Chapter 1"$300 a month? That's more than enough!"
Mom screams this every time I say I'm broke.
To prove I'm the problem, she drags us onto a reality show—seven days, swapped lives.
Day One: She chokes down instant ramen for breakfast, eats canned beans for lunch, then walks six miles just to save bus fare.
On camera, she waves her phone. $295 left.
"See? I told you."
Comments explode:
"Spoiled brat just wants Starbucks every day."
"We survived on nothing—she's just entitled."
"Bet she blows it all on designer crap."
I just smile.
Because tomorrow morning? Her account drops to zero.
---
Before the show even started, Mom was already doing math for the cameras.
"Ramen noodles for breakfast, a dollar. Cafeteria salad for lunch, six bucks. Dinner? PB&J sandwich, three dollars. That's ten a day, three hundred a month."
She counted on her fingers, looking way too pleased with herself.
"And honestly? You don't even need three meals. Sleep through breakfast, boom, money saved. See? Three hundred is more than enough."
The host raised an eyebrow. "Besides food, don't college students have other expenses?"
Mom laughed like she'd just heard the world's dumbest question.
"What expenses? School doesn't charge her rent, right? Dorms, utilities, textbooks—all covered."
"She cries poor because she wants Starbucks and cute outfits. That's it."
The production team threw my spending log up on the big screen.
Print shop, $11.50. Campus store, $23. Metro card, $50. Laundry card, $20.
Mom jabbed a finger at the screen.
"Look at that. Not one thing she actually needed."
"Can't she just use her laptop? Hand wash in the sink? Campus is tiny—why's she taking the bus?"
Comments started pouring in.
"Mom's right. Kids nowadays are just too soft."
"We survived on pasta and ketchup back in the day."
"Three hundred might not be much, but she's got no bills. How's that not enough?"
Mom saw the comments and grinned so wide her wrinkles showed.
To prove I was the problem, she told the crew to freeze her bank account. Just $300 left.
No borrowing. No help from friends. And I couldn't warn her about anything.
"Whatever's left after seven days? She keeps it."
She patted her chest, all cocky.
"But she's gotta admit on TV that she's spoiled. Not that I'm a bad mom."
I looked at her. "You really wanna live exactly like I do?"
She rolled her eyes. "What, scared I'll bust you?"
Day One. Mom started with a packet of instant oatmeal, ninety-nine cents.
Lunch? Iceberg lettuce from the dining hall, drowned in free ranch.
Dinner? She skipped it completely and walked six miles to a tutoring job just to save four bucks on the bus.
By the time she dragged herself back to the dorm, her feet were screaming and her stomach felt like it was eating itself.
My roommate Quinn was sprawled on her bed scrolling TikTok. She glanced up and tossed Mom a protein bar.
Mom waved it off fast.
"Nope. I'm proving three hundred works. Taking your food's cheating."
She dropped onto her twin bed, wincing hard, and held her phone up to the camera mounted in the corner.
Balance: $295.
"See?" She looked way too smug.
"Full day of lectures, two meals, tutoring session. Only spent five bucks."
"Kids today don't struggle. They just want too much."
Comments exploded again, all praising her to the moon.
Mom rode that high and sent me a voice note.
"Better get ready to say sorry tomorrow. Don't even think about playing dumb."
I listened. Typed back one word.
"Sure."
Right before lights out, the class group chat lit up.
[This semester's required textbooks and access codes will be auto-charged from your student account tomorrow at 8 AM. Please make sure you have enough funds.]
Mom's face went tight.
"Wait, we gotta buy textbooks?"
Quinn sat up. "Uh, yeah? We always do."
"What? We already paid tuition. Now books too?"
Mom didn't buy it. She tagged the academic advisor in the chat.
"Do we really have to buy them? Can't we just share PDFs or something?"
The advisor replied in under a minute.
"This semester's materials are new editions with required online access codes. Old versions and PDFs won't work for assignments or exams."
Textbook cost: $128.
Mom's jaw clenched for half a second. Then she forced a smile.
"How often do we even buy textbooks? Once a semester? That's a special thing. Doesn't count as regular expenses."
She tossed her phone onto the nightstand and flopped back on her pillow.
"Even minus one-twenty-eight, I'll still have plenty left for food."
In the observation room, I sat watching the monitor feed, trying not to laugh out loud.
She had no clue.
Textbooks? That was just the first hit.
Next morning, her phone went off like a fire alarm.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Mom groaned and grabbed it, half-asleep and annoyed as hell.
Then she shot up like she'd been electrocuted.
"WHERE IS MY MONEY?!"
Her hands shook as she refreshed the screen over and over, eyes going wider each time.
But the number didn't budge.
Balance: $0.00
Chapter 2
Mom stumbled up to the camera in her pajamas, buttons all messed up.
"Where the hell's my money?!"
Her voice cracked. "I had almost three hundred last night—where'd it go?!"
The director nodded. Someone pulled up the charges on the livestream.
Textbooks: $128.
Dorm AC split: $36.50.
Campus data plan: $39.
Lab materials and printing: $46.50.
Software license: $45.
Every last dollar. Gone.
The chat froze for a second.
Then exploded.
"Wait she didn't even eat yet???"
"Wasn't she just saying textbooks don't count lmao"
"Holy crap I had no idea college cost this much"
Mom's face went bright red.
"Why am I paying for AC?! I didn't even use it!"
Quinn pointed at the ceiling. "That's last month's bill. We all split it four ways. Lily always pays upfront, then we pay her back."
Mom's eyes went wide like she caught something big.
"Oh so she's got money to cover you guys but tells me she's broke??"
Quinn actually laughed out loud. "Uh, yeah, because she's dorm captain. The RA makes her do it. And every time she fronts that cash? She skips meals for like a week straight."
Mom brushed right past that and jabbed at the screen.
"What's this thirty-nine bucks?? I already have a phone plan!"
Some crew guy piped up. "That's the campus network package. Required. You need it for class registration, dorm access, Wi-Fi—literally everything."
"And this software thing?? What am I gonna die without it??"
"All assignments go through it."
"Can't I just look at the lab stuff on my phone??"
"No phones in the lab. Printed manuals only. Safety rules."
Every answer just made her madder.
But she wouldn't back down.
"Whatever! These aren't everyday costs!"
"Books hit this month, fine, I'll just spend less next month. Problem solved."
The host couldn't help himself. "Okay but… what's she supposed to eat this month?"
Mom went quiet. Just for a second.
Then her chin came up.
"You figure it out. That's life. You can't just run crying to Mommy and Daddy every time things get hard."
She grabbed her bag and stormed out.
No bus money. Walked forty minutes across campus to the lab building.
Soon as she got there, the professor stuck out her hand.
"Manual."
Mom just stood there.
"My account got wiped out. Can I share with someone?"
Professor shook her head. "One per student. Safety protocols. No exceptions."
"Then I'll skip today and make it up later."
"This lab only runs once a week. Miss it, lose ten points."
Mom's voice jumped. "I'm not skipping because I'm lazy—I literally can't afford the printout! How's that fair??"
The professor's face went flat. "Syllabus went out three days ago. You're an adult. Act like it."
I sat in the observation room staring at the monitor.
That line.
She'd said that exact thing to me.
Last semester when I asked for textbook money.
"Everyone else figures it out. Why's it always you with problems?"
"You're grown now. Stop running home every time you need a couple bucks."
That day I cut paper at Kinko's for two hours just to get one lousy manual printed.
Mom got turned away at the door.
She stormed back to the dorm and went straight at the production crew.
"I need money."
The director kept his voice calm. "You signed the contract yourself. Seven days. Three hundred dollars."
"But I'm at zero! What am I supposed to eat?!"
"That's what your daughter lived with too."
Mom's mouth opened.
Then she spun toward the camera.
"That just means she sucks at planning!"
"If I'd known about all this, I would've saved ahead of time. Duh."
Quinn finally snapped.
"Saved?? Even if you saved every penny it still wouldn't cover this! Where were you gonna cut, huh??"
Mom's face went ice cold. "I'm talking to them. Did I ask you?"
Right then her phone buzzed once.
Service suspended—payment overdue.
The tutoring parent couldn't get through. Tonight's gig? Toast.
She just stared at the dead screen.
For the first time since this started, she didn't say anything at all.
Chapter 3
By noon the next day, Mom hadn't eaten in eighteen hours.
She dug through every pocket. Found one wrinkled dollar bill shoved way in the back.
One dollar. Couldn't even get rice.
She stood at the cafeteria counter looking like she was about to pass out.
The lunch lady saw the cameras and did a double take.
"Hold on—you're Lily's mom, right?"
Mom blinked. "Yeah? You know her?"
"Know her? That kid used to come in every night right before closing asking if there was any rice left over."
The lady's voice dropped. "Half the time she'd just buy pickles for like fifty cents and eat 'em with free soup. Thought y'all were going through something."
Mom's voice jumped.
"She gets three hundred bucks a month! How's she not eating??"
The lunch lady's whole face changed.
"Three hundred?"
"Sweetie that's barely food money."
Mom looked like she'd been slapped.
"What? I spent five bucks all day yesterday!"
The lady didn't argue. Just looked at her and said, "Okay but did you eat today?"
Mom's mouth snapped shut. Face went all tight.
Eventually the crew said she could front some cash from today's tutoring gig.
She called the parent. Turned out they'd been trying to reach her all morning. Phone was off so they got someone else.
Just like that. Only income she had? Gone.
That afternoon production dropped my real numbers.
Three hundred from Mom. About four hundred from work-study. Plus a two-thousand-dollar grant every semester.
Soon as Mom saw "grant" her eyes got huge.
"Wait she's getting two thousand??"
Some crew guy tried explaining. "That's the whole semester. Breaks down to maybe three hundred a month for books and bus passes and—"
Mom wasn't listening.
She whipped around to face the camera.
"I KNEW IT! She's been lying this whole time!"
"She doesn't just get three hundred—school's throwing money at her too! And she's out here acting like I'm starving her??"
The host's face went hard.
"That aid's for school expenses. It's not supposed to replace what you give her."
Mom actually laughed.
"Money hits her card it's her money. She's already getting paid—why would I give more??"
Chat lost its mind.
"omg she literally just lets the government cover it and acts PROUD"
"so taxpayers are raising your kid cool cool"
"the worst part isn't that she didn't know 300 wasn't enough it's that she KNOWS NOW and STILL won't help"
Mom stared at the screen getting redder and redder.
She couldn't prove three hundred was enough anymore. So now she was trying to say I shouldn't have gotten help at all.
"We own a house! We both have jobs! We're doing fine! Why's she even getting aid??"
Production pulled the application.
Dad on meds. Grandma no pension. Mortgage payments.
At the bottom under parent signature—Mom's name.
Host slid it across the table.
"You signed this."
Mom glanced down. Her voice got quieter real fast.
"Teacher said sign here so I signed. Didn't really read it."
"So is it accurate?"
"I mean yeah some of it but like—everyone's got stuff going on y'know?"
She shoved it back.
"Still don't think she should've gotten it."
I sat behind the glass and it finally hit me.
She didn't care if three hundred was enough or not.
She just couldn't stand being wrong.
