Chapter 3
When morning came, a plump cleaning lady in a gray work outfit came in.
She was lugging a huge black garbage bag—clearly here to clean up the mess.
While no one was around, I dug out everything I'd stashed in my dirty old coat pockets and lined them up nice and neat on the coffee table.
There was half a rock-hard bread roll, a bright red wedding invitation, three candy wrappers I'd found on the street that still smelled faintly of strawberries, and most important of all—a rusty old tin can, my precious piggy bank.
I counted them over and over, like a little hoarder guarding my stash.
The cleaning lady suddenly shrieked, "Oh lord, what a disaster!
"Mr. Grant! Mr. Grant, you gotta see this! Look at all the garbage this beggar dragged in—it's killing me with the smell!"
Garbage? There was no trash here. These were for him. He liked strawberry candy, and he still hadn't had anything to eat.
Before I could grab my stash, someone came stomping up to the door.
The man, looking sharp but mean as ever, barged in.
"What's going on?" he snapped, impatience all over his face.
The cleaning lady shrieked, pointing at my stuff with a face full of disgust, "Look at this! Moldy bread, a busted tin can, and all these filthy scraps... She's even messed up your expensive leather coffee table! The whole place reeks!"
Samuel came over and looked down at the pile.
His brows instantly scrunched up into a deep scowl.
"Emily, are you trying to make me sick? Dragging your garbage scavenger act into my house?" he said, staring at me.
I shook my head frantically.
"It's not garbage..." I whispered, carefully smoothing out the colorful candy wrappers.
The sweet scent made my throat dry, and my stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl.
I really wanted to lick it, just once, just to get a hint of that strawberry flavor.
But as I brought the pitiful scraps close to my mouth, my hand snapped back like I'd touched a live wire.
No... I couldn't. These were for him. They were his lifeline.
"It's not garbage..." I whispered, my voice trembling.
I clutched the candy wrappers tight, her face flushed with worry.
"Medicine... this is Sam's life-saving medicine," I said, barely above a whisper.
I pointed at my head, then tapped my lips.
"Dizzy... eat candy... if it's sweet, I won't feel dizzy anymore," I mumbled.
Then I pressed the candy wrapper to my nose, inhaled deeply, and then offered it to Samuel.
"It's sweet... just smell it... you won't feel dizzy," I said.
Samuel looked taken aback for a moment.
A weird look flashed in his eyes, but it vanished instantly—his eyes just burned hotter with rage.
"Low blood sugar?" Samuel scoffed, then suddenly swept his hand across the coffee table, knocking all my stuff to the floor. "Your rotten affection is enough to make me sick!"
All my precious stuff got swept right off the table, tumbling onto the floor.
The tin can spun into the corner, burst open, and my coins scattered everywhere, clinking and jingling like crazy.
That was my whole fortune—just three bucks and fifty cents.
"No!" I shrieked, my voice frantic and desperate.
I scrambled on her hands and knees, trying to grab all my treasures before they could be snatched away.
"Get rid of it. All of it. Next time I see this junk in my house, toss her out with it," he snapped at the cleaning lady.
"Right away!" the cleaning lady said.
She barreled over with a broom and dustpan, sweeping up my bread roll, candy wrappers, and everything else like it was nothing but trash, dumping it all into the black garbage bag without a second thought.
"No... please..." I begged, her voice shaking, desperate.
I clutched the corner of the garbage bag with everything I had—I wouldn't let go for anything.
"Give it back... it's for him... he'll go hungry if he doesn't eat..." I pleaded.
The cleaning lady gave my hand a hard kick.
My grip slipped, and the garbage bag was yanked away.
The door clicked shut again.
The room fell silent once more.
I collapsed on the floor, staring at the empty coffee table. It felt like someone had gouged out a chunk of my heart—hurting so bad I could barely breathe.
Gone. Just like that.
All of it—gone.
No food left, no candy, either. Nothing.
I was such a pathetic loser.
Suddenly, my eyes lit up as I spotted something in the corner of the room.
The tin box was still there!
It must've rolled too far for the cleaning lady to see!
I crawled over on all fours, hugging the rusty tin box to my chest. Then I fumbled under the couch for a while until my fingers finally found the coin that had rolled in there.
Thank goodness.
I dropped the coin into the box and listened to the soft clink. A smile broke through my tears.
"It's okay... it's okay..." I pressed my face against the cold metal. "The money's still here."
I didn't dare say another word. I just slipped my fingers inside and kept running them over the coins, again and again.
There was a faint sound behind me.
I turned around and saw that Samuel was still there. He was standing in the doorway, gripping the frame so tightly.
His eyes held a jumble of emotions as he looked at me.
It was like he wanted to kill me, but also... like he was hurting inside?
Funny, he had all that money, so why did he look so sad?
"Emily, are you just faking it, or have you really forgotten what shame even is?" he asked.
I had no idea what "shame" was supposed to mean.
All I knew was that I had to hide my box—no matter what.
So, right in front of him, I hiked up my shirt and shoved the cold tin box against my belly, cinching my belt tight to keep it there.
"All hidden!" I gave him a silly grin. "Now nobody can steal it from me."
"You're insane!"
He glared at me, spat out the words, then bolted from the room like he couldn't escape fast enough.