I Stole a Bone to Survive and Built My Own Empir

Everyone agreed on one thing: I was the unwanted kid. My parents divorced when I was small. My father vanished, my mother remarried, and the only person who ever cared for me, my grandmother, passed away. The year she died, she left me a run-down shack and exactly $214.37. I survived on the kindness of neighbors to walk out of the deep country, and I financed my education with student loans. During my internship, I worked myself into the ground and secured a decent job, which turned into a full-time position upon graduation. I’ve been hustling ever since. This year, with the final holiday bonus check, I finally paid off every last debt. I had saved my very first nest egg. As the clock struck midnight and the fireworks exploded outside, ushering in the New Year, I made a promise to myself. My rotten life was over. The good one? It was finally my turn.

1 The day they buried my grandmother, everyone in Black Creek assumed my mother would take me with her. After all, I was only thirteen. In this world, outside of her, I had no one left. I thought so too. I packed my worn backpack and stood by the door, waiting for her to tell me it was time. Instead, she shouldered her suitcase, walked straight past me, and boarded the Greyhound bus. She didn’t look back until the bus vanished around the last dusty bend in the road. It was as if my arrangements—my life—had never once crossed her mind during her entire visit. I walked back into the small, dimly lit house and, by pure instinct, called out: “Grandma, I feel sick.” The house answered with a dead, hollow silence. That was the moment the realization hit me: Grandma was buried under the cold, hard dirt. From now on, I was the only thing breathing in this house. Fear, cold and sharp, rushed in like a tidal wave. What was I supposed to do? I sat on the front porch stoop all night. When the sun finally rose, I grabbed my backpack and went to school. My eighth-grade history teacher, a kind woman from the city, once told me that education was the only road out of the mountains. If my mother wouldn’t take me, I would walk myself. My classmates looked at me strangely. “Why are you still here, June?” “Are you really just… alone?” I didn’t want their pity, and I definitely didn’t want their mocking faces. I stood taller than my five feet and lied loudly. “Mom says pulling me out of Northwood Middle now would mess up the transfer credits. I’ll finish eighth grade here, then she’s moving me to the city.” It was a dignified lie. It sealed their lips. Life had to continue. I learned to build a fire in the old iron stove and cook for myself. I learned to haul water from the well to water the meager vegetable patch. I survived day after day on the last of Grandma’s flour and the sweet potatoes from the field. Until one night, I heard the sound of shattering porcelain from next door. My neighbor, Bella, was crying, and her father was yelling. They were fighting over the $100 needed for her GED study materials. I huddled against the wall, listening, a creeping dread chilling me to the bone. In two years, I would be going to high school. High school was in the county seat, and it wasn’t free. I had to pay tuition and buy books. If I couldn’t come up with the money, would I be stuck here? What then? Bella gave me the answer. The next morning, before the sun cracked the horizon, she was gone. She carried the faded backpack that used to hold her textbooks. Today, it held her few clothes. She was heading south to work in a construction site—to earn money for her family, specifically the money for her younger brother’s eventual wedding down-payment. Watching her silhouette disappear into the fog felt like a raw wound inside me. I couldn’t follow her path. I wanted to read. I needed to learn. But where would the money come from? The $214.37 Grandma left wouldn’t last the year. The only person who could help was my mother, Brenda. I remembered the time my little brother, Caleb, hugged my stepfather, Roy, begging for a new remote-control truck after getting a perfect score on a quiz. Mom’s eyes crinkled with love, and the next day, he had the most expensive toy on the market. What if I got a perfect score? What if I was the top student in the entire school? Would Mom, just for the sake of appearances among the extended family, throw a little tuition money my way? It was a lifeline, and I grabbed it with both hands. I attacked my books like a madwoman that semester. I studied during class, and at night, I did problem sets by candlelight. When I felt my eyes close, I pinched myself hard. At the final exams, I really did earn the top spot. The villagers were stunned. “The wild child with no oversight, pulling first place?” “Working the field and hitting the books—the girl’s got fire in her bones.” Marge Dawson, the mayor’s wife, a kind neighbor, leaned on the fence, cracking sunflower seeds. “Take that award to your mom, June. Maybe she’ll finally buy you a new coat for Christmas.” I looked down at myself. I was wearing Grandma’s patched-up, black denim jacket. The sleeves were frayed at the cuffs, the lining peeking out. I hadn’t had a new item of clothing since I was six, before Caleb was born, when Mom used to bring me a bright red dress for the holidays. It was long gone now. I had relied on hand-me-downs from cousins for years. But Grandma’s death had severed those family ties, too. I was facing the winter wrapped only in a dead woman’s clothes. As the holidays approached, the migrant workers started coming home. Bella returned, too, looking polished and wearing expensive-looking clothes. I spent every afternoon waiting beneath the old oak tree at the edge of the village. 2 On Christmas Eve, the snow was thick and heavy. My fingers and toes were numb. My eyelashes were covered in ice crystals. Finally, I saw a familiar, yet distant figure walking toward me, trudging through the snow. She was leading a small, neatly dressed boy. “June? Wake up.” My eyes snapped open. A blast of icy wind rushed down my collar. There was no mother. No brother. No new clothes. Only Bella’s anxious face. It had been a fever dream. I had been squatting too long in the cold and had caught a nasty bug. Bella sighed, pushing a few white pills into my hand. “Take these. For the fever. You can’t die out here, June. No one will even know to look.” I swallowed the bitter pills and looked out at the distant mountain range. “Bella, is the outside world beautiful?” Her eyes flashed with a brief, painful light before darkening. “For the rich, it’s gorgeous. Neon lights and endless parties.” “But for us? It’s shift work, assembly lines, and aching feet. Still better than begging the dirt for a living, though.” She looked at me, her expression serious. “June, don’t bother with high school. Come back to the construction site with me. They’re hiring, and they pay for room and board.” I clutched the rough fabric of Grandma’s jacket and shook my head. “I want to read. I want to go to school.” Bella chuckled, a dry sound. “With what money? No cash, no classroom, June.” I dropped my gaze. I didn’t want the construction site. Every girl who went to the construction site from our village came back two years later to marry and have kids. Bella was the same. The man she brought back would be her fiancé after the New Year. Once a girl married here, she was trapped. I refused to accept that fate. I wouldn’t trade one cage for another. Seeing my silence, Bella sighed again and walked back home. On New Year’s Eve, the sound of firecrackers shook the village. I sat alone in the empty house until the night was black, but my mother never showed. The last of the rice was gone. My stomach burned with a hunger that felt like fire. The scent of BBQ drifted over from the neighbor’s house, hooking into my soul like a claw. I pushed the door open and stumbled out. In the alley, a mangy stray was hunched over, tearing at a piece of bone with strips of gristle and meat still clinging to it. I stared at that bone. My throat tightened. I couldn’t stop the saliva from pooling in my mouth. My rational mind screamed at me that it was dog food. But instinct drove me. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then lunged forward, snatching the bone right out of the dog’s mouth. “June? What in God’s name—!” Marge Dawson, the mayor’s wife, had come out with a bucket of slops and saw the entire thing. I froze, the saliva-coated bone still gripped in my hand. My face was instantly on fire. I threw the bone back down in a panic, desperate for a hole to swallow me whole. Marge stood there for a long moment, then sighed, a sound heavy with sorrow. She went back inside and returned with a large bowl heaped with smashed potatoes, topped with a slab of sausage. “Eat,” she commanded. I forgot all pride and dignity, taking the bowl and devouring the food. After I ate, Marge led me straight to the mayor’s house. “This child has been alone for nearly six months, Mayor. I checked her pantry today—it’s empty. What is she going to do? You have to figure something out.” Mayor Dawson studied me, his face etched with concern. Finally, he spoke: “I’ll call her mother to come get her.” My heart seized up. I immediately stood straighter. What would Mom say when she picked up the phone? 3 The mayor dialed the number, but a moment later, the loud, tinny voice of the automated service filled the room: “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service…” I stood there, stunned. My mother had changed her number. She had finally, irrevocably, cut the cord. The mayor put the phone down, looking troubled. “June, the Township Aid funds are limited.” “We have elderly folks who would starve without it. You don’t have local ties, and you’re an out-of-towner; the money… it’s hard to justify.” The room fell into a heavy silence. Finally, Marge spoke up. “Tell you what. If this girl agrees, she can come to my house every day for a bowl of smashed potato and gravy, and then she can visit the other homes for a side dish of vegetables or meat.” “There are dozens of families in this village. We won’t let her starve.” I sank to my knees and bowed my head to the floor. “Thank you, Ma’am. I will.” As long as I could live, as long as I could study, I would beg. For the next year, I carried my container through every alley and to every kitchen door. I learned to read faces. When someone was reluctant, I would politely accept the bread and eat it alone. By the time the next New Year came, I had learned not to expect anything. My life was a cycle of books and begging. On the day the high school acceptance letters were posted, my hands were shaking as I held the envelope. I got into the best high school in the county. But I couldn’t smile. Tuition plus room and board was over two thousand dollars a year. For a girl who survived on handouts, it was an astronomical sum. I sat on the stoop, staring at the letter. Give up? Never. Just as I ran out of hope, my mother came back. 4 My mother, Brenda, set down her suitcase and looked me over. “I can’t believe how tall you’ve gotten,” she said flatly. No matter how high I had built the walls around my heart, hearing that one familiar sentence caused them to crumble. Tears poured down my cheeks. I rushed over and wrapped my arms around her waist, trying to expel two years of loneliness and hurt in one massive sob. “Mom, I missed you so much.” Her body went rigid. She neither pushed me away nor hugged me back. When I finished crying, I wiped my eyes. My hand trembled as I pulled the warm, folded acceptance letter from my jacket pocket. “Mom, I got into the best high school.” “Could you… lend me the tuition? I promise, I’ll pay you back double when I start working.” She took the letter, glanced at it, and her face tightened. “What’s a girl need books for? Girls who read too much get ideas, and what good is an idea when you’re just going to settle down and raise a family?” A wave of cold dread washed over me. I stared at her, disbelieving. She lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “I’m here to sell your grandmother’s shack. Your brother needs a down-payment for a starter home in a good school district.” “Money’s tight, June. You’re grown up now. It’s time to help out.” “Pack your things. My boss at the textile mill needs hands. I told him about you, and he agreed to hold a spot.” She hadn’t come back to help me read. She had come back to sell my inheritance to finance my brother’s education and then sell me into construction site labor. I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat. “I won’t go! I’m going to school!” My mother’s brow furrowed into a tight knot. She slapped her hand on the table. “You won’t go to the construction site? What, are you going to be a princess? Where do you think I’ll get the cash to indulge you?” I froze, completely helpless. The yard gate suddenly flew open. Marge Dawson strode in and immediately pointed a finger at my mother. “Brenda, have you no shame?” “This child grew up here like a stray dog, and you didn’t check on her once. Now you think she can earn a wage, you remember you have a daughter?” My mother scoffed, flicking her cigarette ash. “All the girls around here end up in the construction site. It’s the way of things.” Marge gave a nasty laugh. “But the other girls weren’t eating my pot roast!” “Other workers send money home. You disappear the moment your own mother dies. You just waited for this child to grow big enough to become your cash cow, didn’t you?” Marge planted herself in front of me, like an angry old hen protecting her chick. “You want to take her? Fine. Pay me back two years of food and support. I won’t charge interest. Just two thousand dollars.” My mother angrily stubbed out the cigarette, her face pinched. “I don’t have that kind of money right now.” Marge pointed to the door. “Then get out!” Neighbors, drawn by the yelling, started to gather, whispering and pointing fingers. My mother’s face turned the color of beet-red. She shot me a look of pure hatred, grabbed her suitcase, and scurried away. Watching her retreating back, I burst into tears again. Marge knelt down, patting my back. “June, don’t blame me for running off your mother.” I shook my head, wiping my face. “I don’t blame you, Ma’am. She was the one who abandoned me first.” In that moment, I finally accepted the cold, hard fact: I was an unwanted child. Marge sighed, looking at the acceptance letter in my hand, her face full of worry. “But June, I can’t help you with the tuition either.” “This village relies on what the land gives us. We only bring in about six thousand a year. Your uncle, the mayor, gives most of that to the families who need it more.” I stopped crying, my mind a terrifying blank. The tuition. Two thousand dollars. It was enough to crush an adult, and it was certainly enough to crush a thirteen-year-old girl. Just then, Bella came out of her house. She leaned against the doorframe and said in a low voice: “I have a way. It just depends on whether you’re willing to go through with it.”