Chapter 2

Fern frowned, turned, and grabbed her father's arm.

"Is Bella only saying all this because she won't forgive me?"

"But I was just joking with her! I really never thought she'd get so angry!"

The man froze for a second, then instantly threw the card I'd torn up into the trash.

"Bella, you're really something! You've even taught her the 'playing hard to get' trick!"

"If you don't want it, then don't expect any of it from now on! Don't think things will be the way they used to be!"

"When you make a mistake, you fix it—that goes for you and your mother both!"

Watching the two of them walk away, I picked up a branch from the ground and dragged it hard across my dad's car, leaving a deep scratch.

My mom always said that if someone bullies you, you fight back, even if it leaves you bloody.

That night, I dragged my heavy body home.

But when I opened the door, the place was full of rice, flour, and cooking oil, and set gently on the table were all the things my mother had borrowed from the neighbors over the years.

Three bags of flour for the guy downstairs, two bottles of vinegar for Rosemary upstairs...

These past two years, they'd all grown wary of lending to my family. Whenever they saw us, they steered clear of us like we were bad luck.

But when we were truly at rock bottom, the neighbors couldn't bring themselves to let us actually go hungry.

Early the next morning, my mother took me door to door to return everything.

After the last house, we had three hundred dollars left out of four thousand.

My mom didn't say a word; she just took me to the pizzeria our whole family used to go to most.

The moment we walked in, my eyes were pulled to the photo of my dad and Fern up on the couples' wall.

The clerk explained warmly, "This couple has come in and eaten here ninety-nine times."

"To thank our customers, we put their photo up here specially—we hope they last a long, long time!"

The hand holding mine suddenly trembled.

And out of nowhere I remembered the very first meal that skinny, dark-skinned poor student had when she first arrived.

My mom took her out for pizza and taught her how to use a knife and fork with her own hands.

My dad had even gotten jealous over it back then, and the whole family teased him about it for ages.

My heart went stiff, and before I could pull myself together, my mother smiled, picked up a marker from the counter, and wrote the number 99 under the photo.

Through the whole meal, none of us brought up the photo again.

Until my mom's best friend's phone call suddenly came through:

"Aren't you broke? There's a job—will you take it?"

"Fern and Nathaniel are having their wedding next month, and he specifically asked me to invite you to be the girl's bridesmaid."

"It'd be perfect to have Philippa as a flower girl too! Twenty thousand dollars for the whole wedding!"

"If you ask me, don't turn it down. If it were me, I wouldn't be kind enough to let the person who made me miscarry come to my wedding!"

My heart clenched, and I was about to grab the phone and hang up.

But my mom seemed like a completely different person: "I'll take it!"

A puzzled voice came from the other end:

"Bella, you're actually taking it? You've really got some nerve."

"Fine, I'll send you the schedule later."

My heart felt like a deflated balloon. This woman used to be my mom's closest friend.

They shopped together, bought clothes together, even picked up and dropped off the kids together.

My eyes stung, and I quietly asked my mom why.

"From now on I can go without pizza, and I won't spend much money."

"Just don't let yourself be wronged everywhere you go anymore."

My mom just smiled.

"For someone who's truly let go, what is there to feel wronged about?"

But that night, when we got home, my mother fell ill again.