The price tag on the box was perfectly visible.

$500.

The caption was short: "Mom bought these for me. Love you ️"

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Five hundred dollars' worth of sneakers. No invoice. No receipt. No official stamp. Bought without a second thought.

Fifty dollars for a materials fee, and I had to stand in front of my entire class for half an hour. Had to beg for a receipt, beg for a stamp, had to grind my dignity into the floor before she'd transfer the money.

I gripped my phone, tilted my head back, and shoved that breath down hard.

Something was pushing up behind my eyes. I didn't let it out.

A draft blew through the hallway. Cold.

Back in my dorm, I pulled up Brody's profile and scrolled from the top.

Two weeks ago, Mom bought him the latest gaming console. $450.

Last Thursday, a screenshot of a $2,500 transfer appeared in one of his posts. The memo was spelled out in full: "For my baby boy's gaming fund. Enjoy every penny."

Twenty-five hundred dollars.

For video games.

I set my phone down and looked at the text notification showing my meal card balance.

$2.13.

That was all the money I had for the week.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number. The header read: Weston University Admissions Office.

My heart stopped. I opened it.

"Ms. Pruitt, your tuition and fees remain unpaid. The payment portal for this enrollment cycle will close tomorrow at 10:00 PM. If payment is not completed by the deadline, your admission will be revoked. Please remit the full amount of $1,300 before the cutoff. No extensions will be granted."

I stared at those words. A low ringing filled my skull.

Thirteen hundred dollars.

I turned the phone over in my hands three times, making sure it wasn't a scam. Checked the sender against the number listed on the admissions office website. Confirmed the deadline was tomorrow night at ten.

Then I set the phone down on the desk, slowly.

My hands started to shake.

$2.13 on my meal card. Nothing in my wallet. Nothing in my bank account. Even the little bit I'd scraped together last month from selling recyclables, money I'd been saving for exactly this kind of emergency, Mom had taken all of it last week. Said she'd hold onto it for me.

I took a deep breath and sent my mother a message.