I looked at him, so self-righteous and couldn’t help but laugh a little. For the past two weeks, I’d been sleeping only three or four hours a night, my throat hoarse and sore, still pushing through every live stream.
The team had been gnawing on cold buns and sleeping on army cots with me. What were we after? We just wanted the villagers to have a better life.
But now? They took the money they’d just earned and turned around to argue with me over tasting mangoes.
I looked down at the corners of my mouth, worn raw and suddenly couldn’t understand what I had been busy with for the past two weeks.
Seeing me silent, my uncle pointed at my nose and scolded, “Lora, you’ve forgotten your roots! Back then, your parents were dirt poor. If the village hadn’t helped cover your tuition, would you even have made it this far? When you were in school, you ate at our house every day and now you’re quibbling with us over this petty money?”
“Exactly! We treated you better than our own daughter. You can’t be so ungrateful!”
A few elders joined in, pointing fingers, “You shouldn’t have even sent her to school—look at the ungrateful child she’s turned out to be!”