**Diary Entry:**
At home, food wasnt always on the table. Mum did her best, but sometimes there wasnt even enough for a loaf of bread. Most days, I went to school with an empty stomach and nothing in my bag.
When break time came, Id pull out my maths book and pretend to study. I acted absorbed, hoping theyd think I was diligentnot just starving.
One day, the new teacher, Mr. Thompson, stopped by my desk. “Why dont I ever see you eating at break?” he asked.
Nervous, I blurted out, “I want to be the top student, sir. Id rather use the time to revise.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Right, I see.”
He walked away, and I thought hed bought it. So I kept up the act, stomach growling as I watched my classmates eat.
A few minutes later, Mr. Thompson returned with a paper bag from the canteen. He set it on my desk. “Ordered too much. Wont finish it. Do me a favour?”
Inside was an oat roll, a carton of juice, and even an applea proper packed lunch.
I nodded silently. The moment he left, I shut my book and ate like I hadnt seen food in days.
Never told him. Never admitted that roll was all I ate that day. Never confessed Id lied to save face.
Years later, I still remember that meal.
