Chapter 2

I didn't believe the lie myself. Right on cue, my stomach growled again, louder than the first time, as if it were protesting my hypocrisy.

The whole class went quiet for a second. The boy in the front row and a few other classmates turned around to look.

All the blood in my body rushed to my head, and the shame nearly choked me. I, Grant Walker, had never been so humiliated in my life.

Rose reacted fast. She suddenly coughed loudly twice, covering for me, then calmly made a face at everyone who had turned around. "What are you looking at? Never seen a pretty girl cough before? Can't a girl have an itchy throat?"

The class burst out laughing and turned back to the lesson. Mr. Bennett rapped on the blackboard. "Pay attention!"

Taking advantage of the moment, Rose moved quickly and shoved the big bun into my desk, then slipped in a packet of pickles too.

"Take it!" She glared at me. There was no contempt in her eyes, only the frustration of someone who wanted me to stop being so stubborn. "I bought too much for breakfast. My eyes were bigger than my stomach, and if I can't finish it, it just gets thrown out. If you don't eat it, that's wasting food. Do you know how wrong it is to waste food? Farmers work so hard for it!"

It was the flimsiest excuse in the world, but it was also the one I couldn't refuse.

I looked at the plump white bun in my desk and the bright red packet of pickles, and I almost cried.

Back then, a white flour bun cost twenty cents. For me, that was a treat I only got during the holidays or when I was sick. Most days, I ate whatever my family sent with me, made from dark flour or cornmeal.

With trembling hands, I waited until the teacher turned to write on the board, then tore off a piece and slipped it into my mouth.

It was so sweet.

It was sweet like malt candy, a sweetness that spread from the tip of my tongue all the way to my heart. It was the best thing I had ever eaten in my life. It tasted better, and stayed with me longer, than any fine delicacy I would later eat at five-star hotels.

After the first time, there was a second.

From that day on, Rose and I seemed to have an unspoken understanding. Every morning, right after early reading period, while everyone was noisily heading to the cafeteria or the field, two big white buns would appear in my desk like clockwork.

Sometimes there was a warm hard-boiled egg. Sometimes there was a packet of ramen seasoning (back then, I thought it smelled amazing). Sometimes there was even a bottle of Gatorade, the rarest treat of all in those days.

Every time I tried to refuse, or tried to save up money to pay her back, she gave me the same kind of excuse, with a new twist each time.

"My mom packed too much for me again. It's so annoying. She's determined to fatten me up like a pig. Grant, do me a favor. I don't want to get fat."

"Ugh, this egg cracked while it was boiling. I don't like eating cracked ones. Just take care of it for me."

"This soda's gone totally flat. It tastes awful. Drink it like water."

I wasn't stupid. I knew she was finding every way she could to help me while protecting my pathetic little bit of pride.

Feelings back then weren't expressed as openly as they are now. Nobody said corny things like "I like you" or "I love you." All the affection was hidden in those warm buns, and in every one of those transparent acts of "I don't want this anyway."

To repay her, I poured all my effort into studying.

I was first in the class. She was somewhere in the middle, and math was her weakest subject. Every day, I organized notes for her, broke the math problems down into tiny pieces, and explained them to her in the clumsiest but most effective way I could.

"Look, you have to draw the auxiliary line like this. It's like building a road back in our village. You have to find the shortcut." I held a pencil and drew on her scratch paper.

The classroom was cold in winter, so we had to light the coal stove. The coal was hard to carry, dirty and heavy, and lighting the stove took real skill. If you did it wrong, the whole room filled with smoke. I took on the job of lighting the stove for the entire winter. Every morning at five, before the sun was up, I dragged myself out of bed and braved the freezing wind to haul coal from the pile. Then I got the stove going and kept it burning strong.

So her seat would be a little warmer, I made a special request to the teacher to give her the best spot, the one closest to the stove. I sat by the door where the wind blew in, and my hands were covered in frostbite.

Once, the power went out during evening study hall, and everyone lit candles to read.

She was stuck on a solid geometry problem she just couldn't solve. She was so frustrated that her forehead was beaded with sweat, and there was a smudge of soot on the tip of her nose.

I leaned over and explained the problem to her by the faint candlelight. We were very close, close enough that I could smell the pleasant soapy scent of her hair, close enough that I could hear her breathing.

"Here... see, it's a triangular pyramid..." I gestured on the paper with my pen. My voice shook a little, and my heart was pounding like a drum.

She suddenly turned her head and looked at me. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, as if stars were hidden in them, or a pool of clear water.

"Grant, you're so smart," she said with a smile, showing those two pretty dimples. "If you get into college someday, you're definitely going to be somebody important. Maybe a scientist, or a big boss."

I looked at her, my face burning, my heart racing. Right then, I made a silent vow: Rose, just wait. When I make something of myself, I'll give you a good life. You'll eat meat every day and wear new clothes, and you'll never have to lie again just to save your food for me.

"If I become somebody important, I'll... I'll buy you buns for the rest of your life. With meat inside." After struggling for a long time, that was the pathetic line I finally managed to get out.

She burst out laughing, so hard she shook all over, and reached out to poke my forehead. Her fingertips were cool. "You dummy! Who wants to eat buns for the rest of her life? I want KFC. I heard it's really good."

"Deal! Someday I'll bring KFC right here to our town!" I thumped my chest and promised.

That laughter, clear as a wind chime, rocked my whole youth. It also became my warmest memory through countless days and nights in the years that followed.