Chapter 2

It had all been a dream.

I had waited at the edge of town too long in the cold and caught a fever.

What I had seen was just a fever dream.

Emily sighed and pressed a couple of white pills into my hand. "Take these. For the fever."

I swallowed the bitter pills, my eyes staring past the hills toward the horizon.

"Is it better out there?" I asked.

Her eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed.

"If you've got money, it's all neon and nightlife. It's wonderful. But for people like us, it is nothing special. Assembly lines, swing shifts. Still, it beats trying to make a living from nothing," Emily said.

She looked at me. "Lily, quit school. Come work at the plant with me. They are hiring, room and board included."

I clenched the worn fabric of my coat and shook my head. "I want to stay in school," I said.

She laughed, a short, humorless sound. "What about the money? No money means no school."

I looked down. I didn't want that. I'd seen the pattern: every girl from our town who left for the plants came back within a couple of years with a ring, then a baby.

Emily was following the same script. The man she brought home meant an engagement after the holidays.

And once a girl married, it was over. Her path was fixed.

I couldn't accept that.

The thought of trading one cage for another filled me with dread.

When I didn't answer, Emily sighed and turned back toward her home.

*****

On New Year's Eve, the town echoed with the sound of fireworks.

I waited in the empty house until the sky turned black. My mother never showed.

The last of our food was gone.

My stomach ached with hunger.

The smell of stewed meat drifted from next door, tugging at me.

I pushed the door open and stumbled outside.

In the alley, a large yellow dog was sprawled out, gnawing on a bone.

The bone still had shreds of meat clinging to it.

I stared at the bone, my throat tight. I could not stop the saliva filling my mouth.

A sane part of my mind knew it was food for a dog.

But hunger took over. Checking that no one was around, I lunged and snatched the bone from the dog's jaws.

"Lily? What are you doing?" Fiona stepped out with a tub of scraps, catching me in the act.

I froze, the bone in my hand, slick with the dog's slobber.

My face burned. I flung the bone down, wishing the ground would swallow me.

Fiona stared for a long moment, then sighed.

She turned, went inside, and came back with a plate piled with mashed potatoes and a thick slice of pot roast.

"Eat," she said.

All dignity forgotten, I took the plate and wolfed down the food.

When I was done, she took me to see Thomas Clark, our town leader.

"This child has been alone for months. I checked her place. She's out of food. What is she going to do? You have to do something," she said.

Thomas looked me over. "I'll call her mother to come get her."

My chest tightened, and I stood up straighter.

I wondered how Mom would react.

Thomas dialed, but almost instantly, an automated voice came through the speaker. "We are sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

I went completely still.

She had changed her number.

She had cut her last tie to this place.

She didn't want me anymore.

Thomas hung up, his expression troubled.

"Lily, there's only so much aid the town can provide," he said. "The seniors living alone need it more. Without help, they could starve."

He added, "You live here, but your name isn't on our family rolls. It's difficult to justify giving town funds to you."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Finally, Thomas's wife, Margaret, spoke up. "We'll put her on a circuit: she can take her portion from ours first, then go to others who'll chip in a little. Between us all, she'll have a full meal."

I nodded earnestly. "Thank you, Mrs. Clark."

To survive, I would swallow every last shred of pride.

So I began. Each day, I secured a portion from each kitchen in town.

I learned the language of closed doors and thin smiles. When a meal was not to be had, I made do with what I had, in silence.

By the next New Year, I had learned to expect nothing.

The days blurred into one long stretch of study and humble visits for food.

Then the letter arrived: my high school acceptance. I stood holding it, my hands unsteady.

It was the best school around.

But I couldn't smile.

The costs of actually going—a place to live, food, books— added up to almost one thousand dollars.

I sat on the doorstep, staring at the letter, numb.

Give up? I couldn't. My chest was tight with a stubborn refusal to give up.

Just when I thought I had nowhere left to turn, Mom came back.

She set down her luggage and looked me over.

"Look at you. All grown up," she said, her voice soft.

No matter how high I had built the walls around my heart, they crumbled at those words.

I rushed forward and threw my arms around her waist, sobbing as if I could cry out two years of pain.

"Mom, I missed you so much," I choked out.

She stiffened but didn't push me away. She didn't hug me back either.

When the tears finally subsided, I wiped my face.

With trembling hands, I pulled the letter from inside my shirt, where it had been warmed against my skin.

"Mom, I got into high school," I said, my voice shaky. Could you help with the costs? Once I'm working, I'll pay you back double. I promise."