Lily’s heart pounded in her ears. Five hundred. The money in her backpack felt like nothing now.
Rachel shifted beside her, tense. Max sat alert, ears twitching, as the first bid rang out: “$500,” called a man in the crowd.
Vince casually lifted one finger. “One thousand,” he said. Bennett replied almost instantly, “Fifteen hundred.” The bids climbed fast, the crowd’s voices rising with the tension in the air.
Lily inched forward. The auctioneer paused, gavel raised. “Any other bids?” he asked. Lily’s voice, rusty from disuse, rose faintly but determined. The jar of coins in her hands clinked as she moved.
Her legs felt like lead, her chest tight with pressure. She lifted the jar and whispered, “I want to bid.”
The room fell quiet. The auctioneer looked at her with an aching gentleness. “How much, sweetheart?” Lily held the jar up. “Fifty-two dollars and sixteen cents.”
A snide laugh broke the silence. Vince smirked. The auctioneer crouched, taking the jar as if it were a treasure. “Thank you,” he said softly.
But then he shook his head. “It’s not enough.”
Max whined — low, long, and painful. The sound echoed, touching something deep inside the crowd.
Lily wanted to run, to disappear under all the watching eyes. But as she turned, Max barked — loud and clear, a command that cut through the noise.
Everything stilled. And in that moment, Lily understood: she wasn’t just trying to buy a dog. She was reaching for the last real part of her mother, the one piece still breathing.
