What We Must Sacrifice.

"Here, have some more of this swiss chocolate. Just the best for my plumpkin."
I broke off a moderately small piece and with feigned gratitude I put it in my mouth.
"Go on. Take everything. I want you to."
"No, thanks, I'm stuffed."
"Oh, just take it. Do you know how much we paid for that? And remember, we're doing it all just because we love you."
I didn't ask for any of it, I thought. Yet, since I was an obedient boy, I suppressed my urge to vomit and ate the rest of it.

My smartphone started ringing. 
"Daddy, would you excuse me, please?"
"There's no need for that, plumpkin. Whatever they want from you is not nearly as important as an evening with family."
However, I was curious. All men desire knowledge, right? At least that's what the hairy old person in my textbook said.
I carefully looked at my phone underneath the table. It felt like I was undertaking a great risk doing so. The screen read:  Missed Call (1): Timmy

Timmy was my best friend. He was the only poor kid on my school. He got a scholarship, because he was smart. A lot of people used to make fun of him, but I liked him. He was nice. I wasn't allowed to visit him, though, because he lived in a neighborhood that wasn't as nice as the one my family lives in. That's why my dad got a cellphone for Timmy. Timmy's parents couldn't afford it and my dad wanted me to be able to keep in touch with my best friend. We used to call a lot. When dad got him this phone, he allowed him to have only one number saved: mine. But why would Timmy call me now? I was very curious.

"Plumpkin, what are you looking at? Rather take a look at this, a documentary about dolphins! It's lovely and very educating. I'm sure you love dolphins."
I hate dolphins. Fuck dolphins.

xxx

Next morning I got up and went to school. Like all the good kids do. 7:53 and I was at my locker. Perfect, just like always. Except Timmy wasn't there. He's always there at 7:53.
He didn't show up in school at all that day.
Only his parents came in the afternoon. They were crying.
I never saw Timmy again.