My Death Made Them Drop Their Act

Dr. Miller, the school doctor, frowned and stopped writing the prescription. "You have to go to the hospital. If I remember correctly, this is the fifth time you've coughed up blood this month."

I sat on the cold stool. My face looked paler than my faded school uniform.

It took me a long time to get the words out. "Is it serious?"

I clenched my fingers. "Will the treatment cost a lot?"

Dr. Miller considered it for a moment. "Not really. The school provides student insurance. You just need to pay for the copay."

My eyes lit up, but then he added, "Just 24 dollars."

The glimmer of hope died instantly. I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth, tears welling up in my eyes.

24 dollars…

My family didn't have that kind of money. We couldn't afford the treatment.

Noticing my silence, Dr. Miller looked up. "I'll get you some painkillers. They're six dollars."

With that, he turned and went into the back room to grab the medicine.

I bit my dry, cracked lip and clutched my empty pockets. Holding my stomach, I ran.

Let it hurt. It didn't matter. I figured I could just tough it out. Six dollars was a fortune for my family.

But as soon as I bolted out, I ran straight into my homeroom teacher, Steven Gibson, who had brought me to the infirmary in the first place.

"Does it still hurt? What did Dr. Miller say? Should I call your parents to pick you up and take you to the hospital?"

Faced with her barrage of concern, I couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm fine, Mr. Gibson. Please don't tell my parents. They're really busy. Please."

I forced a smile.

I pinched my thigh hard, and the pain brought a sudden rush of color back to my face.

He studied me closely. "Alright, you do look better now. Go on back to class if you're fine."

Relieved, I went back to the classroom.

I coughed up blood several more times during class, but I wrapped it in tissues and stuffed them into the far corner of my desk.

But my stomach hurt so badly…

At lunchtime, the other students took out the elaborate meals their parents had packed for them.

When I opened my lunchbox, the teasing started. "Plain bread again? Joshua, is that all your parents feed you?"

Without a word, I kept my eyes down, trying to hide my shame.

Another boy roughly yanked at my clothes and sneered in disgust. "His family is dirt poor. He's still wearing a uniform that's way too small, and there's even a hole in the back. What a beggar!"

The boys surrounding me burst into laughter.

I released myself from his grip, my eyes red with anger. "My parents love me! Don't talk about them like that!"

Just as they were about to rough me up, Mr. Gibson intervened.

He glanced at the contents of my lunchbox and sighed deeply. Then, he split his own lunch in half and handed it to me. "Eat up. Tell your parents to pack something more nutritious tomorrow."

Tears streamed down my face.

But plain bread was already the best we had. My parents wouldn't even eat it themselves.

Back when I was younger, I had cried and refused to eat it.

That day, Dad dragged me into their bedroom with bloodshot eyes. He pulled out a half-eaten piece of moldy bread.

"Then what do you think we eat?" He threw the moldy bread at me. "Joshua, do you have any idea how much we sacrifice for you?"

I stared at the dirty, rock-hard bread at my feet in shock. "Dad…"

Mom choked back tears beside him. "Joshua, stop comparing yourself to others. We're already giving you the absolute best we can afford."

I picked up the moldy bread, dropped to my knees, and slapped myself hard.

Crying, I apologized, "I'm sorry, Mom, Dad. I'll never be ungrateful again. From now on, I'll only eat half the bread. You guys take the rest."

Now, looking at the food Mr. Gibson had given me, I waited until no one was watching and packed it away into my lunchbox.

Mom and Dad worked so hard. I had to take this home for them.

Satisfied, I put the lunchbox away and picked up my half of the bread. The blood I coughed up stained it red.

Ignoring it, I swallowed the bread down through the searing ache in my stomach.