Billionaires Don’t Fall For Awkward Girls by Emma Dalton
Chapter Nineteen
I don’t know why I’m in such a good mood as I follow the kids to the cafeteria the next day. It’s not like I care whether everyone knows the truth that the lunch lady and I are related. I guess it’s a relief that I don’t have to keep the secret anymore.
And the best part? I get to smile at Mom for real and have a conversation with her in public.
As I watch kids accept food from her, I realize nothing’s changed. They’re still ignoring her like they’ve been doing since the first day of school.
Mom catches me watching her and a wide smile forms on her face. I wave, wishing I could jump the line and gobble down her delicious food. But that would be nepotism.
The line moves quickly and now I’m only three people away from getting that delicious food.
“Think she’ll end up just like her fat mom?” a voice says from behind me. Looking to my right, I find none other than those two girls who were talking crap about Mom the last time.
The second girl scans me from top to bottom, scowling. “I’d say a thousand percent. I mean, just look at her.”
The first girl trains her eyes on me. “If it isn’t obvious, yes we’re talking about you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why don’t you…why don’t you give it a rest? No one’s bothering you.” The words don’t come out as loud or confident as I hoped.
The girls step closer. “Heard your mom’s not only the pathetic lunch lady, but she cleans other people’s houses. How poor are you?”
My mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
The girls chuckle to one another. “I mean, just look at you. You’re so poor your clothes are torn. And those shoes look like they’re ten years old. And oh my gosh, do you even wash your hair?!”
The other turns up her nose, waving her hand around. “And when’s the last time you took a shower? Do you even have a bathroom?”
“I…I…”
“Ew! You stink! Get away from me! Not only is obesity contagious, but so is poverty.”
“You’re so pathetic. I’d die if I had that woman for a mother. Moo. Moo.”
“Moo. Moo!” the other girl echoes.
Tears sting my eyes. How can they say such horrible things about my mom? And why can’t I freakin’ say something instead of standing here like a mindless loser?
I feel every single pair of eyes on me, but the one who stands out above the rest? Mom’s. Her face registers nothing but pain and embarrassment. She lowers her head, then places food on a kids’ tray. Forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, she tells him to enjoy. Then she greets the next student.
I push past the kid waiting in line before me. “Mom.”
She doesn’t look at me. “Don’t cut in line, Dani.”
“Mom.”
“Wait your turn.”
I can’t stand that she’s keeping all her pain inside and wish I could do something. But what? I can’t erase what those girls said to her. They’re out in the open, floating around the cafeteria for everyone to hear.
The girl Mom’s handing food to thanks her and walks off. I slide over to Mom, pressing my tray to my chest because she doesn’t look at me.
“Mom.”
She holds out her hand. “Your tray.”
“Mom.”
Her eyes flit to mine. “Dani, I have lots of kids to feed, so please just pick your food.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and tell her what I’d like to eat. My appetite flew out the window, but I’ll need to get something into my stomach.
“Thanks.” As she hands me my tray, I clutch her hand, providing as much comfort as I can. She smiles sadly and turns to the next kid.
My friends are sitting at our table, eyes wide with shock. I drop down near Ally and she rubs my arm, telling me how sorry she is. The others echo her, each touching my hand or shoulder.
I frown at my tray, playing around with the steamed vegetables. “Guys, I appreciate all this, really, but can we please not talk about it? It just….it hurts too much.”
They nod in understanding, each of them with care in their eyes. We eat our meal in silence until the bell rings and we separate to our classes.
***
I skip dance practice because I feel like crap. I know I need to practice for the dance finals, but my heart’s broken into a million pieces. I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened all day, wondering how Mom is doing. I texted her a few times, but she acted as if everything was normal.
The bus ride home is torture, not because people are banging into me but because it’s moving so slowly. When I finally reach my house and push the door open, I find Mom on her hands and knees, scrubbing a stain on the kitchen floor.
Dashing over to her, I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her shoulder. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”
She pats my back. “Sweetie, none of this is your fault.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I know, but I should have done something. I should have defended you, but I just stood there like a moron.”
She hugs me tight. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me, Dani. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.” She looks into my eyes. “I don’t want you to go through that every day. That’s the reason why I didn’t want your classmates to know I’m your mom.” She plays with my hair. “I wouldn’t be able to handle you suffering every day like I did when I was in high school. That’s why I quit.”
My eyes pop out of their sockets. “What? You quit your job?”
She nods, getting to her feet and taking my hand. She leads me to the table and we sit down. She takes a deep breath, her face pinched in pain. “I don’t talk about this often, but when I was in high school, I was bullied mercilessly. Because of my weight, because I wasn’t pretty or rich. Whatever reason they could find, they picked on me. I endured it for years. I dreaded waking up every morning because of those kids. I didn’t have friends. I was alone.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
She takes both my hands. “Sweetie, I don’t want you to suffer the way I did. You have amazing friends who would do anything for you. You have dance. You’re happy. But when I saw you today? How much pain you were in?” She shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone bullying you. I don’t want them to pick on you because you’re my daughter.”
“Mom—”
“If they don’t see me every day, they won’t think twice about you. They’ll soon forget I was ever the lunch lady.”
I stand up. “But you can’t let those kids bully you into quitting! What…I mean, we need the money.”
She stands too, pushing some hair away from my eyes. “I’ll get another job. I should have never worked at your school. I’m sorry I put you through that, Dani.”
I shake my head, more tears entering my eyes. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t screw up my high school life. I was so happy to see you every day.”
The tears fall now and she wipes them away with a tissue. “With me gone, you’re free to have a normal and fun high school experience.”
“But you loved that job! And the kids love you. It was just those few jerks who said those terrible things.”
She wraps an arm around me. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
I heave a heavy sigh. “You shouldn’t be forced to quit because of a few stupid kids.”
“It’s better this way. I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it. You focus on dance, your friends, school, and having a good time. Don’t worry about me.” Giving me a reassuring smile, she gets down on her knees and continues rubbing that stain.
“So nothing I say will persuade you to reconsider?” I ask.
She shakes her head, glancing up at me. “I didn’t quit because I let those kids get to me. I won’t lie and say their words didn’t hurt, but it’s not about me. It’s about you. Every decision I make is because I’m trying to protect you.”
More tears splash down my cheeks. I drop down and hug her. “Those kids wish they had an amazing mom like you.”
She laughs lightly, then frowns. “Why aren’t you at your dance lesson?”
“I couldn’t go. I was too upset.”
She shakes her head, pulling away from the hug. “Go. Right now.”
“I’m not really feeling it.”
She places her hands on either side of my face. “I’m not letting you miss practice because you’re worried about me. And you paid for those lessons with hard work. You’re going.” She glances at the time. “Call Jasmine and tell her you’re running late.”
I sigh.
She gives me a face like this conversation is over. Doesn’t she understand that I just want to be with her after this crappy day?
But Mom and Dad sacrifice so much for me, for my dance. So I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Jasmine, telling her I’m on my way. Then I hug Mom another time before dashing to the bus stop.