It was the first day of the beginning of the school lectures for Rosetta, as she stepped into Haven University, her long dream had suddenly started taking shape.
Rosetta was happy as she doubled her steps with pride, heading straight for the lecture hall.
The lecture hall was filled with voices when Rosetta walked in. She held her books tightly, her steps hesitant as her eyes scanned the rows of seats.
Everyone looked polished, and confident, like they belonged here except for her, looking tacky in her neat outfit and out of place but she didn't care.
She kept her head down, didn't want to be noticed, and moved toward a seat near the back. A crumpled plastic bottle rolled into her path, and without thinking, she bent down, picked it up, and slipped it into a small bag in her pocket.
"Did she just bag that bottle?"
The voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the room. Rosetta froze, the bag still in her hand. Slowly, she turned her head.
A tall boy stood a few feet away, his smirk sharp enough to slice through her composure. "Seriously? You collect trash?"
Rosetta straightened, her cheeks burning. "It's for recycling," she said, quiet but firm.
"For recycling?" he repeated, laughing as he turned to his friends. "Or for rent money? What's the going rate for a plastic bottle these days?"
Laughter rippled through the nearby students.
Rosetta's chest tightened, but she refused to look away. "At least I'm doing something useful with it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Useful?" The boy tilted his head, his smirk widening. "You mean like finding dinner in a dumpster? Do you do that too?"
More laughter followed, louder this time.
Rosetta's grip on her books tightened. Her knuckles turned white, but she kept her head high as she made her way to a seat in the corner.
"Careful," the boy called after her. "She might start digging through your bags next."
The professor entered the room, calling the class to order. The laughter subsided, but Rosetta's face burned. She focused on her notebook, willing herself not to cry.
As the lecture ended, Rosetta stood quickly, hoping to slip out unnoticed.
"You're in my seat," the boy's voice said behind her.
She turned, finding him standing over her, his smirk firmly in place.
"This seat wasn't assigned," she said quietly, clutching her bag.
"Well, I'm assigning it now," he said, his tone mocking. "Move."
Rosetta stared at him momentarily, then stepped aside without a word.
He dropped into the seat, his friends joining him, their laughter echoing in her ears as she hurried out of the room.
That night, as she sat on her small bed, her grandfather's snores drifting softly from the next room, the boy's words replayed in her mind.
Her fingers brushed against the folded acceptance letter in her bag.
She blinked back tears, her jaw tightening. "I'll show them," she whispered into the dark. "I'll show all of them.."
Rosetta stands in front of a half-broken mirror hung on the wall in the room, looking at her pale reflection which is the opposite of her determination.
Pointing and smiling at her reflection '' Rosie you are the greatest trash picker ever to walk the surface of the earth.'' She spoke to herself feeling better, and then she went to bed, hoping for a better tomorrow
Rosetta pulled at the stiff collar of her uniform, her fingers fumbling with the buttons, feeling very nervous deep in her stomach.
The black vest was too tight, and the white shirt clung awkwardly to her arms, her full chest was almost bursting through the fully buttoned white shirt.
Glancing down at her scuffed shoes, feeling out of place in the glimmering hotel kitchen bustling with sharp voices and rattling dishes. Rosetta shook her head as she laughed at herself in her heart.
"George!" a woman's voice cut through her thought, and the noise, surrounding Rosetta with a sharp and commanding tone.
Rosetta turned quickly, almost knocking over the tray of empty glasses she'd been stacking.
The Hotel manager, Ms. Adler, strode toward her, her eyes narrowing behind thin-rimmed glasses.
"Table seven," Adler said briskly, handing a slip of paper into Rosetta's hand. "VIP guests. Do not mess this up."
"I won't," Rosetta said, gripping the paper tightly.
Adler gave her an unbelievable look, like she was doubting, then turned around and disappeared into the maze of kitchen staff.
Rosetta took in a deep breath and glanced at the paper. Table 7. She straightened her shoulders, chin up, balanced her tray, and pushed through the double doors into the grand ballroom.
The room was dazzling. Crystal chandeliers bathed the space in golden light, and the clinking of silverware and polite laughter filled the air. The atmosphere was lively, and the hall was beautiful.
Rosetta scanned the room, her eyes searching for table seven. When she found it, her heart dropped into her stomach with shock.
Sitting at the table, with the confidence of someone who'd never had to worry about anything, was Caleb Hart.
Her classmate.
The boy who'd mocked her that morning.
She froze for a second, gripping the tray so tightly her knuckles turned white. I'm not sure he would recognize me, she told herself. Just serve the drinks, do your job, and get out.
But as she approached the table, Caleb's gaze lifted, and his smirk appeared almost instantly.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, loud enough for the entire table to hear. " Who do we have here?."
Rosetta kept her head up, her face calm. "Good evening. May I take your orders?"
Caleb leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. "What's the deal, George? You pick trash during the day and serve it at night? A double shift in humiliation?"
Laughter erupted around the table, and Rosetta's ears burned, but she didn't flinch.
"I'll take a whiskey," Caleb continued, his voice dripping with mock politeness. " And make it quick. After all, I'm sure you've got other tables to serve."
"Of course," Rosetta said evenly, ignoring the sting of his words. She turned to the other guests, her voice steady as she took their drink orders.
When she walked away, tray balanced carefully in her hands, she could still hear him laughing behind her.
Back in the kitchen, Rosetta leaned against the counter as the bartender prepared the drinks.
"Table seven is giving you a tough time, huh?" the bartender asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.
She shook her head quickly. "It's okay, nothing to worry about."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't push further.
When the drinks were ready, Rosetta carried the tray back into the ballroom. Caleb's voice was heard across the room before she even reached the table.
"…and I couldn't believe it. She bagged the bottle like she was saving it for later. Who does that?"
More laughter echoed from the other students.
Rosetta approached silently, setting the whiskey down in front of Caleb.
"Still acting all tough, huh?" he said, looking up at her with a mockingly. "Impressive. I figured you'd quit by now."
"Is there anything else I can get for you?" Rosetta asked, her voice steady, refusing to give him the reaction he was looking for.
Caleb tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Yeah. An explanation. How'd someone like you get into Haven? Charity slot? Special consideration? Or do they just take anyone these days?"
The laughter this time was softer, more amused than outright mocking.
Rosetta straightened, her voice unwavering. "If you need anything else, please let me know."
She turned around and walked away, refusing to look back even as she heard Caleb mutter, "Unbelievable."
The rest of her shift passed in a blur of polite smiles and aching feet. Rosetta kept her head down, focused on pouring drinks and clearing plates.
By the time the last guests left and the ballroom was empty, she was exhausted.
"George!" Adler's voice rang out as Rosetta stacked a tray of empty glasses.
She turned quickly. "Yes, Ma'am?"
Adler walked over, with her clipboard tucked under her arm. "Not bad for your first night. Be here tomorrow, same time. And remember, customers and VIPs always come first."
"Yes, ma'am," Rosetta said quietly, relief and joy overflowing in her heart.
Adler nodded quickly and disappeared, leaving Rosetta alone in the quiet ballroom.
As Rosetta walked home that night, her shoes scuffing against the pavement, with feet burning inside, Caleb's words replayed in her mind.
"You pick trash during the day and serve as a waitress at night… a double shift in humiliation."
Her jaw tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She thought of Haven University, of the acceptance letter still tucked safely in her bag. She thought of the tuition she needed to pay and the long hours she'd have to work to afford it.
"I'll prove him wrong," she whispered, her breath fogging in the cool night air. "I'll prove them all wrong."
When she reached the small house she shared with her grandfather, she paused for a moment, looking up at the worn roof and the single porch light glowing dimly.
Her grandfather's voice echoed in her mind. "You've got that fire in you, Rosie. Don't let anyone snuff it out."
She smiled faintly, stepping inside and closing the door quietly behind her.
After checking on her grandfather who was soundly asleep, she kissed his cheek and tiptoed to wash up herself, too tired for a cold meal, she fell on the small thin foam mattress and dozed off.
Grandpa Thomas slowly opened his eyes, intently gazing at her for a few seconds, with memories of Rosetta's struggles in life. He then lay back and slept with a heavy heart about Rosetta's future.