Page 83 of Promise to Break

"I don't care. I'm staying here with you." He shakes his head as his hands forcefully rub his eyes in an attempt to make the tears disappear.

The sense of uselessness doesn't release its grip on my heart when I leave the kitchen a short while later and head for class.

"Fernandez, you decided to bless us with your presence. How nice of you." Maverick's sarcasm sets me at ease. I'll think of a good excuse for my tardiness later.

"I'm sorry." I hang my head.

"Come in," he commands, and I do as he says, ignoring the usual comments. "So, Miss Knight was just trying to explain to us how people standing in line at Starbucks are poor people. We're all ears, Miss Knight."

Lila scoffs. "I don't understand how it's not clear. They're standing in line to get a cup of coffee. It's so lame. Rich people wouldn't stand in line for a miserable cup of coffee. They'd sit in a respectable restaurant and wait to be served what they want." A small chuckle escapes me without my control as I take my place in the front row, next to Mr. Hope.

He says, "Fernandez, can you explain to me why this is funny?"

I raise my head to the teacher in an attempt to understand if he wants a real answer or if he's trying to scold me for making fun of a classmate.

All I need is a small nod from him to say, "It's not poverty. It's the middle class. Those who can afford to enter Starbucks and pay between five and seventeen dollars for a cup of coffee aren't poor. They're people who have a place to sleep in and things they can indulge in."

"So, what is real poverty?" he asks with approval. "I know you took a leave of absence last week, but I hope you still completed your assignment?"

I nod and get up from my seat to show the pictures I saved on my phone. I learned to do this after some of my bullies destroyed one of the cameras at school, and I had to pay for it with the money. It took me over four months to save for my own camera. I don't hesitate when I connect the phone to the teacher's computer and pull out the file where I saved the pictures I took of what poverty is in my eyes.

"Tell us about this first picture. It's a mouse." I hear the satisfaction in his voice but choose not to look at him. I haven't forgotten that he doesn't like my sister's family.

"I'm not sure you can see a mouse eating a rotten tomato next to a used syringe in the central places of Manhattan or Hollywood."

"And you lived in this poverty," Lila adds with her usual scorn. I typically refuse to respond to her nasty comments because she's just a dumb girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Not this time.

"True. I lived on this street right after my policeman father was killed in a car accident when he had too much to drink." I flip to the next picture with my eyes on her. "But you know what someone narrow-minded and ignorant like you can't understand? What the power of survival is."

The anger inside me bubbles up, and I don't stop. "You've been harassing me since I got here, and I never knew why. I honestly don't care, either. Rich whores who hide their inner rotten selves with fancy perfume don't interest me. That being said, I promise you, this is the last time you'll say anything in an attempt to hurt me, or you'll find out who the girl is who came out of that neglected place in the city."

No one says a word, not even Mr. Hope. I turn to the rest of the class and add, "Oh, and fuckers, if you want to see real poverty and help for once, help Ronen. His nineteen-year-old sister is fighting breast cancer. I can't imagine the treatments will be cheap."

"Who's Ronen?" Nina, a cute girl with freckles that can't be real if the color of her skin is any indication, asks.

"The one who makes your food every day. Your chef in the cafeteria." I inhale a deep, calming breath and turn to the teacher. "Mr. Hope, do you need me to explain more of my pictures?" The slide stops on Killian sitting on the floor with one of the new kids at the House of Dreams.

"Is that Killian Fierro?" Nina asks. Fuck, I didn't mean to post this one. I forgot to take it off. His face looks relaxed and calm as he talks to the little red-haired boy. The boy looks scared, yet he listens to every word the guy next to him has to say. It shows a side of Killian that none of them knows. Damn it, I didn't think I'd disclose that side of him.

"That one is brilliant," Maverick says. "To see Mr. Fierro, of all people, with this kid. It's prize-worthy, Miss Fernandez. How did you make him do that?"

He did it because he wanted to understand and learn. He did it for you. The swoony girl in my head comes back with gusto. "I didn't. He wanted to tag along. He wasn't aware of most of the pictures I took."

The class comes to an end faster than I expected. I rush out of the classroom first, something I never used to do until now, for several reasons. I always preferred to respect my teachers and not leave before they did. More importantly, I didn't want to turn my back on my enemies.

As expected, Killian is waiting for me at the door. I smile, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. It's so easy. Too easy. I'm still mad at him because of his behavior at the House of Dreams toward Julian, but I decided to give him a chance to show me that he can act like a human being. He promised me a lot of things, and it's time he kept them.

"Maricela." Nina, the girl from earlier, sounds hesitant, but I look at her without showing concern. She didn't harass me directly, but she did participate in the silent boycott against me. "How can I help Ronen?"

"I'll check with him. He's very prideful," I say. Hoping he will accept the help.

"Who's Ronen?" And that's why I know I'll never be in Killian's league. The little people don't interest him. He wouldn't be interested in me if it wasn't for… Actually, I still don't know why he wants me.

I decide that Ronen and his family need help, and whatever rude answer is on the tip of my tongue isn't worth losing any help they can get. "The chef of this place," I answer. "His little sister has breast cancer, and she's only nineteen. I'm sure they need financial help."

"And you think you're a bad person," he whispers in my ear, making my skin prickle. I hate his effect on me just as much as I love it. "What do you want to do?" he asks as an afterthought.

"I thought of giving him the little money I've saved," I admit with shame. I don't have much, but a human life is more important than any camera I want to buy for myself.

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