Chapter 2

I looked down at my feet. The soles of my shoes had started coming apart, and I could faintly see the black socks underneath.

"Don't overexert yourself, Mom."

"I'm fine," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Your dad's medication went up in price again, so I need to sell a bit more. Besides, the cafeteria food is awful. I have to boil more so you have enough to eat."

I didn't make a sound.

Mom caressed her belly. "Your baby brother kicked me several times today. He packs a real punch. He's definitely going to turn out just like you."

I lowered my head to work on my practice problems without saying a word.

…

The next morning, long before the sun was up, Mom was already up. She had to get her stall set up before the students arrived for breakfast. Her stall was in a corner of the cafeteria, marked by a piece of red cloth spread across the counter that read, "Nutritious Eggs, One Dollar Each."

The school had initially refused to let her set up a stall. Mom had pleaded with the principal, Harvey Fletcher, for half a month before he finally relented. The condition was that she had to pay a 300-dollar management fee every month.

Three hundred dollars. The profit from 30 eggs was only 30 dollars. Mom had to sell ten pots of eggs just to cover the management fee. Yet, she still agreed. Every little bit counts, she told me.

…

At 6:40 am, I walked her to the cafeteria entrance. "I'll come help you at lunchtime."

"Don't worry about me," she said, smoothing out the red cloth. Then, she turned around to smile at me. "Focus on your studies. I've got this covered."

I left. After leaving the cafeteria, I spun around to take one last look at her.

Mom was sitting in the corner, with her insulated containers neatly arranged beside her. Pinned to the red cloth was a piece of paper that read, "Home-Raised Free-Range Eggs, Nutritious and Healthy." She lowered her head and gently stroked her belly, a smile resting on her lips.

That was the last image I would ever have of her from that morning.

…

At 11:30 am, the cafeteria doors opened.

I was among the first group to walk in.

A line had already formed in front of Mom's stall.

"I'd like two eggs, Ms. Dunn!"

"I want three!"

"I'll take two as well!"

Mom was so busy that sweat beaded on her forehead, but she kept handing out the eggs one by one and collecting the spare change, dollar by dollar. She was all smiles the entire time.

Terence bought five eggs. He peeled one as he walked back with me. "Nathan, your mom's eggs seriously smell amazing! They're a million times better than those crappy garlic scape burgers."

I turned around to look at Leon's cafeteria line. There were barely any people there.

He stood behind the counter with a grim expression. There were two men in black T-shirts beside him. However, they weren't part of the school staff.

"Leon has his eye on your mom," my class president, Scarlett Johnson, whispered as she sat down with her meal tray. "I just overheard him talking to the school's facilities staff. He said he wants her stall shut down."

My heart sank.

…

During the first period in the afternoon, Mom sent me a message. "I made 120 dollars today. That's 20 dollars more than yesterday!"

Then, she sent me a smiling emoji.

I replied. "Awesome!"

Mom: "I'll stew some ribs tonight. It'll do you good."

I didn't reply.

Terence showed me a message on his phone.

It was an announcement from the student council. "Logistics Management Office: Unauthorized stalls and unlicensed vending are strictly prohibited on campus. The responsible faculty members must take immediate action to resolve the issue."

The notice was dated 12:00 pm that day.

"This is obviously targeting your mom."

I didn't respond, but unease rose within me.

As soon as class let out, Mom called and asked me to come to the cafeteria to help her out.

When I arrived, a group of people had gathered around her stall. But they weren't students.

It was a group of men in black T-shirts, led by a bald man named Connor Hill, who had a tattoo on his neck.

"Ma'am, do you have a permit for these eggs? Do you have a hygiene permit?" Connor asked with a smile.

Mom forced a smile. "These are just eggs laid by the chickens we raise at home—"

"These eggs are from your own chickens? In that case, you definitely can't sell them! They're unlicensed, unregulated products!" Connor picked up an egg, weighing it in his hand. "Guys, I don't think these eggs are any good. Smash them!"