Lia's Guide to Winning the Lottery by Keren David

as well. But the imam says it’s definitely gambling.’
    There weren’t many Muslim girls at my school – Shaz kind of stuck out with her headscarf. Most of them went to the girls’ school round the corner. But Shaz was determined to go to the school with the Science specialism, and when we got friendly in year seven she was just totally normal. Then her dad started going to the mosque more often, and the headscarf appeared, and every now and again it was a bit of a problem, like when she couldn’t have lunch during Ramadan.
    But we’d never had a problem like this.
    I got up to go. Shaz still looked really miserable, so I said, ‘Why don’t you come with us? Help us look at motorbikes?’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yeah, it’ll be really boring just listening to Jack droning on about engine power and stuff. And anyway, you’re really good at Physics. You can advise us.’
    â€˜Oh well, OK,’ she said, and she did look happier. I congratulated myself.
    Jack lived at the other end of Tithe Green and the garage was miles away in Enfield, so we called a taxi. I sprang out to ring the doorbell, while Shaz texted Jack to get him to come down.
    Unfortunately Jack’s mum answered the door.
    â€˜Hello, Lia,’ said Donna, face sour as a pint of week-old milk. ‘What can I do for you? Perhaps you want to book a course of manicures, to match your mum’s new acrylic nail extensions. She was telling me all about how you’re going to buy them a holiday, get your sister singing lessons.’
    Oh brilliant, thanks Mum. Donna owned the Hard as Nails Salon, right next to Latimer’s Loaves. It sounded like mum had been in there, spending my money. Huh. I had better things to spend my money on than her artificial claws. I’d have to put a stop to that.
    I wasn’t quite sure how.
    â€˜Hello Mrs Hargreaves,’ I said, really politely.‘Is Jack there? We arranged to pick him up and we’ve got a taxi waiting.’
    â€˜Oh you’ve got a taxi waiting, have you?’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t want to spend all your money on keeping a taxi waiting. After all, we’re still waiting to see what arrangement you’re going to come to with our Jack.’
    â€˜Errr . . . what?’
    She narrowed her eyes, so all I could see were her clumpy lashes.
    â€˜You know very well what I mean, Madam Lia. You need to play fair with my son.’
    â€˜But—’ I said, and then Jack came thumping down the stairs, grabbed his jacket, said, ‘Bye, Mum, come on, Lia,’ and jumped in the back of the taxi with Shaz.
    â€˜Umm, goodbye,’ I said.
    She was looking at the taxi. ‘You watch it,’ she said. ‘I know all about you, Miss Lia Latimer.’
    â€˜Errr . . . bye. . .’ I said, and walked away. I was nervous – what could she mean? Oh God. I just hoped she’d be really pleased and surprised when she saw the amazing bike I was going to buy for Jack. So pleased and surprised that she’d forget anything else she might or might not be thinking.
    You’d have thought it would be easy enough buying a motorbike, wouldn’t you? Two wheels,handlebars, shiny bit in the middle. Jack was buzzing all the way in the cab, talking about the sleek, mean machine he was going to get. It was kind of annoying. He should have been a lot more grateful.
    I was almost glad when we got to the garage and he immediately got into a fight with the salesman.
    â€˜I am not showing a boy of your age a sports bike,’ he said. ‘A 50cc, that’s where you need to start. You’re not even old enough for a provisional licence yet. Tell you what, son, why don’t you come back when you’re seventeen?’
    â€˜What happened to the customer always being right?’ said Jack.
    â€˜I don’t believe for one moment that you can afford a bike like that, and you certainly won’t have the