Chapter 2

Harbor City in the south was so muggy it was hard to breathe.

I hauled my heavy old suitcase out of the station, and sweat soaked through my shirt within minutes.

The wind here was damp, carrying a faint smell of fish.

I stood on the busy street, watching the stylishly dressed men and women pass by, and for the first time I felt like I didn't belong in this world.

I had two hundred dollars left in my pocket.

It was everything I owned after selling all my old furniture and paying for the train fare.

I had to find work as fast as I could.

With my old teachers' college diploma, I found a night school out on the edge of the city.

The principal's name was Chavez, a paunchy middle-aged man.

He sat behind his desk, sizing me up with a critical eye.

"Janice Swanson, right? Decent education, I'll give you that."

He lifted his tea and took a sip, then said slowly, "But you don't have local residency, and you don't have a proper transfer order. We can't take you on as permanent staff here."

"Dean Chavez, subbing is fine too," I said quickly. "I'm not picky."

He set the cup down and gave a little smile. "Subbing's rough work, all night shifts, teaching factory women. Pay's by the hour, a dollar a class. You want it or not?"

I didn't hesitate. "I'll take it."

To keep myself afloat, I took a dishwashing job by day at a small diner near the school.

The back kitchen was dim and damp, and my hands stayed in the freezing, filthy water all day long.

Within a few days my fingers broke out in a dense rash, itching and burning.

But I didn't dare stop.

Every evening I shook off the smell of grease and smoke, changed into a clean shirt, and stood in that bare classroom.

The blackboard was made of wood, the paint worn clean off it.

The students in front of me were all women from the nearby clothing and electronics factories.

They came straight from twelve-hour shifts, dropping into their seats exhausted, and yet their eyes were startlingly bright.

One girl named Jenna was about the age I'd been back then.

She came up with her notebook and asked me in a small voice, "Teacher Swanson, if I finish my studies, can I really get off the assembly line?"

I looked at her hands, thick with calluses, and gave a firm nod.

"Yes. As long as you keep at it, you'll get out. I promise."

I wasn't only saying that to her. I was saying it to myself too.

The door I'd never managed to walk through, I pushed open for them with everything I had.

Under my tutoring, more than half the women in the class passed the adult equivalency exams.

Word about the night school spread, and more and more people came to enroll.

Dean Chavez came to find me, a false smile all over his face.

"Teacher Swanson, doing good work lately."

He handed me a form. "This is the application for permanent staff. Sign it and you're on the books for good."

I felt a flush of surprise and reached for it, but he pressed his hand flat on the form.

"There's a condition, though."

He leaned in close and dropped his voice. "That brother of mine, you've met him. His leg's a bit lame, sure, but the family's got two apartments here in Harbor City. Say yes to marrying him, and the staff position is yours on the spot."

His brother was a layabout who spent all day hanging around on the street, in his thirties and still without a real job.

I looked at the form, and my stomach turned over.

I snatched it up and, right in front of him, ripped it in two with a loud tear.

"Dean Chavez, my staff position isn't something I need to trade for like this."

I threw the torn pieces on the desk and turned to go.

"Janice Swanson! Don't push your luck!" Dean Chavez slammed the desk and roared after me. "Leave here and no school in Harbor City will dare take you!"

Two other young women teachers quit along with me.

We talked it over and decided to start our own school.

We rented a small storefront next to an abandoned warehouse and hung up a sign made from a wooden board.

Five words were painted on it: the Sprout Learning Class.

The sign hung crooked. I'd nailed it up myself.

On the first day of class, a black car pulled up outside the door.

The door opened, and a man in a suit got out.

He walked up to me and held out a business card.

"You're Miss Janice Swanson, right? Engineer Delgado sent me to find you."