Chapter 2

The next afternoon, I pulled up to the food truck alley on Campus Street.

I froze.

My cart was gone.

No—it had been shoved into the dirtiest corner of the alley, right next to the overflowing dumpsters.

Scribbled on the pavement in crooked chalk letters were four words:

"CROOK GET OUT"

Right next to it was a childish drawing of a face spitting.

Brenda had already set up her cart. She was currently hanging a bright sign that read "Today's Special."

When she caught me looking, she smirked.

This time, she didn't even bother pretending to be nice.

I pushed my cart against the trash heap and unfolded my prep table.

A few surrounding vendors glanced over, their expressions mixed.

Some looked sympathetic; others were clearly amused.

Nobody said a word.

I quietly went about prepping, but business was even worse than before.

I only sold one basket of fries all afternoon, and that was just out of pure pity.

Crouching behind my counter peeling potatoes, I tried not to look at the massive line queued up across the alley.

"Oh, Lauren, dear."

Brenda waddled over carrying a plastic bowl, wearing a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Haven't eaten yet, have you? I simmered some stew this morning, so I brought you a bowl."

She shoved the container right toward my face.

A foul, sour stench hit my nostrils immediately.

It was scorching hot outside. Leaving stew made this morning out in the sun meant it was completely spoiled.

"Thanks, Brenda, but I'm good. I packed something."

"Oh, don't be shy with me!"

Her voice suddenly jumped up a few octaves. "You're a single mom raising a sick boy, it's not easy! My heart just aches for you."

Every college student waiting in line turned their heads to watch.

"Man, Auntie Brenda is so sweet."

"Right? After all the nasty crap Lauren said about her, she's still bringing her food."

"Talk about taking the high road."

Brenda’s eyes welled up with theatrical tears.

"We're all just trying to survive out here. Why hold grudges?"

"Lauren, honey, I don't blame you for what happened before."

She pushed the bowl even closer.

I smiled, reaching out to take it.

"Thank you, Brenda."

The sour rot flared in my nose. I held the bowl, not moving an inch.

Brenda stared me down.

"Go on, drink it while it's hot."

"I'll have it in a bit. Gotta finish prepping first."

"Look at you... are you looking down on an old lady's cooking?"

Her voice trembled with hurt, and the students began whispering among themselves.

"Lauren is such an ungrateful bitch."

"Seriously, Brenda brings her hot food and she turns her nose up at it."

I took a deep breath, raised the container, and took a sip.

The rancid, curdled sourness exploded on my tongue.

My stomach heaved. Fighting the urge to vomit violently, I forced it down my throat.

"Delicious," I said, smiling up at her.

Brenda blinked in total disbelief, clearly not expecting me to actually drink it.

"G-Good... glad you like it," she muttered awkwardly before turning away.

The second her back was turned, I gagged, swallowing the bitter bile in my mouth, and dumped the entire bowl straight into the dumpster behind me.

Once the afternoon rush died down and the students headed back to class, the street quieted.

Wiping my hands, I pulled out my phone and pretended to take a selfie.

I angled the camera directly at Brenda’s cart.

She was unpacking a fresh shipment of meat. A few duck legs were sticking out from a plastic bag.

Their skins had an eerie, greenish tint.

I snapped several photos in quick succession.

Zooming in, the patches of green mold were unmistakable.

She always got deliveries on Tuesdays, and she never prepped them properly on the same day.

She'd wait until the mold was far worse before doing anything about it.

Actually, she never threw any of it away.

In my past life, she had bragged to me that you just scrape off the fuzzy layer and fry the rest—nobody could ever tell the difference.

I pocketed my phone.

Right then, it buzzed.

It was St. Jude Children’s Hospital.

"Ms. Hall? We just got Toby’s latest lab results back."

"His cardiac markers aren't looking good. We strongly recommend scheduling the surgery immediately. If you wait another month, the risk profile spikes dramatically."

"How is the fundraising coming along?"

I checked my banking app.

Eight hundred and forty-six dollars.

"I'm working on it."

"Please hurry, Ms. Hall. The boy doesn't have much time."