Chapter 5: Weddings and Wishes

I wanted to find a part-time job during Thanksgiving, but since I was under sixteen, no one would hire me. In the end, I found a job passing out flyers—thirty bucks a day.

I walked the strip mall for hours, handing out coupons to bored shoppers. My feet ached, but I held onto that thirty like it was a winning lottery ticket.

Derek was fine; he found a job too—catching people who posted flyers.

I couldn’t believe it when he told me. Only Derek could land a job busting people like me and still get paid more for it.

I worked half a day, got caught by Derek, and got a lecture. When we finished, I got thirty bucks, and Derek got forty-five.

He caught me red-handed by the hardware store and gave me the world’s worst fake scolding, grinning the whole time. I rolled my eyes, but I was grateful—at least I didn’t get in real trouble.

I looked at my thirty, then at his forty-five. He raised his eyebrows and pocketed his cash.

He waved his money in my face, showing off. I just stuck my tongue out at him, not really mad. It was nice to have someone to tease, someone on my side.

I hesitated, then handed him my thirty. “Derek, let me treat you to a meal.”

He blinked in surprise, his bravado melting away. For a second, he just stared at me, then grinned and took the cash like it was a sacred offering.

He froze, then took the money. At the entrance to Derek’s neighborhood, we went to a diner: two bowls of noodles, a plate of steamed dumplings, a plate of rolls—fifteen bucks.

We sat at the counter, slurping noodles and laughing about our dumb jobs. The waitress topped off our waters and winked at us like we were regulars.

I can’t remember the rest, just that I was really full that day.

For once, I left food on my plate, stomach so full I thought I might pop. Derek teased me, saying I’d finally met my match.

Thanksgiving ran into the weekend. I worked part-time for six days, and after paying for that meal, I earned a total of $165. When school started, I was happiest because my scholarship finally came through.

I stood in line at the bursar’s office, clutching my paperwork and grinning like an idiot. When the check finally hit my account, I wanted to shout for joy.

I scraped together $400, counting it over and over.

I spread the bills across my bed, smoothing them flat, memorizing the color and smell of money earned by my own hands.

Later, I borrowed Derek’s phone. He asked me why.

He tossed it over without a second thought, the passcode already unlocked. He trusted me, maybe more than I trusted myself.

“My high school tuition was borrowed from my neighbor’s older sister. I have to pay her back.”

He looked at me sideways, his brow furrowed, but didn’t ask any more questions.

He was puzzled. “How much do you owe?”

He sounded more worried than I expected, but I just shrugged.

“Three hundred.”

I rattled off the number like it was nothing, but it felt like the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders.

After paying her back, I had a hundred left—enough for a month, and I could look for more part-time work on weekends.

I held onto that last hundred like it was a magic ticket. It meant I could keep going, at least for a little while longer.

I felt so much better, I even bought myself a new backpack. The old one was tattered and tied together with three or four knots. The new one, bought online for eight bucks, was big and could hold a lot.

It was navy blue, with bright yellow zippers, the kind I’d always wanted but never dared ask for. It looked like every other kid’s in the hallway. For once, I didn’t have to hide mine under my desk. I stuffed it full of books and snacks, feeling like maybe I belonged at school after all.

That day, Derek looked at me and sighed. He was my desk partner, and later, he still often brought me food, saying his mom always made too much, so bringing an extra portion didn’t matter.

He’d shrug and slide a sandwich my way, never making a big deal out of it. Sometimes, he’d even stick a Post-it note inside with a doodle—a smiley face, or once, a lopsided turkey.

Derek was a really good person, and his mom was wonderful too. Because after Thanksgiving, every meal Derek brought me had a fried egg on top—the kind sprinkled with chives just for me.

I didn’t tell her, but I knew she must have noticed how skinny I was. That little extra felt like a secret handshake, just between us.

One weekend, Derek asked, “Are you going home this week?”

He looked up from his phone, trying to sound casual, but I could hear the worry in his voice.

I shook my head. “My mom won’t let me.”

He didn’t press, just nodded like he expected it.

“Perfect. Pack up this afternoon and come to my place.”

He said it with a grin, tossing me an apple like it was no big thing. I caught it, suddenly light on my feet.

...

Our school had a strict 6-9-6 schedule: classes from six in the morning to nine at night, six days a week. After class on Saturday afternoon, our Sunday finally began. I packed my bag at five and left with Derek.

The school parking lot was already half-empty, the sun slipping behind the football field bleachers. I stuffed my books into my new backpack, zipped it tight, and fell in step beside Derek as we walked toward the bus stop.

Only then did I find out, Derek’s cousin’s family was getting married, and the preparations started the night before.

He explained everything while we waited for the bus, his breath fogging in the cold air. I listened, half-nervous, half-excited for something new.

I helped Derek with chores at night. Afterward, we ate from a big communal pot, and at night I slept with his cousin.

The house was buzzing with relatives—uncles shouting over the football game, aunts gossiping in the kitchen. I tried to help out, but mostly just followed Derek around, soaking it all in.

I woke up in the middle of the night and found Derek sitting in the living room playing games. I walked over, and when he saw me, he put down his phone.

He was hunched over the arm of the couch, tapping away at some puzzle game. When he noticed me, he stuffed his phone under a pillow, cheeks flushed like I’d caught him doing something embarrassing.

“What’s up?”

I whispered, not wanting to wake the others. The house creaked in the wind.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

He shrugged, stretching his arms over his head.

“Can’t sleep...”

He looked up at the ceiling like he expected answers to fall from the light fixture.

“Why?”

He scratched his head and sighed. “My mom wants me to study abroad. She says with my grades, I won’t amount to much if I stay here.”

He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear. I sat down beside him, unsure what to say.

After that, he looked down at his phone. I knew not to pry, but that night, lying in bed, I couldn’t help but think: When Derek leaves, who will I ask for food when I’m hungry?

I stared at the dark ceiling, my heart heavy. The world felt too big, too uncertain. But for now, at least, Derek was here, and that was enough.

The next day, we got up early to help fetch the bride. I rode in a car with Derek’s cousin. It was a backyard wedding—white folding chairs, mason jar centerpieces, barbecue smoke curling over the lawn. The bride had bright eyes and white teeth, wearing a white dress and a flower crown.

She looked like something out of a fairytale, her dress swirling as she twirled in the front yard. The bridesmaids giggled, passing around bouquets. I watched, mesmerized, wishing I could stay in this moment forever.

I was stunned until the bride’s mother handed me a Visa gift card with snowflakes on it, slipped into a red-and-green envelope. Only then did I realize why Derek wanted me there. The girls helping fetch the bride each got a $30 gift card, and there was plenty of good food.

The tables groaned under platters of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. I piled my plate high, my mouth watering at the sight of pie and pecan bars.

That day, Derek was a groomsman—tall, long-legged, in a suit, even his hair neatly combed.

He looked every bit the grown-up, nervously tugging at his tie. His mom snapped pictures, proud as a peacock.

I chewed candy and watched him stand on stage. Later, he came down and waved at me. I ran over, and he stuffed a handful of chocolates into my hand.

He grinned, leaning in like we were sharing a secret. I stuffed the chocolates into my purse, cheeks aching from smiling.

“Come on, backpack and all, I’ll take you backstage for snacks...”

He started to lead me toward the kitchen, pausing to check if anyone was watching.

Before he finished, he looked at me and laughed.

He doubled over, shaking his head, then straightened up, eyes sparkling.

“Who did your hair and makeup? This little puffy dress and two buns—you look like you’re trying out for a video game character.”

He teased me, nudging my shoulder. I rolled my eyes, but secretly I loved the attention.

“Who?”

“Just someone from a game. But really, not bad.”

He winked. I shrugged, not getting the joke, but happy all the same.

I didn’t get it. I just opened a chocolate and chewed away.

The chocolate melted on my tongue, sweet and sticky. For a moment, I forgot about everything else.