Chapter 3

Before I could react, she took my phone and pulled up my payment app.

"Twenty bucks isn't enough. If you need help again, come to me first."

My phone dinged with a notification:

[You received $200.]

I panicked. "No, I can't take your money."

She shook her head, still serious. "Relax. It's a loan."

I hadn't cried after going hungry for three days.

I hadn't cried when Penny tore into me.

But the second Ms. Taylor showed me kindness—after knowing me for only three days—

I broke down.

Thanks to Ms. Taylor, I finally ate decent meals and made it through orientation.

The job hunt worked out too.

I landed a gig handing out flyers outside a mall for twenty bucks an hour.

A few shifts, and I'd be able to pay Ms. Taylor back within a week.

Then, the day I got my first paycheck, Mom called.

"Lucia, did you get a job behind my back?"

***

I couldn't believe it.

Besides my roommates, nobody knew about my job.

Then it hit me.

Yesterday was Saturday. I'd gotten up early and tried to be quiet, but I still woke Chloe.

She immediately snapped, "Lucia, seriously? Why are you making so much noise this early? I'm trying to sleep."

Okay, that one was on me.

"Sorry. I'll be quieter next time."

But Chloe wasn't done.

She climbed out of bed and shot me a look. "Your parents sent you to college, and you're out handing out flyers? That's pathetic."

So this was the attitude Chloe was famous for.

Still, I wasn't exactly in a position to clap back.

And honestly, she wasn't wrong.

I wasn't chasing some big dream.

I just wanted enough money to eat.

'But would she really tell Mom about my job?'

While I was still wondering, Mom said, "Since you can make your own money now, I'm not giving you living expenses for a while."

I almost felt relieved.

Then we hung up.

And Mom sent me a bill.

A bill saying I owed her $180,000 for raising me.

[Installment repayment plan: $1,000 a month.]

I tried to reply, but my fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

Then Mom sent another voice message.

"Since you're still young and don't make much, I'll cut you a deal. While you're in college, you only owe me $700 a month. After graduation, it'll be more."

The longer I listened, the dizzier I got.

'Funny. Nobody told me I was born owing money.'

Or maybe I really did owe her.

After all, Dad had died because of me.

Or at least, that's what I'd been telling myself for three years.

Freshman year of high school, I got into a prestigious boarding school.

Everyone was thrilled.

Dad most of all.

But he was still waiting to get paid for a construction job. Between my $500-a-month living costs and over $2,000 for books and housing, he needed cash fast.

So he picked up a temporary construction gig.

On the phone, he sounded so happy.

He said he'd be home with the money in three days.

He never made it home.

A construction accident killed him on-site.

That was why I'd put up with Mom sending me money one meal at a time.

And now, three years later, it felt like that tragedy had come back to punish me.