Wish power. The transparent screen appeared, listing the winning numbers for the next drawing. He quickly memorized a combination that would net exactly $1,000—enough to make an impact but small enough to avoid suspicion.

“Okay,” Josh said, reciting the numbers one by one as Mr. Johnson jotted them down.

When Mr. Johnson finished writing, he glanced up, still giving Josh that searching look. “I don’t know why, but something tells me you’re going to surprise me with this, aren’t you?”

Josh grinned, a spark of confidence showing. “Let’s just say ... I think this will make a point. You’ll see.”

Mr. Johnson shook his head, smiling but still wary. “You know, Josh, I don’t think I’ve ever met a kid quite like you.” He slipped the note with the numbers into his pocket, giving Josh a nod. “I’ll buy the ticket this afternoon. But if this works, you’d better believe I’m gonna have some questions.”

Josh’s smile softened, feeling a surge of gratitude and excitement. “If it works, I’ll be ready to answer them.”

As he stood to leave, Mr. Johnson’s voice stopped him. “Josh,” he said, his tone a bit more serious. “Just be careful with whatever you’re getting into here. I’m happy to help, but I don’t want you taking on something too big for a boy your age.”

Josh met his gaze, trying to convey reassurance. “Don’t worry, Mr. Johnson. I know what I’m doing. And ... thank you. Really.”

Mr. Johnson gave him a nod, his face thoughtful. “Alright, son. Let’s see where this goes.”

As Josh walked back home, he felt a thrill of possibility. If Mr. Johnson played those numbers and won exactly $1,000, it would be proof that his plan could work. But he also knew that if it did work, he’d have to be prepared to answer the questions that would surely follow.

Josh climbed the old ladder up to the treehouse, his footsteps light as he settled onto the creaky wooden floor. From this vantage point, he could see the entire yard and even part of the street beyond. This place had been their kingdom once—a fort in their childhood games, a hideout where he and his brothers could escape. Sitting there now, he realized how much had changed since those simpler days.

He leaned back, feeling the rough wood of the wall behind him, and thought about all the small steps he’d been taking to bring his family closer. Meals together, chores shared, even keeping the house in better shape—all these tiny changes were slowly altering the way his family connected. He knew it wouldn’t happen overnight, but it felt like a path toward something real.

If only things had been like this the first time, he thought. Back then, they’d mostly fended for themselves, their lives separate even under the same roof. Dinner was a quick sandwich, a bowl of ramen, or, if they felt like “cooking,” a can of Chef Boyardee warmed up in the microwave. The kitchen had never been a place for them to come together—it was just where they scavenged for food. But now, maybe things could be different, he thought with a spark of hope.