Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 104

He knew how to cook, but that didn’t mean he could cook outdoors.

Starting a fire–that was what really tripped him up.

He struggled for ages, ending up with soot smeared across his face, but still couldn’t get the fire going. She was different. As a kid, whenever school was out, she’d run off to the countryside, spending her days climbing trees, starting campfires, hunting for birds‘ nests with the local kids–she’d done it all.

So, watching him fumble from her own campsite nearby, she finally couldn’t stand it anymore. She walked over, emptied out the ashes, and expertly got a new fire going.

He stared at the sudden, roaring flames, looking a little dazed. Maybe he realized how ridiculous he must’ve looked, because he didn’t even manage to thank her.

But after that, he found his rhythm. The way he sliced vegetables and stirred the pan made it obvious–he must do all the cooking at home.

That was the only time she ever got to eat something he made.

His group wasn’t completely heartless, either. They all knew the meal was only happening thanks to him, so when it was time to eat, someone handed him the

chicken drumstick.

He didn’t eat it. When he passed by her group, he slipped the drumstick into her bowl.

Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. That drumstick sat there, glistening with oil, and she was too nervous to touch it–just looking at it felt blinding.

In the end, it took her half an hour to get through it, picking at it little by little. She couldn’t even remember what it tasted like.

That was one of the few moments they ever shared.

That night, she dreamed about him–his face streaked with soot and ash, his long, slender fingers chopping vegetables, the way he focused intently while cooking…

The next day in class, she glanced at his back and filled an entire page of her notebook with his name: “Theodore.”

She had no idea what happened to that page, but those three letters burned themselves into her memory and never faded.

She once told people she’d asked him a question.

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She really had.

He probably forgot.

It was after a parent–teacher conference. The teacher was checking off which students‘ parents hadn’t shown up, and she was one of them.

So was he.

They ended up standing in the hallway together, along with a few other boys, as punishment.

The boys whispered to each other about why their parents didn’t come. Most of them hadn’t even told their parents about the meeting–they were too scared of getting in trouble for bad grades.

But Theodore was different.

“Theodore, you’re top of the class–why didn’t your parents come? If I got your grades, my mom, dad, both sets of grandparents, all of them would fight to show up,” one boy asked, genuinely curious.

Emma found that odd, and shot back, “Wait, your parents and both sets of grandparents–that’s six people. Where’s the seventh?”

“My dog!” the boy declared, making Emma and the others laugh, the tension dissipating for a moment.

But then someone else echoed, “Yeah, Theodore, with grades like yours, why weren’t your parents at the meeting?”

Theodore just replied coolly, “Don’t ask. They’re dead.”

The other boys fell silent, too shocked to speak. But only Emma knew–if his parents were really dead, that’s not how he would’ve said it.

That afternoon, after class, she witnessed something she never should have seen, and finally caught a glimpse of the truth.

He stood in a forgotten corner by the school’s back gate. A luxury car pulled up in front of him. The window rolled down, and someone inside threw a wad of cash at his face–bills fluttering everywhere. A hand jabbed at him accusingly.

“Money, money, money! All you ever want is money, you little leech! Take it!”

Emma froze. She’d never imagined his family was like this.

He stood his ground, refusing to pick up the cash.

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She heard his cold reply: “Forget it. From now on, I’ll never take your money again.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

The person in the car jumped out and chased after him, shouting, “Fine! If you’re so tough, don’t come crawling back for money! Let’s see how you survive!”

The setting sun that day was dazzling, gilding him in gold as he walked away. He laughed–defiant, reckless–calling back over his shoulder, “Don’t worry. Even if I had to find a sugar mama, I wouldn’t come running back to you!”

Emma was stunned. What kind of thing was that to say? It shocked her, hearing something so brazen from a high school boy.

But then again, she’d heard worse at home. Her mother always yelled that she was a waste of food, that she might as well just sell herself…

Whenever her mother said those things, Emma was so ashamed she wished she’d never been born. She’d bite her lip until it bled, just to keep the tears from spilling over. But for him to say something like that about himself–how much pain did he

have to be in?

The same golden sunlight bathed them both in that moment, shining down into the matching shadows in each of their hearts.

She didn’t know where her courage came from, but she marched over to him, wide–eyed, and blurted out, “Theodore, don’t you dare let anyone keep you!”

She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but for a split second, she thought she saw tears shining in his eyes under the sunset.

He turned away quickly, a bitter laugh escaping him. “What, are you going to be my sugar mama?”

Emma said nothing.

That was probably Theodore at his most reckless, his most vulnerable. Even now, years later, he’d never been as fragile as he was in that moment.

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Chapter 105