Chapter 2

That night, Dad came into my room, trying to get me to understand Mom. He went on and on about how tough things have been for them.

I stayed quiet, working on my homework.

Dad looked a bit awkward. Before heading out, he promised they'd treat me and my siblings equally from now on.

My pen paused for a second, and against my better judgment, a tiny spark of hope flickered to life.

But the next morning, I woke up to an empty house. Without hesitation, I smacked myself fiercely.

From that day on, I stopped expecting anything from my parents.

I rummaged through the fridge—nothing but a half-eaten cake from last night.

Winnie was always in the hospital, and my parents were there with her. Lucas was staying with Grandma in a poor town, while I was at boarding school. So, we hardly ever cooked at home, and there wasn't any food.

Mom was worried I'd go astray, so she never gave me cash. My allowance went straight onto my school meal card. If I needed to buy daily necessities, I'd trade some meal card credit with my neighbor, Yolanda Goodman, for cash.

Since coming home to an empty house happened all the time, I usually stocked up on instant food before I got back.

But that big strawberry cake had knocked every practical thought out of my head.

I felt like a dummy, mesmerized by that cake and forgetting the instant food—my ride-and-die through countless lonely weekends.

So yeah, I brought this on myself.

It was a seven-day break, and all I had was just an empty fridge. Regret was eating me alive, and I wished I could rewind time.

I had no choice but to head to Yolanda's place. Over these years, whenever my parents forgot about me, I'd survive by crashing at her place and bumming meals.

I knocked and knocked, but nobody answered. I checked my phone, only to find Yolanda had texted me earlier—her whole family had gone on vacation.

I was done for now.

I stretched that palm-sized chunk of cake out for the whole day.

The next day, I tore the house apart and only managed to find a pack of candies that looked like they'd been there forever.

The wrapper was beat up, and the candies inside had melted into a sticky mess, glued to the paper. It was like Lucas's snot—just looking at it killed my appetite. Instantly, I tossed it in the trash.

But by nighttime, I was so starving that I fished those candies back out of the garbage and even licked the wrapper clean.

Hunger hit hard. I scraped by two more days on just water. But by the fourth day, I was so famished that my vision started to blur. I even caught myself thinking about digging through the trash on the streets.

It was strange, really. I could never figure out my damn pride.

I'd rather go dumpster diving than let my friends or classmates see how pathetic things were for me. I'd rather starve than ask them for money.

I never knew how to explain it, and I was terrified of their questions—even if it was just a casual—"Where are your parents?"

I just couldn't bring myself to say anything.

Desperate and starving, I suddenly remembered the apple trees in the neighborhood. They were starting to bear fruit, though they were super tiny.

I bolted out the door, scrambled up an apple tree in seconds, and grabbed an apple.

But as I was coming down, Mary from the second floor spotted me and yelled, "Dear lord, kid!"

Startled, I slipped and tumbled down.

Mary shook her head. "Oh, you poor thing. You gotta watch where you're going, or you wouldn't have fallen."

If she hadn't shouted like that, I probably would've made it down in one piece.

Good thing I was built tough—I didn't get hurt. I bounced up, made sure nothing was broken, and went to pick up my apple, beaming.

"Come on, we're having ribs tonight. Let's get some real food in you," Mary said. She grabbed my hand and wouldn't take no for an answer.

I was drooling already, but I still put on the same fake politeness as those adults always did.

After pretending to refuse a couple of times, I finally, a bit embarrassed, tagged along after Mary to her place

I swore those ribs were the best I'd ever had in my life.

The meat was cooked just right, tender and falling off the bone, with a hint of fresh onion.

Before I even took a bite, I was already swallowing hard, trying to keep my drool in check.

I wanted to play it cool, but my hunger just took over.

If I could've managed it, I probably would've swallowed the bones whole.

Mary kept piling food on my plate.

I didn't turn anything down—ate every last bite she gave me.

I scarfed down three bowls of oatmeal, a big bowl of rib soup, and a plate of scrambled eggs. By then, my common sense finally kicked in, and I set down my fork.

Mary tried to give me more, but I kept shaking my head. I was so full that the food was practically up to my throat—there was just no way I could eat another bite.

Mary's husband stared at me in disbelief, eyes wide. He said it was the first time he'd ever seen a girl who could eat so much.

Now that I was full, my sense of shame finally caught up with me, and I started to feel a bit embarrassed.

As I was leaving, I still clung to that tiny apple—who knew, I might have to rely on it to get through the next few days.

"Oh, sweetie, that apple is sour. It's not worth eating," Mary said, shaking her head.

While scolding me for climbing the tree, she kept stuffing fruit and snacks into my arms.

Honestly, Mary's place was packed with goodies.

The fruit basket was so full of oranges and apples that they were about to spill out, and under the coffee table were several big jars of chocolate, milk candies, and wafer cookies.

Mary grumbled on and on about how she and her husband didn't even like sweets, but her kids always brought over huge bags of treats whenever they visited.

Her lips, however, had never turned downward once.

Hunger must've unlocked my inner sweet talker. I laid every praise I could think of on her—I had no idea I could butter someone up so well.

Mary ended up giving me a giant bag of snacks.

With tears in my eyes, I carried all that food home—it was like I'd come back to life.

But stepping out of Mary's warm apartment and into my own empty house, the loneliness hit me all at once. I clutched that big bag of snacks and fell asleep right there in the living room.