Clink.
Clink.
Clink-clink.
I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock, but for a moment I thought I was still dreaming. In my half-asleep state, I could swear I heard the distant sound of coins dropping.
Then I remembered. The vending machine.
I shot out of bed and threw on yesterday’s clothes, my heart racing with excitement. Had anyone actually used it? Or was it just sitting there in the park, humming away to nobody?
“Slow down there, Speed Racer,” Dad said as I practically flew down the stairs. “Where’s the fire?”
“I need to check the machine!” I said, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter. “What if people bought sodas? What if it actually worked?”
Mom smiled over her coffee cup. “Honey, it’s seven in the morning. The park is probably empty.”
“But what if someone went jogging? Or walked their dog? Or—”
“Okay, okay,” Dad laughed, grabbing his keys. “Let’s go check on your investment.”
The drive to the park felt like it took forever, even though it was only five minutes. When we pulled into the parking lot, I could see my machine in the distance, still humming quietly near the playground.
I ran over to it, Dad close behind me. The machine looked exactly the same as yesterday—red and white, lights glowing softly, displaying all the colorful soda options.
But when I opened the coin compartment with the key Mike had given me, my jaw dropped.
Quarters. Lots of them. And dollar bills, too.
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered, staring at the pile of money. “Dad, look!”
Dad peered over my shoulder and whistled. “Well, I’ll be. Looks like you had some customers.”
I counted quickly. Six dollars. That meant people had bought… I did the math in my head… That’s five customers other than the soda you purchased last night! Five sodas sold while I was sleeping!
“This is incredible,” I said, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. “I made money while I was asleep!”
“Passive income,” Dad said proudly.
When we got home, Mom was waiting in the kitchen with a huge smile on her face.
“Well?” she asked. “How did your first night in the vending machine business go?”
“Five dollars!” I announced, holding up the money. “Five dollars, and I wasn’t even there!”
Mom’s eyes went wide. “Kiora, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.”
“We both are,” Dad added, putting his arm around my shoulders. “You took a huge risk, and it’s paying off.”
I sat down at the kitchen table, still staring at the money in my hands. Six months ago, I’d been a regular kid with a dream of going to Florida. I’d started with five dollars from Mom, selling lemonade in our front yard.
Now I had a vending machine that made money while I slept.
I thought about everything that had happened — the failed lemonade stand, the dog chase, getting rained out, the permit battles, Mr. Griggs and his food truck, the movie nights, and finally this machine that hummed quietly in the park, solving people’s problems twenty-four hours a day.
“You know what’s funny?” I said, looking up at my parents. “I started all this because I wanted to earn money for a trip to Florida. Now I have something that could earn me money for lots of trips. Or maybe something even better.”
“Like what?” Mom asked.
I thought about it for a moment, watching the morning sunlight stream through our kitchen window. Somewhere out there, people were probably already buying sodas from my machine. Kids getting drinks after playing on the playground. Joggers stopping for something cold after their run. Families grabbing sodas for their picnics.
And I was just sitting here in my pajamas, making money.
“I don’t know yet,” I said, smiling. “But I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”
Outside, I could almost hear the distant sound of coins clinking into my machine, one quarter at a time. The sound of a business that worked even when I wasn’t there. The sound of possibilities I hadn’t even dreamed of yet.
Something told me this was just the beginning.