Chapter 2

Maggie's question made me laugh.

My eyes drifted back to the line that listed Zach's father.

With the noise of students pouring out onto the playground after school, I suddenly remembered the first time I met Morris in ninth grade. It had also been because of a fight.

I punched my desk mate for calling me a stray kid.

Morris had beaten up the class sports rep for calling him a jinx.

Two stubborn kids who refused to admit fault, and neither of us had parents who could be called in. We were made to stand under the school flagpole together, surrounded by teachers and students from the entire campus.

In the middle of the principal's lecture, Morris noticed the cotton stuffed up my nose and the blood on my index finger, which had been cut by broken glass.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly. "You lost?"

I bit my lip. "I skipped breakfast. That's all. Next time, I'll beat him till he begs to stop."

He paused, then said lightly, "Next time you get in a fight, come find me. I'll make sure you win."

Maggie raised her hand.

"You fought because your desk mate had a filthy mouth. Why did he fight?"

I rubbed the scar on my index finger and let my gaze slide down from the word "Father".

Grandmother.

"He lost his dad when he was little. His grandparents passed away when he was in elementary school. In middle school, his mom got sick. His tuition was scraped together by relatives and neighbors. Everyone called him a jinx and said he was bad luck."

Maggie stared, stunned. After a long moment, she sighed.

"Two poor kids clinging together."

I pressed my lips together.

Actually, after we both got into a top college, those two poor kids became three.

A best friend I hadn't seen in years was attending the same college. She ran over to me in excitement and accidentally knocked over Morris's cup.

The latte he had made for me spilled all over both of them.

Afraid their first impression of each other would be ruined, I rushed to introduce them.

"This is my boyfriend, Morris. Morris, this is Courtney, my closest friend from the foster home."

-

My relationship with Morris was never what you would call romantic.

In high school, we went to class during the day and skipped evening study hall at night to hand out flyers, just to earn money for the next day's meals.

After we were done, we would curl up together in the hallway outside his mom, Judy Freeman's, hospital room, using the hospital lights to tutor each other.

I was good at literature and terrible at math. He was the opposite.

To avoid disturbing the patients, we could only write what we wanted to say on scraps of paper.

Over three years of high school, we filled five full notebooks of draft paper. Our college entrance exam scores were exactly the same.

On the day we checked our results, Judy couldn't eat a thing.

I spooned oatmeal to her, and she grabbed my fingers, her eyes red.

"Olivia, if you and Morris don't get into the same school, will you still come see me? It's okay if you end up falling for another boy. Just come back and be my daughter, all right? Olivia, I really can't bear to let you go."

When Morris walked in holding freshly dried laundry and saw the two of us clinging to each other and crying, he looked completely helpless.

"Worst case, we do long distance. Once we graduate, we'll get married right away. We're meant to spend our lives together, anyway."

Later, when we started college, I moved out of the foster home, while Judy was discharged and went back home.

Morris couldn't bring himself to accept help from relatives and neighbors anymore, so we applied for student loans together.

College gave us more time to work. I took two part-time jobs. He took three.

We were in different schools in college, so most days, the only time we had together was late at night, walking back to the dorms after work, leaning close and talking about the future we dreamed of.

We made a promise: In our junior year, we would aim for a fully funded exchange program. In senior year, we would go study abroad in Merinthia together.

Then, we would get married after graduation.

For that future full of hope, we worked even harder. We worked while studying, saving every dollar we could.