One-Cut Queen

Eli. In my world, you learn two things fast: h

omach twisting. I wasn't hungry for food. No

shed potatoes onto Nate' s tray. Nate was a football player, a jock, a friend of the golden boy,

ver figh

atoes so small it was almost transparent. He looked at his tray,

rk, a kid from my algebra

he whispered, his e

per across the table. It was his algebra homework, perf

is own lunch tray toward me. On it sat a pristine chocolate pudd

n't a friendly exchange. It was a transact

sagging house that smelled like stale beer and di

daytime TV show. My father was in his chair, stari

ce," my mother said to the TV. "Co

igh school athlete they thought was going to the NFL. All their

grunted from his chair. "The go

t, calculating look. I knew what it meant. It meant I

Nothing in this house was secure. Under my loose floorb

r bills and coins, earned from homework and other small h

ary. Every single cent was a step further away from this house

yet. But it would be.