Chapter 4: City of New Beginnings

We left our town ten days before orientation, sending Trevor off to college first. Mrs. Fields fussed over him, her eyes red and puffy. She checked his suitcase twice, pressed a twenty into his hand, and hugged him so tight he groaned, "Mom, you’re gonna break my ribs."

Trevor pulled away, rolling his eyes. "If you want me to live well, just give me more cash," he muttered sarcastically.

Mrs. Fields handed him a wad of bills, her hands shaking as she counted. She kept glancing around, making sure no one saw just how much she was giving him.

Before leaving, she sold the house and land. The neighbors dropped by with pies—apple, pecan, and even a casserole—plus cards with congratulations. "You raised two college kids!" someone wrote. "Enjoy your golden years!"

Mrs. Fields soaked up the praise, smiling like she’d won the lottery. I made a silent vow never to come back.

After settling Trevor, Mrs. Fields and I took the bus to New York City. The city was a blur of honking taxis and crowds. My heart raced as we stepped off the bus.

Adrian Morales, my student mentor, stood out in the crowd—tall, handsome, holding a sign with my name. "Hey, welcome to the city!" he called out, grinning.

Mrs. Fields hurried over, puffing up with pride. "I’m not her mom, I’m her mother-in-law. She’s with my son." Her chin was high, her voice loud enough for half the terminal to hear.

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned closer and whispered, "You’re not old enough to get married, are you?"

I forced a smile. "She’s my foster mom." The words felt awkward, but I tried to sound casual.

Adrian wore a crisp white T-shirt and jeans. When he slung my battered duffel bag over his shoulder, I felt my face flush. My own phone—a beat-up Samsung Galaxy S5 with chipped paint—looked pathetic next to his shiny iPhone. I tried to hide it behind my backpack, cheeks burning.

He winked. "Don’t worry, I’ve carried heavier."

At the dorm, Adrian set down my luggage and pulled out his phone to add me on Messenger. The app pinged, and I fumbled, hands sweaty, trying not to drop my phone.

"The school’s got a mentorship program. If you need anything, just text me." His smile was warm, and for a moment, I felt less lost.

After Adrian left, Mrs. Fields turned stern. "Emily, don’t forget where you came from. Don’t abandon Trevor just because you got into a fancy college. Don’t be like your dad." Her warning lingered, and I felt uneasy, but too tired to argue.

I was here to study, not to fall in love.

After pleading with the dorm manager, Mrs. Fields got permission to stay for a week. The room was cramped, but she unpacked snacks and fussed over my laundry like we were still in the farmhouse.

At night, I squeezed onto the twin bed with Mrs. Fields, springs creaking under us. I downloaded Indeed and a local job app, scrolling through listings for cashiers, bussers, and dog walkers, heart pounding with determination.

The next day, I had to register and pay tuition. But Mrs. Fields hesitated, clutching my scholarship passbook. I realized with a jolt that, as a minor, all the money was in her name—and I’d trusted her completely.

"Where’s the money?" I demanded, voice shaking.

"Gone," Mrs. Fields said, eyes cold, lips pressed tight.

Fury surged through me. I tore through her bag, finding only $100. My hands shook as I searched, Mrs. Fields trying to snatch the cash back, stumbling and falling with a dramatic cry.

She started yelling, "Help! The daughter-in-law I raised wants to kill me!" Her voice echoed down the hallway, and students poked their heads out, some filming on their phones, others whispering, "What’s going on?"

The dorm manager rushed in, trying to calm things down. People gawked, some rolling their eyes, others watching like it was an episode of Real Housewives.

I sobbed, louder than Mrs. Fields. "She took my scholarship! Now I can’t pay tuition!" My voice cracked, tears streaming down my face.

The dean was called. He looked exhausted, shuffling papers, eyes flicking between us. Mrs. Fields played the victim, insisting she had nothing but her life left. She was so thin and frail, the dean couldn’t bring himself to scold her. The school let me defer payment until the end of the year. I left the office feeling empty, clutching my backpack like a shield.