Chapter 4

By eleven that night, I finally packed up.

I’d made two sales all day.

Sixteen bucks total.

I lost money just buying the cooking oil.

I pushed my heavy cart down the dark street, clothes still damp and clinging uncomfortably to my skin, shivering against the night chill.

"Excuse me! Miss!"

A voice called out from behind.

I turned around.

A girl wearing round glasses and clutching a tote bag came jogging up to me.

"Wait, please!"

She stopped, catching her breath. "I saw them throw that dirty water on you earlier."

Her voice dropped to an anxious whisper. "I... I know you're not like that."

My chest tightened.

"I've actually been watching her cart for days," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Her turkey legs are completely shady. The color is off, and they smell weird."

"My roommate ate one last week and had severe food poisoning for three days, but nobody believed her."

I stared at her, silent.

"I want to help you," the girl said firmly. "I'll keep tabs on her. If she pulls anything else, I'll document every single thing."

I opened my mouth, but a lump in my throat choked back the words.

"Aren't... aren't you scared they'll harass you too?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "You didn't do anything wrong. Why should you be the one who's scared?"

In my past life, this was the exact same girl who had stood up to testify for me when the entire campus was out for my blood.

Tragically, by that point, it had been too late.

"Thank you," I rasped, my voice thick.

"Are you setting up tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm buying fries from you tomorrow!"

She flashed a bright smile and turned to run back toward the dorms.

I kept pushing my cart along the sidewalk.

The yellow streetlights stretched my shadow long and thin across the asphalt.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

A text from Brenda: "I'll give you one last chance tomorrow. You helping me or not?"

I left it on read.

Another buzz.

"You're just a broke-ass widow. Who the hell do you think you're fighting?"

I shut the phone off completely.

Looking up at the night sky, the stars were burning bright.

Go ahead, Brenda. Keep digging your own grave.

Before setting up the next morning, I met up with the glasses-wearing student.

Her name was Sarah, a senior, and she’d given me her Snap the night before.

"I need a favor," I told her, showing her my phone. "Keep a log of her daily traffic. And find out anyone who got sick after eating there."

Sarah pushed up her glasses and nodded vigorously.

"I already started, Lauren!"

She pulled a thick spiral notebook from her bag, packed with scribbled notes.

"Last Wednesday, two kids complained about severe stomach cramps. Friday, three more. Yesterday, a freshman had to be rushed to the campus clinic."

Scanning the detailed entries, a plan crystallized in my mind.

By ten in the morning, I rolled my cart into place.

Brenda’s stall was already up, buzzing with customers as usual.

I kept my head down cutting potatoes, ignoring the smug glances she sent my way.

Around noon, a scrawny boy stood by my counter, staring at my menu board for a long time.

His frayed hoodie cuffs were worn to threads, and his sneakers were falling apart at the seams.

"Want an order?" I asked gently.

He patted his empty pockets, looked down, and shook his head to leave.

"Here, on the house," I said, handing over a hot, freshly fried basket.

"No, really, I can't..."

"Take it," I pressed it firmly into his hands. "It's free."

He stood there, stunned.

"My little boy is sick in the hospital right now," I murmured, my nose stinging. "I know what it feels like to have completely empty pockets."

The boy ducked his head, his voice muffled with emotion.

"Thank you so much."

"Whenever you're hungry, just come by. I'll always have something for you."

He took the fries and walked off, turning back three times to look at me.

Old Man Miller, who sold Philly cheesesteaks two stalls down, leaned over and muttered quietly, "Giving away food like that... how are you supposed to make a living?"

I just smiled softly.

"Doesn't matter if I make a profit right now. If I can help one person, it's worth it."

That afternoon, two more students drifted past looking completely broke and hungry.

I gave them free fries too.

One of the girls started crying after taking her first bite.

"You are so sweet, thank you..."

I didn't say much, just went back to chopping potatoes.

I knew word of mouth would do the heavy lifting soon enough.

Brenda strolled past holding a travel mug, smirking maliciously.

"Well, well, Lauren. Heard you're giving away food for free today?"

"Yeah. Some of these kids are having a rough time."

"Tsk, tsk. Look at Mother Teresa over here."

Her voice was thick with venom. "I could give away free food too if I wanted. Anyone can do that."

I didn't dignify that with a response.

She scoffed loudly and strutted off.