Chapter 1
The city stirred before the sun, its breath rising in mist over cracked sidewalks and flickering street lamps. David, fifteen, emerged from the shadowed doorway of the cramped one-room apartment he shared with his little sister, Emma. His backpack, patched with old denim and safety pins, slung over one shoulder. Inside, not books—but two sets of uniforms and a half-eaten granola bar.
Emma, only seven, was curled up under their thin blanket, schoolbooks stacked neatly beside her. David paused at the door, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. She mumbled in her sleep, clutching the stuffed rabbit he'd sewn for her from old socks. He whispered, "Be good today, Em," then slipped out.
By six-thirty, he was behind the counter at Mr. Ahmed's corner bakery, folding paper bags and refilling sugar jars. The smell of rising dough warmed his chest, masking the cold reality of his mornings. Mr. Ahmed, gruff but kind, paid him under the table—just enough to cover Emma's school fees and a little rice for dinner. In between customers, David would sit on a milk crate by the back door, finishing Emma's homework when she was too tired or too sad to do it herself.
"You work too hard, boy," Mr. Ahmed said one morning, handing him a warm croissant. "You should be in school."
David forced a smile. "Later, maybe." His shift ended at noon, but there was no time to rest. By one, he was at the car wash on 9th Street, sleeves rolled up, hands raw from soap and cold water. He scrubbed and smiled, joked when he could, and always looked out for tips. Sometimes the other boys laughed at him—called him "Dad-boy" because of Emma—but David didn't care. Every dollar mattered.
When he finally got home, the sun long set, he found Emma at the table with her nose in a book, tongue sticking out as she practiced multiplication. She jumped up when she saw him. "I got a gold star today!" she beamed, holding up the sticker on her worksheet.
David grinned, his exhaustion evaporating for a moment. "That's amazing, Em! You're gonna be a genius one day." She tugged his hand. "Come on, I saved you the last spoon of stew!"
In that small room, beneath a flickering ceiling light and beside cracked windows, they ate, laughed, and forgot—for just a little while—how hard the world was outside.