Chapter 4

Grandma worked a half-acre plot of land out back.

We grew potatoes in the spring, corn in the summer, and cabbage in the fall.

She was out in those fields every single morning before dawn.

And I went right out there with her.

At first, she tried to stop me.

"You're too little. Just stay in the house and do your schoolwork," she'd say.

But I insisted on tagging along.

I couldn't stand watching her limp back to the house every afternoon, her back so stiff she couldn't even stand up straight.

The farm work was grueling.

Tilling the soil, spreading fertilizer, hauling water, and pulling weeds. It was all backbreaking labor.

Grandma would have to stop and catch her breath every few minutes, her hands constantly shaking.

"Are you feeling sick, Grandma?" I'd ask.

She'd wave it off. "I'm fine, sweetie, just a bit worn out."

But I knew it was way more than just fatigue.

She was in her seventies.

She was supposed to be retired and enjoying life.

Instead, she was out here breaking her back in the dirt just to keep me fed.

I started helping her pull weeds.

I was pretty slow at first, and the sharp roots sliced up my fingers more times than I could count.

But I never complained.

I just gritted my teeth and kept pulling.

When Grandma noticed the blood on my hands, her eyes welled up.

She pulled a raggedy handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it tightly around my fingers.

"Sweetheart, stop. Go back to the house," she said.

"I'm not tired," I replied.

"Your hands are cut to pieces."

"It's fine, it doesn't even hurt."

She stared at me, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She pulled me into a tight embrace. "Charlotte, you're way too young to be dealing with all this hardship."

I shook my head against her shoulder. "It's not hard, Grandma."

But deep down, I knew the ugly truth.

It was incredibly hard.

While the other kids went home to watch cartoons and eat junk food, I was out doing manual labor, washing clothes in a metal tub, and cooking dinners.

Other kids sported brand new clothes and trendy backpacks for the school year.

My clothes were cast-offs that Grandma salvaged and scrubbed clean.

Even my shoes were falling apart, literally worn completely through at the toes.

Grandma was desperate to buy me a new pair of shoes.

But it took her three solid months just to scrape together ten bucks.

When she finally did, she took me into town.

We hiked two hours down the mountain just to get to the local strip mall.

Grandma dragged me by the hand into a discount shoe store.

The owner took one look at us and scowled. "What are you looking for?"

"I need some shoes for my granddaughter," Grandma said.

"What size?"

Grandma glanced down at my feet. "Probably a size two in kids."

The owner pulled out a pair of crisp white sneakers. "These are nice. Ten bucks."

Grandma froze for a second. "Do you have anything a little cheaper?"

The owner rolled her eyes. "The cheap ones are the out-of-season clearance stuff over there."

She pointed to a messy pile of shoes dumped in the corner.

Grandma walked over and started digging through the pile.

I trailed behind her, staring at the beat-up pairs.

Some had soles peeling off, while others were practically worn through the bottom.

She eventually fished out a pair of plain black canvas slip-ons. "How much for these?"

"Five dollars," the shopkeeper replied.

"Could you do any better on the price?"

"Nope. That's as cheap as it gets."

Grandma hesitated for a long time.

Finally, she fished a little cloth pouch out of her pocket.

Inside was a wad of crumpled singles and handfuls of quarters and dimes.

She started counting it all out, agonizingly slow.

The owner huffed impatiently. "Hurry up, you're holding up the line."

Grandma's hands started shaking worse than before.

I watched her count it out three separate times just to make sure it was exactly five dollars.

She handed the cash over.

The owner snatched it up, eyeing the handful of change with sheer disgust. "Great, all these coins. Gonna take me all day to count this out."

Grandma just kept her head down in silence.

I tugged gently on her sleeve. "Come on, Grandma. Let's get out of here."

Once we were outside, she handed me the shoes. "Try them on. Let's see if they fit."

I slipped them on and walked a few steps. They were a little loose, but totally wearable.

"They fit perfectly," I said.

Grandma smiled. "Good."

I couldn't stop staring at my new shoes the entire trek back.

Sure, they were old clearance stock, and yeah, they were pretty ugly.

But Grandma had saved up for three whole months just to buy them for me.

I stepped carefully, terrified of getting them dirty.

She walked ahead of me, her pace incredibly slow. Her shoulders looked even more hunched over.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of sadness hit me.

Grandma was giving literally everything she had just to keep me alive.

*****

After finishing my homework that night, I sat out in the yard, zoning out.

The moon was full and the stars were blazing overhead, but I felt freezing cold on the inside.

My mind flashed back to a pair of crisp white baby sneakers Mom had bought for my brother.

They cost over thirty bucks.

I still remembered her saying, "My son is only wearing the best."

And there I was, unable to even afford a cheap ten-dollar pair from the discount rack.

I looked down at the canvas slip-ons on my feet.

A loud, fierce voice echoed in my head.

One day, things were going to change.

I was going to make enough money to buy anything I ever wanted.

I was going to give Grandma the amazing life she deserved.

I was going to prove to every single person who looked down on me that I was just as good as anybody else.