Groveling for Change

            It’s that time of the week again. Sunday. Back to school tomorrow, full with extra-curriculars, music training, singing, sports… I’ll only be home around seven or eight. I’ll hardly get a break. I’ll barely scrape by on breakfast.

            I need money to get a snack or I won’t make it. Money…

            I should ask right away. Instead, I clean around the house. I read in my room. I go out and get groceries. I make dinner. I dilly-dally. Anything to delay the inevitable and prove I’m a good girl.

            The fateful time comes too soon anyway. I feel completely unprepared, as always.

            I breathe in and step forward. “Mom?” I whisper. Her eyes swivel from the tv to me, cold and annoyed. I shudder, nearly back down, then remember the usual hunger. My courage returns, urged on by need. “I… I’d like to ask for some money. For food. Tomorrow. If that’s okay,” I push through gritted teeth, my voice faltering.

            Mom tsks, fishes around her pocket, flings something at my feet. The clatter of coins feels like a slap across my face. “Choke on it. That’s all you’re good for anyway. Taking,” she barks with a sneer.

            Something snaps inside me. I would rather die than become like that creature…

            In the meantime, though, I grovel. I get down on hands and knees and pick up the change. Tomorrow, I eat.