Page 1 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

Chapter One

Hell Is Having to Make a Phone Call

The heat in my classroom has gone out.

It’s not the first time. In fact, it happens so often that I’m beginning to suspect the district is secretly turning off our heat to cut costs. Or the universe just hates me. Normally, I prepare for the cold by layering my fleece jacket under a puffer vest and counting on my natural performance anxiety to ratchet up my body heat. But today, right as I was heading out the door, my mom called to ask about a hospital bill, and I left all my warm layers on the kitchen counter while frantically reassuring my mom that everything was totally and completely fine.

So here I am, hours later, making do in my frigid classroom with only my anxiety and a lukewarm cup of coffee to power me through six hours of hyping up eighth graders like a Peloton instructor with a passion for algebra.

“Ms. Chen, it’sfreezing.Can we start a trash-can fire?” a student asks.

The class clamors in agreement. I’m so cold that I briefly consider it.

“Don’t worry, we’ll warm up with some hot quadratic equations,” I say, flourishing a stack of tests at him.

He groans but takes a paper before passing the rest back.

“It’s Friday and we just finished a module, so you know what that means!” I say with my trademark over-the-top enthusiasm.

“Test day!” the whole class shouts back with the same way-too-dialed-upenergy.

“You know the drill. Bring the tests up front when you’re done.” I spot a hand shoot up from the middle row. “And yes, Michael, you may go to the bathroom first.”

Michael leaps up from his desk and Naruto-runs out of the classroom to gales of laughter.

I settle back in my chair as the sounds of pencils scratching and paper rustling fill the room. I have about ten minutes before Inez, our resident genius who skipped two grades, turns in her test early. Just enough time to get answers for my mom. Hopefully.

I log in and out of various health apps, trying to find out which doctor billed us for what. The specialist consultation and the labs from a month ago were paid off already with the last of my mom’s savings and my latest paycheck. The only outstanding bill we should have is for the hospital visit from a week ago, but I thought we’d already talked to someone about a payment plan.

When I can’t take it anymore, I text Chase. Not because he’s my fiancé of three years who I can count on for anything. To be honest, there isn’t much I can count on him for. He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I once caught the guy trying to microwave a Hydro Flask full of clam chowder. What he’s good at, though, is encouragement, and I need that.

ALICE

i’m dying in 2-factor authentication hell

save me

CHASE

u got this babe

His next text is a grainy image of a cat hanging from a tree, meowing “Hang in there!” in sparkly Comic Sans. It’s the kind of thing his grandmother forwards to him every week—and, by transitive property, the kind of thing Chase sends me when I’m feeling low.

CHASE

guess what

i’ve got super amazing LIFE CHANGING news!!!

The last time Chase told me he had “life-changing” news, he came home with a giant bottle of truffle parmesan oil with Guy Fieri’s face on it. He’d won the bottle in a raffle at work.

ALICE

i could use some good news.

You’re not at Costco are you?

if so, can you get me a hot dog

---