The other families that stay here are already at work because the sun rose not long ago. They aren’t fond of me—our piece-of-shit father made sure of that. He was all too happy to beat everyone around, and the landlord didn’t care as long as we paid.
We’re thirty minutes late by the time we leave the apartment.
My little brother’s cold hand grips mine for dear life as I walk us through the busy street. Rain pours from the sky and soaks us, Dylan making no effort to avoid the puddles or stay under the meager cover provided by the other buildings.
“Do I need to go?” he whines.
“I have to go to work,” I tell him.
His smile drops, like it always does. I want to punish the world for taking Mom from us. If she hadn’t gotten sicker—ifwe’d been able to afford all the medicine she needed, then maybe she’d still be here.
Maybe, if she were still alive, the light would return to my brother’s eyes. But I’m all he’s got. His only family member and friend.
“I want Mama’s stew.”
I look down at him as he skips. “You want me to try to make it?”
“I can help!”
I smile harder—it would be a diabolical mess if we even attempted that. But for him, I will.
I move Dylan out the way of an old man with a pipe, then we cross the uneven road, dodging one of the automobiles I can only dream of owning one day. It would help get me and my brother out of this rough town. Away from all the gangs and thieves and kidnappings.
There could be more work elsewhere. More opportunities.
Dylan stops outside a shop window and points to a dog stuffed toy. “Can I get the doggy?”
“We can ask Santa.”
For the next ten minutes, he talks about reindeers and snow and the Christmas tree he’ll draw on the wall with the chalk I got him for his last birthday.
We reach the entrance to his school, but before he runs in, he turns and hugs me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Don’t forget your promise,” Dylan says. “We can play.”
“Can’t wait,” I reply, crouching to hug him back. “Go, before your teacher gets more upset that you’re late.”
The teacher who opens the door taps her foot and gives me her usual disapproving look. I glare back at her without my brother seeing.
I always need to bite my tongue given the way they treat me. It’s not like I asked to be this way—circumstances made meuseless, and I don’t need teachers looking down on me because I’m struggling. Sending Dylan to an orphanage isn’t an option. The suggestion was made when Mom died, but I stood my ground. I’m old enough to care for him, and there’s no way I’ll allow him to become an orphan.
Dylan’s out of sight after a long, exaggerated wave goodbye by the door, so I take a deep breath and turn around, jogging to the tracks for my shift.
It’s not too far, but I still need to walk across a field filled with puddles and scrap metal to reach the rails we’re working on. The construction has been underway for a few years. When I was taken on, I was told I’d have five years total in this part of the city before I could move on, wherever the tracks traveled. My plan has always been to move with the job and take my brother, but that’ll only happen if I’m chosen by the boss.
The rain is still heavy when I reach the main doors. I fish out my time sheet and hand it to the supervisor to have it stamped with my time of arrival and the date. I have to hand it in at the end of every week to be paid.
“Taylor,” someone calls from behind me—because we never use our forenames here. “They want you at the office.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Being late is going to get me into deep shit, which means a lesser chance of being taken to the next location.
Steam bellows from metal tanks as I walk past them toward the staircase leading up to the office. I knock twice and wait for Stuart’s “come in” before pushing the door open.
A pipe clamped in his mouth, the boss of this entire place blows out smoke and plays with his moustache. “Take a seat, boy.”
The wordboycoming from him pisses me off. I’m twenty, the same age as his son, Andrew, who he likes to show off because he’ll take over the family business one day.
“This is the fourth time you’ve been late.”
I frown. “Sir?”
