Chapter 2

I was so mad, but just then, the bell rang.

Ms. Sable walked in. When she saw me, she said with a frown, “Didn’t you hear the bell ring? What are you doing just standing there?

“Ms. Sable, Denise used my test paper as draft paper. She even tore it!”

I had thought she would stand up for me, but her next sentence struck me like lightning.

“Kicking up a ruckus in class for something so trivial?” she said irritably. “Can’t you just print another copy if your test paper is torn? Must you hold everyone up in class? Or can that specific test paper magically transform you from the bottom to the top student of the level?”

Low chuckles could be heard in the quiet classroom.

My jaw tightened. I stood where I was in silence, hatred filling my heart.

I hated Denise’s arrogance, the teacher’s bias and, even more so, my inability to refute them.

I eventually photocopied the teacher’s copy of the test paper and completed it.

While doing the test, I was muddle-headed because of the time I had wasted and the sullen mood I was in. When the bell rang, I still had one-third of the paper left undone.

It went without saying that I was going to be at the bottom of the class this time.

After school, it started drizzling.

When I walked past the staff office, I heard Yvette chatting with other teachers inside.

“Denise was the only one in her class who could solve the final, capstone question of this test. She’s simply a genius. As for the weaker students, they couldn’t even come up with a single word. Their paper was submitted blank for that question.”

I gripped the straps of my bag tight and rushed into the rain, my head lowered.

When I returned to my cramped rental apartment, I found it empty.

A slightly warm bowl of pasta was on the wooden table, with a note under it.

[Jordan, we have a major reservation at the restaurant today and we’re shorthanded. I’m taking the night shift for today. If the pasta’s gone cold, heat it up again. Sleep early tonight.]

My mom worked in a seafood restaurant, serving and washing dishes all day and doing the toughest, most menial of all jobs.

Her back wasn’t good, and she would always be in so much pain during rainy days that she could hardly stand straight.

The rain that was getting heavier and heavier outside made me worried about her. I found some medicated plaster and headed out again with an umbrella.

When I entered through the crew passageway into the corridor on the second floor where the VIP room was located, I heard boisterous laughter just around the corner. Through the door that was left slightly ajar, I saw my mom standing awkwardly next to the large round table.

A pot-bellied man waved a wad of cash in front of her and teased, “I’m in a good mood today. Dance for us right here, and I'll tip you a thousand dollars!”

He wasn’t asking for a dance. He wanted to see a service staff member of the lowest class pleasing him in the most embarrassing and humiliating manner.

As I had expected, my mom’s face turned pale. She stood frozen on the spot.

A middle-aged man at the head of the table chuckled. “Larsson, you’re really not picky, are you? You’re so generous even to an old hag. Aren’t you afraid she’ll latch onto you and never let go?”

Everyone in the room burst out laughing.

I recognized the middle-aged man at the head of the table. He was Denise’s father. During this year’s school opening ceremony, he went on stage to deliver a speech as the parent of an outstanding student.

From the looks of it, Denise’s arrogance and the way she treated people clearly came from him.

Mr. Larsson laughed out loud, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Mr. Chadburn, I’ve got to keep things entertaining for everyone! We’re a society governed by law, anyway. If she’s not willing, I can’t force her. Hahaha…”

What a bully!

I clenched my fists, ready to barge in when I heard my mom’s voice.

“I’m willing to do it. I’ll dance right now!”