Chapter 3

I also wanted to put Dad's mind at ease.

But during those days of gastroenteritis, my energy hit rock bottom.

I barely had anything to check in about, so I only earned a few cents a day.

Dad didn't seem to notice either, or wonder whether a few dimes a day was really enough for a student to live on.

Suddenly, it all felt pointless.

I checked in less and less. I could survive on one bread roll a day.

When I got hungry, I drank water. A jug cost thirty cents and lasted a week.

I started finding odd jobs around campus, running errands for classmates in exchange for food and drinks. I actually put on a little weight.

For some reason, I felt a lot lighter.

But Dad grew anxious because I was reporting to him less and less.

He went from coaxing to warnings to cursing me out. "Jamie, if you don't listen to your own father, you'll be struck by lightning!"

I ignored him.

That afternoon, holding a little snack cake a classmate had given me, I reached into my desk drawer out of habit to touch my robot model.

It wasn't there!

I broke into a cold sweat on the spot.

It was the only keepsake Mom had left me.

Mom loved me so much.

Back then, money was tight. I saw a kid in town with an assembled robot model, and it looked so cool.

I told Mom I wanted one too.

Dad scolded me for being an ungrateful little spendthrift. Mom just smiled and calmed him down, then comforted me after his scolding made me cry.

No one expected it, but the very next week, Mom bought me the robot model. She secretly spent two whole weeks assembling it before giving it to me. "My baby deserves the best of everything in the world."

Only later did I hear from others that Mom had sold the ring from her dowry and added some money of her own, all to buy me that model. For three whole months afterward, she'd had to budget carefully just to buy a bottle of vinegar.

It was the last thing Mom had left that belonged only to me.

Whenever I felt down, I'd touch the model, and it was as if Mom were right there with me. It gave me so much comfort.

But now it was gone.

I panicked and couldn't stop trembling. My mind went blank, and I had no idea what to do.

Only when I spotted the security camera at the back of the classroom did I think to go to our class advisor and ask to check the footage.

The advisor called everyone in our class back to the classroom. It was Sunday, a rare day off, and they'd been dragged back in.

Everyone was a little annoyed.

Clenching my fists, I followed the advisor into the classroom, anxious and flustered.

The advisor spoke sternly. "Jamie's robot model is missing. If any of you picked it up by mistake, give it back right away."

Once they heard what it was about, the class got even more irritated, and murmurs broke out.

"Who knows who took his stupid robot."

"What year is it? Who steals a robot model?"

Someone else asked impatiently, "Jamie is so broke he can't even scrape together a few dollars a day. Where would he get the money for a robot model?

"You don't think he stole it, do you?"

The advisor was taken aback by that and looked at me in surprise.

"Did you really lose a robot model? What does it look like?"

An indescribable feeling rose inside me, and my face burned.

Fighting back the sting in my nose, I described it.

"It's a Justice Titan model kit. It's red. It's a keepsake my mom left me when she died. If any of you have seen it, please give it back to me. Please."

The classroom went quiet, but no one stepped forward.

After a while, the classmate who'd suggested I stole it muttered under his breath, "Who knows if that's even true. He's so poor, maybe he's actually desperate for cash right now. If all else fails, just call his dad and ask."

The advisor nodded and stepped out to call my dad.

A little later, the advisor came back, looking at me with a sour expression.

"Jamie, there's no shame in being poor. What's shameful is being dishonest. I just asked your dad, and he said you never had any robot model."