Chapter 2

There was an unspoken rule in our family.

It wasn't Christmas dinner without meatball soup.

Mom always said the best meatballs came from Rossi's on the south side. They were hearty, perfectly seasoned, with the right bite, and when cooked, they turned the broth rich and savory.

But Rossi's meatballs were pricey and tough to get.

They only sold a limited amount each day, so anyone who showed up late was out of luck.

Every year, Dad would drive over early in the morning to wait in line.

But this year, Dad said he was swamped with work at the end of the year and couldn't get away.

Mom sighed. "Forget it. Just grab whatever's easiest."

I could sense the regret in their conversation.

An idea started growing wildly inside me.

I'd go get them.

I carefully took out my half-semester's scholarship savings from my old metal box, counting it out bill by bill.

On Christmas Eve, I told Mom I was going out with some classmates.

She didn't even lift her head, too busy putting new clothes on Aiden, and mumbled, "Come back soon. Don't be late for dinner."

My nose stung, and I almost burst into tears.

For the first time ever, she didn't ask me who I was with, where I was going, or when I'd be home.

Maybe I still meant something to her.

Holding onto that little bit of hope, I got on the bus heading downtown.

The sky was heavy and gray, and the wind sliced across my face like a knife.

By the time I got to Rossi's, the line was already snaking down the street.

I stood at the very end, the cold wind seeping through my thin coat from every direction.

Everyone around me was chatting in small groups, grumbling about how long the wait was.

But I was the only one there, clutching the money in my arms like it was a precious dream.

One hour ticked by.

Then two.

And three.

The line moved slowly. My legs had gone numb from the cold.

Finally, it was my turn.

The woman behind the counter looked up at me. "How much do you need, young lady?"

I handed over the crumpled bills I'd been clutching so tightly. "I... I want five pounds."

That was enough for all five of us.

The lady weighed and packed everything up in a flash, then handed me a heavy bag.

"Here you go, and Merry Christmas!" she said.

I took the bag of meatballs, and for a moment, it felt like I was carrying everything that mattered to me.

I could already picture them bubbling away in the pot tonight, the whole place would smell amazing.

Mom would look at me with surprise. Dad would give me a proud pat on the shoulder. Ella and Aiden would be scrambling for the meatballs.

They'd say to me, "That's our girl. All grown up and so thoughtful."

Clutching the bag of meatballs, I rushed toward the bus stop.

The spark of hope in my heart blazed even stronger.

When I finally reached the bus stop, I was stunned.

The last bus heading back to the suburbs had already left five minutes before.

Because it was Christmas Eve, all the buses had called it a day early.

I stood alone on the deserted platform, the icy wind chilling me to the bone and putting out the last bit of hope I had left.

What now?

I dug through my pockets and found only a handful of coins, not even enough for an unlicensed cab.

My home was a good 12 miles out in the suburbs.

I looked up at the sky. Snowflakes were starting to fall.

I couldn't just stand here and wait.

I had to get home.

Christmas dinner hadn't even started yet. They were all waiting for me.

Clutching that heavy bag of meatballs, I started trudging down the empty road.

The cars on the street thinned out, and the streetlights stretched my shadow longer and longer.

I kept up a brisk pace, afraid to slow down even for a moment.

The meatballs in my arms were all I had left to hope for. I couldn't let them freeze solid before I got home.

The snow was dumping down, covering the road in no time.

My shoes were soaked, icy water creeping in until every step felt like I was walking on a block of ice.

Two hours in, I was barely halfway home.

My energy was fading fast, and my eyes started to go fuzzy.

I stumbled and crashed to the ground, the meatballs going flying.

I ignored the sharp pain in my knees and scrambled to pick up the meatballs, holding them tight against me.

Don't drop them.

These meatballs were my only chance, my one hope to earn their smiles.

At ten o'clock at night, I finally saw the glow from my window in the distance.

That patch of warm light was the only thing that kept me pushing forward after three hours on the road.

I used up every last ounce of strength and rushed to the doorstep.

I could hear laughter and the TV blaring from inside.

Just beyond that door was my home.

I raised my numb, frozen hand and knocked.

I was bursting with joy, ready for their embrace.