Ugh, I can’t believe school has started already, I thought to myself. Summer break was so short. School had just started and it was already in the 50s outside. I tossed an apple in my hand. I didn’t have enough time to finish my breakfast and just decided to eat on my way to school. I took the same boring path that I always had. The same lefts and the same rights, but there was something different about today. There was some feeling in the air that I couldn’t quite describe.

The school day was just as boring as any. The teachers just droned on and on about the curriculum and how they weighed homework and tests and how starting high school was a challenging thing. Blah, blah, blah. I had been in such a rush to leave that I didn’t bother to put my papers in my bag. On my walk home I decided to take the scenic route. The trees were starting to change color. A beautiful composition full of oranges, yellows, reds, and purples. I took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and let it out slowly. Just then, a sharp gust of wind whistled in my ear and ripped a piece of paper out of my loose grip.

My first thought was, leave it, it can’t be anything important, but I decided to go after it anyway. Besides, what was the rush? I went after the white sheet of paper that danced around in the air as gracefully as a prima ballerina.

It took me a while to catch up with it. I found the sheet of paper lying on the ground next to a street sign. When I reached down to pick it up, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whipped my head around and saw a frail old man standing behind me. His back was hunched over like the bridge in a painting that I saw at a museum. He was as skinny as a twig, and his clothes were ripped and dirty. Eyes sunken, knees quivering, he took a deep breath.

“Excuse me miss,” he said. He had a voice that reminded me of sandpaper and was so weak that it could have been mistaken as an autumn breeze. He took another raspy breath and continued. “You wouldn’t happen to have any food to spare, would you?” I started to shake my head but then remembered the apple that I had in my pocket.

“O- of course,” I stuttered. I could swear that my tongue was in a knot. I unzipped my backpack and looked for the apple that I had shoved in. I handed it to him, and his eyes lit up.

“Thank you, thank you. God bless your soul.” He took a bite of the apple, and a smile split his face. “What is your name, chica?”

My instincts started to send an alarm through my head. Danger, danger. A creepy old man wants my name. Abort! Abort! but I decided to ignore them. “Mariana, Mariana Juarez. You can call me Mari,” I said with a smile.

“Well then, Mari, I will make sure to include you in my prayers tonight.” I just smiled at him said thank you and goodbye.

The next morning while I was grabbing my apple, I stopped and thought about the old man. My eyes flitted back and forth from the door to the fruit bowl, and I grabbed another apple.                                                                               

After school, I took the same route that I had taken the day before. The old man was sitting on the same corner that he had been sitting at before. When he saw me his eyes lit up.

“Ay! Hola Mariana.”

“Hola,” I replied while I was opening my backpack. I handed him the apple that was in my backpack. Eyes sparkling, he reached out and took it.

“Gracias, Mari,” he said graciously.

“De nada señor…”

“Montez, Mateo Montez.”

“Well, I’ve got to get on home. Hasta luego.”

“Adios.”

This became my routine every day after school for about two weeks. But one day, something changed. I woke up, got changed and went to grab my daily apple and the snack for Señor Montez. I stopped while I was looking through the pantry. Why do I have to give Señor Montez my food? My parents pay for this food. He doesn’t deserve it. He didn’t do anything for me. So I continued my day without stopping to give food to Señor Montez after school.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My guilt was eating me up, leaving a heavy weight in my chest. I’ll make it up to him tomorrow. I’ll even bring extra food, and I’ll go extra early.

The next day I woke up bright and early. I packed a sandwich, an apple, and a protein bar for the old man.

Instead of walking directly to school, I went to find the old man at his usual corner. He wasn’t there. That's odd, I thought. Maybe he’ll be back soon. He probably just went on a walk or something. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Señor Montez didn’t come. I started to panic. What would a homeless man be doing so early in the morning?

There was a young couple walking by. Hands shaking, knees knocking, I stepped up to them.  “Excuse me,” I said. They both turned. “Do you know where the old man went?” I asked.

The woman looked at me as if I were a little child. A stupid child. “Aw, honey,” she cooed. Her lip was pushed out in pity. I wanted to pull it over her head. “The people living in the block found him passed out on the sidewalk and took him to the hospital. His blood sugar was too low and there was nothing they could do.” Low blood sugar? Isn’t that what you get when you don’t eat? A dark thought passed over me.

“The old man died of hunger,” I clarified.

“Yes, honey.”

          It was as if the rest of the world disappeared. “Ay dios mio,” I muttered. “It’s my fault.” I started to feel nauseous. Everything was spinning. Why was everything spinning? I could see the lady’s mouth moving, but it sounded so far. I sat down and put my head between my knees. I killed that man. I was being selfish and I killed Señor Montez. I didn’t know what to do with myself, but I forced myself to get up. And I ran. I didn’t even know where I was going. Tears were welling up in my eyes, and soon I could feel them pouring down my face. How could I ever live with myself?  

-Jeanine Cao