The smell of fried chicken hit me the moment I walked back into the dorm.
My roommates were huddled together over takeout, the table covered in cola, fried chicken, and pizza.
"Clem, you're back! Want a piece?" one of them offered casually.
I stared at the golden, crispy chicken. My throat bobbed involuntarily, and my stomach churned with acid.
But my pockets were emptier than my pride. I couldn't scrape together fifty cents for a bread roll.
"No thanks, I already ate."
I couldn't even look at them. I climbed into my bunk, yanked the curtain shut, and curled up in the cramped darkness.
In the dark, hunger swallowed me like a rising tide.
I felt around my empty pockets, and for the first time, I understood what true, bone-deep despair felt like.
It had been a full day and night since I'd last eaten.
I scrolled through every contact in my phone, but there was no one I could ask for money. All I'd ever had was my meal card, and now even that was gone. What could I possibly offer to pay anyone back?
The last shred of dignity I had wouldn't let me beg.
I clenched my jaw, climbed out of bed, and stumbled out through the campus gates.
I remembered the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the alley behind the school. Last month, when my meal card balance had run low, I'd eaten a bowl of noodles there on credit. Later, I earned thirty dollars filling in for someone's class and paid it back the first chance I got.
It was the only place I could think of.
I pushed open the glass door. It was the dinner rush, and the restaurant buzzed with noise and chatter.
The owner was busy clearing tables. When she spotted me standing ghost-white in the doorway, she froze.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing here at this hour? You look terrible."
I gripped the hem of my shirt so hard my nails nearly broke the skin. My voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Ma'am... could I do some work? Washing dishes, bussing tables, anything. I just want to earn a bowl of noodles."
The moment those words left my mouth, my cheeks burned so hot I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Rosa stared at me for two seconds, then slapped the rag in her hand onto the counter, marched over, and pushed me down into the nearest empty seat by the kitchen.
"Sit."
She dropped the word like an order and disappeared into the back.
Less than five minutes later, a massive, steaming bowl of braised beef noodles appeared in front of me. The beef was piled high like a small mountain, topped with two perfectly fried eggs, their yolks golden and glistening.
"Eat!" Rosa shoved a pair of chopsticks into my hand. Her voice was gruff, almost scolding, but her eyes were full of nothing but ache. "Look at you, half-starved. You want to work here, you need the strength for it. Finish this first!"
In that moment, every wall I'd built inside myself collapsed.
Tears fell in fat drops, splashing into the broth, sending tiny ripples through the oil on the surface.
My mother had cut off my food to funnel everything to my sister, trying to force me to grovel. And here was this woman, no relation to me at all, giving me an extra-large bowl of beef noodles at the lowest point of my life.
I shoveled noodles into my mouth, barely stopping even though they scalded my tongue raw.
Rosa sighed beside me and lowered her voice.
"Listen, sweetheart. Whenever you need money, you come work for me. Lunch and dinner shifts. I'll feed you both meals, and I'll pay you fifty dollars cash at the end of each day. Sound good?"
Fifty dollars. Cash in hand.
I nodded frantically, mumbling "thank you" around a mouthful of noodles.
The second I finished eating, I tied on an apron and got to work. Carrying plates, wiping down tables. I moved faster than anyone.
I was turning with a bowl of beef noodles in my hands when I nearly collided with someone who had just walked in.
"Careful!"
A hand steadied me.
I looked up and met a pair of startled eyes.
"Clementine?"
It was my counselor, Tracey Finch. She had a folder of lesson plans in her hand. She'd clearly just finished class and come in for dinner.
