Chapter 7: Cycles of Love and Loss

She rented a food truck near the school gate to sell breakfast burritos and help with expenses. She decorated it with streamers and a chalkboard menu—today’s special: sausage, egg, and cheese burritos—waking up before dawn to prep eggs and sausage. The smell of frying bacon drifted through the house every morning.

City High—what kind of place was that? It was a real elite scene. All the vanity and competition of the adult world was there, too. Half the students were top scorers; the other half were the city’s rich kids.

The parking lot was filled with BMWs and Teslas, kids wearing designer backpacks and AirPods. I felt like an outsider, always worried someone would find out about my family. My heart pounded every time I saw someone glance my way.

If classmates found out my mom was the one selling breakfast burritos, I’d be the butt of every joke. I imagined the whispers, the snickers, the social death. My stomach twisted every time I walked past her truck.

Unable to convince her, I made a deal with Linda.

I cornered her in the kitchen, voice trembling. “Please, don’t call me over. I won’t come to the truck, and you don’t call me in front of classmates. Please, Aunt Linda.” My hands shook as I spoke.

"Hmph, you heartless child, just study hard."

She grumbled but agreed. She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she understood. It was her way of letting me have some dignity.

The first year, we got along fine. She worked hard from dawn, while I focused on studying. Sometimes, I heard classmates praise her food.

"Jamie, the breakfast burritos at the gate are so good. Have you tried them?"

"Mm."

I didn’t dare admit or deny it. Among smart kids, every word had to be chosen carefully. To avoid exposure, Dad attended all the parent-teacher meetings. I watched from the back, heart pounding, praying nobody would connect the dots.

Maybe because my grades slipped, or because I feared being found out, I couldn’t get in the right headspace for a year. My grades were okay, but I’d lost my old champion edge. This anxiety made me treat Linda worse. I snapped at her for every little thing, picking fights over nothing. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop.

If she prepped ingredients late at night, I said she was too noisy. If she did chores on her day off, I said she was in my way. Whenever I was in a bad mood, it was always her fault. I slammed doors, rolled my eyes, muttered under my breath. I saw the hurt in her eyes, but I pretended not to care.

"You’re just under too much pressure. Don’t worry, we all believe in you."

Linda didn’t mind, just moved elsewhere to work quietly. At times like that, I found her both ridiculous and admirable. If there were awards, I’d give her ‘Best Actress.’ Even when Dad wasn’t around, she still played the part of a devoted stepmom. Not easy. She hummed to herself, cleaning up after me, never complaining. I watched her sometimes, a knot of admiration in my chest.

Senior year, I got a rich girl as my desk mate.

Her name was Madison, and she wore Chanel lip gloss and always had the latest iPhone. She had a confidence I envied. I watched her, wishing I could be that sure of myself.

"My dad says as long as I don’t get in trouble, it’s fine. I’m going to college in New York anyway. Exams are just for show."

At first, hearing that made me feel bad. Some things, no matter how hard you try, you can’t catch up with someone who takes a shortcut. But my desk mate was nice and treated me well. After seeing my shoes and lunches, she started feeding me all sorts of things.

She’d slide Nature Valley granola bars into my backpack, offer me bites of her fancy sushi, insist I try her organic dark chocolate. I pretended to protest, but I always accepted. I felt a little less invisible.

"Jamie, aren’t these sneakers cute? Let’s get a pair together."

She dragged me to the mall—Oakbrook Center—insisting I try on everything. I’d never had a friend like her before.

"Jamie, you don’t even have lipstick. Are you a cavewoman?"

She’d swipe gloss on my lips, laughing. I blushed, but secretly, I loved it.

"Jamie, my dad brought back this chocolate. I’m scared of gaining weight, so it’s all yours."

She winked, handing me the box. I took it, feeling both grateful and awkward.

It was a bit showy, but I always accepted without guilt.

I learned to say thank you, to let myself be spoiled, just a little.

"Jamie, are you free this weekend? I’ll take you to Chicago for a concert."

Before the first mock exam, my desk mate offered me a bad idea. Looking at her VIP tickets, my refusals grew weaker. After much hesitation, I made up an excuse and took the Amtrak to Chicago with her.

The city lights dazzled me. We ate deep-dish pizza, took selfies by the Bean, danced at the concert until our feet hurt. For a weekend, I felt free. I watched the skyline from the hotel window, imagining my future there. For the first time, I dreamed big.

But when I got home, I was dumbfounded. The test’s tricky questions, plus my lack of review, made me panic. I did terribly. Worse, the teacher said I’d taken leave to study at home.

My stomach dropped. I waited for the fallout, dreading what would come next. My hands shook as I opened the door.

"How could you do this to Aunt Linda? You’re too thoughtless."

Looking at the grown-up me, Dad was full of disappointment. His words stung more than any punishment. I felt small, exposed. Shame burned in my cheeks. I wanted to disappear.

"This time I won’t side with you. If you get grounded, don’t come crying to me."

With that, Dad hurried home. His footsteps echoed down the hall. I knew I’d messed up, but I didn’t know how to fix it.

Linda was out buying supplies and wasn’t home. To avoid her, I left before dawn. While waiting for school to open, Linda suddenly called out and dragged me from the student crowd. Her grip was strong, her face red with anger. She didn’t care who was watching. I felt a flush of embarrassment, eyes burning.

In our struggle, I blurted out our hidden mother-daughter relationship of two and a half years. The words tumbled out, louder than I meant. Heads turned. Whispers started. My breath caught in my throat as panic rose up.

In the crowd, there was shock, gossip, and whispers. I lost all face—instant social death. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the concrete. My secret was out, and there was no taking it back.

Ignoring my embarrassment, I broke free and rushed into school. I didn’t dare go to first period, hiding on the roof instead. The wind whipped my hair, my heart pounding. I stared at the city, wishing I could run away.

"Jamie, I knew you’d be here."

Behind me was my desk mate’s voice, but I didn’t dare turn around. It’s over. She was a privileged girl—now she’d look down on me. She sat beside me, legs dangling over the edge, her presence comforting.