Part 2His Second Heart

My cheek burned, and my ears rang.

"What did I tell you? I told you to study hard and pay attention in class!

"This is how you repay me? This is how you make amends?

"You woke up five minutes late this morning, and now you're zoning out in class too!

"You're doing this on purpose! You're deliberately trying to upset me, Jordan Salazar!"

My mother's furious voice echoed through the tiny office.

"What kind of sin did I commit in my past life? Your father and I worked so hard to raise you, and this is what we get in return? An ungrateful child like you!"

Ms. Ramirez hurried over to hold my mother back, then shot me a look.

"Jordan, apologize to your mother. She's only doing this for your own good."

The pain in my stomach and the pain in my face tangled together until I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down.

I didn't even know what I'd done wrong this time, but like a puppet with its strings pulled, I instinctively repeated the words I'd said countless times before.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I was wrong."

My mother's anger eased slightly. After scolding me a few more times, she finally allowed Ms. Ramirez to escort her out.

I remained standing there blankly until Ms. Ramirez let out a sigh and explained, "During math class, I saw you lying on your desk and thought you weren't feeling well, so I called your mother..."

So that was it.

I stood outside the school gates, my legs feeling as heavy as lead.

On my left was the bakery I'd been visiting for years. For nearly ten years, I'd bought plain bread there. Paired with the pickles I brought from home, that counted as a meal.

On my right was a KFC, the aroma drifting out through the doors. The scent of fried chicken forced its way into my nose, stirring an even deeper emptiness and pain in my stomach.

I was dying anyway. Soon, my heart wouldn't belong to me anymore.

Thinking of the Stage IV stomach cancer diagnosis hidden in my schoolbag, what difference would eating it just once make?

The moment that thought appeared, I couldn't suppress it anymore.

I tightened my grip around the few bills in my pocket. It was the money I had left after buying my mother a birthday present.

Now, I just wanted to buy myself one final meal. I walked into KFC almost mechanically.

The restaurant was crowded and noisy, and the bright lights made me feel strangely out of place.

I stopped in front of the counter and stared at the colorful pictures on the menu, completely at a loss.

Under the urging of the customers waiting behind me, I carefully ordered the cheapest meal on the board.

"Just this?" The cashier looked at me strangely. Maybe my school uniform didn't belong in a place like this.

I nodded without looking at her.

The wait for my food felt unbearably long. The pain in my stomach came in waves.

But I didn't care. All my attention was fixed on the fried chicken that would soon be mine.

"Order 29! Your meal is ready!"

I carried the tray with trembling hands and sat down in a corner.

Golden, crispy fried chicken, hot fries, and a cup of ice-cold Coke.

I'd seen these things countless times on television.

I remembered one time when I'd finished first in my class. Holding my perfect exam paper, I'd worked up the courage to ask my parents for a reward.

I told them I wanted to try KFC just once.

What I got in return was my mother's furious scolding.

"That's junk food! Don't you know how unhealthy fried food is? Do you want your heart to become unhealthy, too? Jordan, you're so selfish. All you ever think about is yourself!"

I knew they weren't worried about my health. They were only afraid that this heart would be contaminated in some way.

Then again, I'd spent nearly ten years eating plain bread and pickles, and to them, that was perfectly normal.