Chapter 1

I worked as a volunteer at a local community service center.

That day, I was doing my usual job, handing out supplies to elderly residents.

During a break, I lost a game to my coworker.

I accepted it without complaint and joked, "Boss, you win."

When the break ended, I went back to work.

An older woman shuffled up to me, took her supplies, and said with a sour expression, "Young people are too lazy to get a decent job. You all pick easy jobs, taking care of old people. Shame on you."

I blinked, feeling insulted. "Sorry. What did you say?"

She said, "I heard it. That man is your boss. This position was supposed to be my son's. You used connections and stole it from him."

I almost laughed out of anger.

Because I called a coworker "boss", she thought I bribed my way into taking her son's position.

What she didn't know was that I was a volunteer. I wasn't paid a single cent.

*****

Winter break had started, and I signed up as a volunteer at the local community center to make my resume look better.

It was freezing out. Every day, I showed local seniors how to use their phones, explained scam prevention, and handed out supplies during the holidays.

At lunch, some seniors were getting supplies, so I kept distributing them while waiting for my coworker to bring me food.

I'd barely sat down for three seconds when an old woman named Dorothy Howell yanked me up. "I haven't gotten my stuff yet, and you're sitting already. That's kind of lazy.

"Get me a set of supplies. Now."

A sign clearly said the supplies were only for local residents 65 and older, and they had to show ID to pick them up.

She didn't look anywhere near 65 to me.

I thought she might be picking it up for someone else at home, so I said, "Today is the last day. If you don't have ID, I can wait a bit."

The chill had me trembling nonstop.

It technically ended at six today, but I stayed during lunch because I worried some seniors might only be finding out about it now.

Dorothy looked at me like I'd cracked a joke, and she looked annoyed. "Everyone else gets it directly. Why are you acting like some kind of authority figure?"

"Sorry, ma'am, but we need to check your ID first," I replied.

Seeing I wasn't budging, she finally let go of my arm and stomped off, muttering complaints under her breath.

I let out a quiet breath of relief.

It was my last day. If someone complained, I might not get the volunteer certificate, and a month of work would be wasted.

"Sadie, I brought you lunch." My coworker waved from afar with a lunchbox. "You promised. You lost the game last time, so you gotta call me boss."

I accepted it without complaint, picked up the drink, handed it to him, and said, "Alright, boss. Take a seat."

My coworker burst out laughing.

*****

The afternoon went pretty smoothly, and no one caused any issues.

A few minutes before my shift ended, Dorothy came back. This time, she brought a death certificate for a 70-year-old man.

I glanced at it for a moment, then handed it back to her. "Sorry, but we can't issue supplies to deceased individuals."

"Are you picking on me or something?" Dorothy snapped, her face sour. "Young people are too lazy to get a decent job. You all pick easy jobs, taking care of old people. Shame on you."

I blinked, feeling insulted. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I heard it. That man is your boss. This position was supposed to be my son's. You used connections and stole it from him," she said.

That made me remember I'd jokingly called my coworker "boss" at lunch.

No wonder she was picking a fight.

Because I called a coworker "boss", she thought I bribed my way into taking her son's position.

What she didn't know was that I was a volunteer. I wasn't paid a single cent.

Not only was I unpaid, but I often spent my own money to buy food for the seniors. I was nothing like what she claimed I was.

Since it was my last day, I forced myself to stay calm, even though I was fuming inside. "Ma'am, I think you've got the wrong idea. I'm only a volunteer. I don't get paid for this."

Dorothy scoffed, looked me up and down, then turned her head away.

Her look of disdain made my skin crawl.

It was cold, and most coworkers had already left. There was no one around. If we argued, I'd be the one losing out.

I went inside and looked around everywhere, but I couldn't find the bag of oranges for my parents.

Dorothy said, "Look, girl, if you won't let me have the supplies, then I'm gonna grab a bag of oranges, alright?"

Hearing that, I immediately ran out.

Dorothy slipped and dropped the whole bag of oranges all over the floor.

She gave the oranges a lazy kick. "Girl, you should be honest at work. Why are there rotten oranges in here?"

The oranges I was going to bring to my parents were all smashed by her.

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded, pointing at the smashed oranges on the floor, rage flaring up inside me.

No wonder I couldn't find them when I searched the room earlier. She had stolen them.

I said, "These oranges are mine. They're not community supplies."

"Stop putting on airs. Apologize to me," Dorothy shot back.

I crouched down and started picking up the oranges one by one, my fingers numb and red from the freezing air.

Dorothy stood there aggressively, filming me with her phone as if I had done something unforgivable.