Mom's Miscarriage Started a School Riot

There were 37 days left until the college entrance exams.

I sat in the last row of the classroom, munching on a sandwich while staring out the window.

An elderly farmer stood at the school gate. His back was hunched, and his hand tightly clutched a few crumpled bills.

The security guard shoved him.

The old man stumbled back a couple of steps. His lips parted and closed, though I couldn't make out his words.

"What are you looking at?" My deskmate, Terence Reed, leaned over and followed my gaze. His expression darkened. "He's getting kicked out again. I heard he's here to collect the money Leon owes him for his vegetables."

I didn't utter a word.

Leon Powell was the cafeteria manager, and he had been contracting the school cafeteria for three years now.

During those three years, that old farmer wasn't the only one who had tried to get through the school gates. Not a single one of them had managed to get the money they were owed, though.

Terence poked my back. "Nathan, is your mom still setting up her food stall today?"

"Yeah."

"Sweet! I'm going to buy from her at noon." He gulped. "Your mom's eggs are a million times better than the slop they serve in the cafeteria."

Three days ago, the school loudspeakers started blaring, "Support our farmers by buying their garlic scapes!"

Red banners were draped all around the cafeteria.

Leon had stood behind the serving counter with a megaphone, his voice echoing throughout the cafeteria. "We have a bumper crop of garlic scapes this year! From here on out, it's garlic scapes all day, every day! Those old farmers got down on their knees in the dirt to harvest every single stalk. You lads are the future of this country; If you don't eat them, you ought to be ashamed!"

And just like that, the cafeteria menu changed. We were introduced to steamed garlic scapes, garlic scape chowder, and garlic-scape-stuffed burgers.

The first time Terence tried it, he took one bite and immediately spat it out. "What the hell is this? Is this even safe for humans to consume?"

Leon heard him and slammed his fist down on the table. "If you won't eat it, there are plenty of others who will! If you can't even handle this little hardship, you might as well drop out right now!"

Terence shrank back.

I didn't spit mine out, but when I went home that night, I had to use the bathroom three times.

I shook my head, forcing the thoughts of that cafeteria slop out of my mind.

I shifted my gaze toward a corner of the cafeteria. That was where my mother, Hannah Dunn, had set up her stall.

Mom was a schoolteacher, but to help cover my dad's medical expenses, she had started selling eggs at the cafeteria.

Each pot of water could boil 30 eggs. Every single night, seven months pregnant and drenched in sweat, she would tend to it.

I wanted to help her, but she waved me off. "Go study. I got it."

My father, Eric Moore, coughed heavily. The sound echoed from the back room.

He had gone through three rounds of chemotherapy. He'd lost all his hair and was down to skin and bones.

I was doing my homework at my desk when I heard Mom quietly crunching the numbers. "The profit on each egg is a dollar, so 30 eggs equal 30 dollars. Even if I only sell 30 eggs a day, that's 900 dollars a month. That's enough to cover one box of medicine for your dad."

Once the eggs were done, she wiped them down one by one and placed them into an insulated container. "Nat, once we sell out this batch, I'll buy you a new pair of shoes."