Part 2The Hunger Year

By high school, my mother threw her hands up. "No money. You stole it all. How are you going to school?" "I found you a job at the local meatpacking plant. They provide three meals. You’re a minor, so your checks go to my account."

I nodded obediently. That night, while they slept, I packed my bag. I pried up a floorboard and took the three thousand dollars my dad had hidden. I took another two thousand from behind the toilet tank that my mom had won gambling.

I ran to a boarding school across the state line to enroll. I thought I’d finally eat well, but the lunch lady, Mrs. Gable, was a nightmare. She had a "tremor" in her hand that only acted up when I was in line.

A scoop of beef stew would reach my tray as three pieces of fat and a slice of ginger. My portions were half the size of the boys'.

After the nth time being cheated, I snapped. "Why do the guys get mountain-sized plates while mine is the size of a fist?"

Mrs. Gable’s triple chin wobbled. "How much can a skinny girl eat? It’s a waste! Come back for extra rice if you're still hungry."

I polished off my plate and went back for more. She sneered. "Extra sides cost a swipe. Only plain rice is free."

I calculated my balance. Fine. Being full was enough. So, I went back for plain rice every single meal.