The lunch bell rang. Students streamed through their classroom doors and scrambled to get a seat next to their best friend. Tope sat down next to Amber after purchasing his lunch from the lunch line. He slipped the blue envelope he received under his tray, hidden from view. “Hey,” he said, “Trade you cookies for lettuce wraps?” Amber leaned toward his tray to see if the deal was worth it, and noticed that a corner of the hidden envelope was peeking out.
    

“You need more lunch money? Didn’t you just put more money in your account last week?” Tope blushed and kicked his feet under Room Seven’s lunch table. “Maybe I didn’t put in enough?” He tried to pry his way out of this conversation. Amber said, “Also, don’t you think the lunch prices are so unfair?” She pointed to the two amounts of money listed on the envelope. One for the “average” student and one for students who needed financial aid.
    

When Tope arrived at his house after school, he saw his mom reading a form on the cold kitchen table. “Mom,” he said, “What are you doing?” She quickly turned around, using her elbow to nudge the paper to the edge of the table, out of sight.
    

“Mom,” he said, “I need more lunch money.” She turned around, holding a half-peeled kiwi. “I just put in some money last week! The lunch prices are sure rising. Oh, and by the way, can you give the form I filled out to the office? I put it on your desk.” Tope didn’t ask what it was for. As soon as he had walked into his house, he could sense that his mom was hiding something. Without looking or peeking at any of the writing on the form, he slipped the form into his backpack.
    

The day after, Tope got dropped of at school by his dad. He said goodbye to his dad, who murmured a goodbye back sleepily. The first thing he remembered to do was drop off the form at the office. He walked from the parking lot to the school office, which was located at the entrance of his school. With a small tug, the door swung open with ease.
    

“May I help you?” The principal’s attendant stood up from her chair as soon as he walked in. Tope glanced at the plastic nametag sitting on her desk, which read “Mrs. Son”. “Can I drop off a form? I don't know exactly what it’s for though. My mom told me to give it to you.” The attendant smiled warmly and took the form from his hands. As Tope started to walk to the door, he glanced back at Mrs. Son and thought he saw a hint of pity in her smile this time.
    

At 3:10 PM, Tope returned from school. After knocking on his front door, he waited- no one opened the door. He tried knocking once more but all that responded was a spotted lizard scurrying out of bush. “That's weird,” he thought, “My mom or dad is always home when I get back from school.”
    

He suddenly remembered the keys he always kept in the hidden pocket of his backpack, which was meant for keeping earphones in. He lifted a flap that hid the zipper leading to where his spare keys were, and unlocked the door. The door opened with a familiar squeaking sound, and revealed a small, tidy kitchen. Tope stepped in, and subconsciously locked the door behind him.
    

A weird déjà vu sensation drifted over him, and he remembered the first times he was left alone in his house when he was smaller. Without his parents home, the house felt empty and hollow. A pink post it note in the corner of his eye that caught his attention. Dropping his backpack down on the cold, tiled floor, he leaned over the dining table to see what was written on the note. “Going to be home later than usual, there is some food in the fridge.” He un-stuck the note from the small cutting board placed on the dining table and put in in the trash can, assuming it wouldn’t needed anymore. He picked up his backpack and walked over to his desk to do his homework.
    

Tope started to take out his binder to do his math homework. He then realized that the piece of paper he suspected was troubling his mom was sitting on the counter across from his desk. The refrigerator hummed and small birds chirped as if it was just a normal afternoon. With his mind spinning, Tope slowly walked toward the phone counter, hesitating, before picking up the form. There it read in big bold letters, “UNEMPLOYMENT NOTICE.”
    

He read it, and read it again. That was when everything clicked in place. Why his parents weren't home, why they always looked tired, why he felt like they were hiding something from him. He felt ashamed that he did not realize what situation his parents were in, but a thought clouded over his guilt. “They should have told me what they were going through.” Tope stared mindlessly at the ground. For some reason, he wasn’t sad. Or angry, or mad. He just felt empty. As the discovery dawned on him, he decided it was the best to tell his parents what he had just seen.
    

His parents came home a lot later than usual. Tope stood up from the chair he was sitting on and walked out the bedroom his family shared. Instead of marching down the stairs as planned, he stood at the entrance of his bedroom, going back on his decision. “Should I do this? Should I not?,” Tope thought. Examining the floorboards and dust that was piled in the corners of the small hallway, he gathered his willpower.
    

He walked down the chestnut stairs, anticipating the face of his parents when they saw him holding the form they least expected him to know about. He suddenly stopped at the end of the stairway and pressed his back up against the wall. He shifted just to adjust to the uncomfortable railing fitted against the wall, but didn’t do anything else that would be too loud. He heard his parents talking in the living room. Not talking the tired fashion they would before, but with relief. Bits of their conversation slipped through.
    

“I’m glad you could find a new job.”
    

All of his ambitions dissolved. Without thinking, Tope quietly slipped behind the cupboard that hid him from sight and put the form he held back on the phone table before interrupting his parents privacy to ask what was for dinner.