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CHAPTER ONE
Becky
“Do you really have to go?” cried Mattie pitifully. “Really?”
My heart broke. Eight year-old Mattie is the cutest thing with his sandy hair and big glasses, but my little brother was part of the reason why I was going.
“I do, Mattie, I’m sorry,” I said, kneeling so that I was face level with the little boy. “But I’ll be back okay? It’s just a summer job.”
Mattie threw his scrawny arms around me then, clinging tight, burying his face in my shoulder.
“Do you promise to come back?” he whispered tearfully into my neck. “Promise?”
I nodded.
“Absolutely, I love you too much to go away for long. Now behave okay? Behave and help Nana with the chores, be a good boy, okay? I’ll call every week, and before you know it, I’ll be back.”
The little boy just sniffled and nodded, face still buried in the crook of my neck, breath hot against my skin. My heart broke, I love my little brother so much. Mattie means the world to me and it physically hurt to leave him, this little boy I’d helped raise since he was a baby.
But it was time, and my brother knew I had to go too. For our family’s survival, I had to go.
“Promise to come back soon,” he whispered once more. “Promise Becky.”
And giving my brother one last big hug, I stood and grabbed my backpack.
“I promise I’ll be back soon, it’ll just be a blink of the eye,” I said in a fake cheerful tone, blowing kisses. “Bye Nana, bye Mattie, I love you guys,” I sang with a lump in my throat, turning towards the door, eyes glassy. Shit, this was so hard, there were hot stinging pricks behind my lids, like a waterfall was about to come pouring out and I audibly gulped, chest rising up and down. But my grandmother, sensing my hurt, stepped in then.
“Thank you, dear heart,” she said, lifting a wrinkled, wizened hand to my head to tuck a piece of stray hair behind my ear. “Thank you and take care of yourself. Come back in once piece, hear?”
I flushed. Oh my god, did my grandmother know? But I just shook my head. There’s no way she could, I’d been completely discreet the past two weeks, a little evasive, but giving just enough detail to prevent any suspicious questions.
Because Nana and Mattie thought I was headed to Nevada for a summer job, and they were right. But there was more to the job than that. I was headed to Nevada to be auctioned at the Billionaires Club, selling my virginity to the highest bidder. It’s crazy, it’s insane, it’s outright mad. But my family needed the money, and I would do anything to help them survive, including selling my body.
Because it’s always just been me, Nana and Mattie. My mom is a deadbeat, someone who breezes in and out of our lives whenever she wants, whenever it’s convenient. Her last visit had been a disaster, the woman had left Mattie in tears, clacking her long fingernails like it was no big deal.
“He’ll get over it,” Ellen whined, one hand on the door knob. “He’s old enough.”
I was so angry that I lost it completely.
“He’s your son!” I screamed at her, tears coursing down my face. “You can’t just come in and out whenever you want! Mattie needs you! He needs his mother!”
But Ellen wasn’t having it, she had a date with some guy downtown.
“Nah, he’s okay,” she cooed, my raised voice having no effect. “You’re a big man now, right Mattie?” she said, chucking him under the chin. “You’re a big man, you don’t need your mama.”
And Mattie had nodded through the tears, trying to do his best not to cry despite the hiccups and sniffles that erupted from his small chest.
“I-I’m okay Mama,” he replied tearfully, a small fist wiping at his flushed face. “I’m okay.”
Ellen turned to me, sneering.
“There you have it,” she cawed triumphantly. “Now shut up Becky, and mind your own business.”
And with that, the woman was gone, door slamming behind her. I gasped, disbelieving, almost unable to breathe. What mother could leave her child like this? I knew we wouldn’t see Ellen for another couple weeks, she’d be the invisible person until it was convenient for her to wander back uptown at some point, out of boredom more than anything else.
But the thing is, we don’t have a choice. It’s Ellen’s disability checks that support this little family unit, and we’re dependent on her despite her flighty ways. And so while the woman does as she pleases, dating random men and hooking up with strangers, Nana, me and Mattie stay put in our shabby Bronx apartment, scraping to get by.
But recently, things have taken a left turn. Ellen isn’t reliable, hasn’t been her entire life, but her disability checks come like clockwork. They arrive by snail mail around the middle of every month, and I swear, my ears are on constant alert then, listening for the metal bang of our mailbox. It’s a matter of life and death, usually by then we’re living on baked beans and canned corn, and dreams of fresh fruit or milk for Mattie are long gone. So just as usual, around the fifteenth of last month, I’d jumped up as soon as I heard the shuffle of the postman, the unmistakable jingle-jangle of his long keychain.
