My coworkers celebrated for me, and the
factory manager let me take a half–day off to
go back to the school’s award ceremony.
The school invited the top three test scorers
back to give out awards and prizes.
The prize was a large suitcase and a thermos.
Brittany was also giving a speech.
She found me before the speech. “Ashley, even
if you do better than me, my mother will never
like you. Don’t even think about stealing her.”
I guess she did hear the conversation we had
that night.
I took the microphone and told the entire
school, “Testing isn’t for anyone else, it’s for
myself.”
After getting into high school, Mom had less of
an impact because I started living in the dorms.
The teacher also helped me apply for grants
and financial aid. I had money to buy food, and I
could get free food by helping out in the
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But to get financial aid, I needed proof that we
were a single–parent family.
Mom refused to give it to me. She didn’t want
me to pass.
She’d get drunk at home, or she’d go to Aunt
Carol’s to see Brittany.
When I came home on break, she only asked
about Brittany.
She asked if Brittany ate, if she was stressed
from studying, and if people were bullying her.
I never asked her or told her anything.
Then Mom would yell at me for being a loser,
for never being as good as Brittany.
I stopped cutting the vegetables and threw the
knife on the cutting board.
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“If you love her so much, why don’t you be her
mother?”
Mom got angry. She went to slap me, but I was
a grown girl.
I grabbed a knife and pointed it at her. “If you
hit me, I will hurt you.”
Mom shut down, but she was still mumbling, “I
haven’t seen Brittany in so long. I wonder if she
misses me.”
I asked her, “You’re not her mother. Why would
she miss you?”
Mom looked at me and turned her head in
shame.
She still didn’t sign my form, but I secretly
copied her handwriting.
Brittany saw me with it when I was getting
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8:27
financial aid.
I stood under the flag holding a large sign,
waiting for the teacher to take my photo.
It was embarrassing.
I needed the money to go to school and live.
But a voice interrupted the crowd. “Ashley’s
mom has designer bags. How is she poor?”
It was Brittany.
I stood there awkwardly.
Who would believe me?
Who would believe a mother wouldn’t let their
child go to school?
I had to give the scholarship back, and the
school said they would investigate.
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<
The teacher talked to me privately. “Ashley,
lying isn’t a good habit. The money should go to
those who need it.”
No matter how I explained myself, the teacher
didn’t believe me. She even said she wanted to
bring my mom in to talk.
Brittany, the representative of my language arts
class, was in the office to pass in work, and
offered to call my mother for me.
“Ashley, you’re rich. Why are you trying to take
the scholarship from others?”
I looked at Brittany with her innocent face, and
knew that she had done this on purpose.
“Brittany, stop pretending. My mom sees you as
her daughter. Has she ever cared about me?”
Brittany turned red and said that was not true.
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8:27
Brittany had good grades, was pretty, and could
talk. The teachers loved her.
I went back to the classroom and saw my
grades on the table. Brittany was in first place,
and I was in second.
But I was determined to pass her.
I studied day and night, waking up early and
going to bed late.
I hid in the covers and read my textbooks in the dark when everyone else was asleep.
I and my partner were able to get into the same high school.
We were still partners and friends.
