“Every one of those families is getting a certified letter from the collection firm next week if the total isn’t paid off by Friday.”

My thumb pressed into the cold zinc of the fence wire.

Nine hundred eight dollars and forty cents was nearly the exact amount of my last paycheck, nine hundred fifteen dollars, lying in greasy burlap sacks all over my driveway.

“Does Principal Vance know his own nephew is eating plain cheese sandwiches?” I asked.

“Paul Vance runs Washington Elementary strictly by the district handbook,” Irene said, turning her eyes back to the empty parking lot.

“He doesn’t make exceptions for anybody in this building, not even his own brother’s family.”