Chapter 2

College life became a survival game for me.

Afraid of having the remaining 300 dollars deducted even further, I lived like a finely tuned machine.

Every day at 6:00 am, I got up to memorize vocabulary. To save money on breakfast, I filled up on tap water.

The cheapest vegetable dish in the cafeteria cost 2 dollars and 50 cents. I ordered just one portion per meal and took advantage of the free refills on soup.

When my roommates invited me out for pizza, I always made excuses about being on a diet. When the class had group dinners, I always said I was busy.

Soon enough, I became known as the weirdo among my classmates. But I didn't care, because I just wanted to survive.

Yet, the body is not a machine. When the first flu of winter hit, I caught it. My fever was 104 degrees Fahrenheit. I felt like I'd been tossed into a furnace that even my bones ached from the heat.

I lay in my dorm bed, too weak to even get up and pour myself a glass of water.

My phone buzzed.

It was Boss—the name I'd save for my mother.

"Where's this week's weekly report? Why haven't you sent it yet?"

The weekly report was another yoke she'd placed on me.

Every Sunday before 8:00 pm, I had to report my study progress, a detailed breakdown of my expenses, and my plan for the following week in no fewer than a thousand words.

I forced my heavy eyelids open and typed with trembling fingers, "Mom, I have a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, so can I send the report a little later?"

The message disappeared into the void.

Ten minutes later, my phone rang.

It wasn't a concerned reply, but a transfer notification.

"Venmo payment received—0.01 dollars."

Immediately after came her voice message.

"Sabrina, physical fitness is also an important component of workplace competitiveness. Dropping the ball at a critical moment proves that your usual health management is completely inadequate.

"Given that you failed to submit your weekly report on time this week and were absent from the evening study session due to illness, your perfect attendance bonus for this month is canceled.

"And your performance rating is a C. Your living allowance for next month will be suspended as a disciplinary measure."

As I listened to Mom's icy voice, tears fell one after another into my pillow.

Suspended? I didn't even have the money to buy fever medicine right now. In fact, I only had 12 dollars and 50 cents left on my card.

"Mom, I'm really suffering. Can you lend me 100 dollars to buy medicine? Consider it an advance on my salary."

My voice trembled as I sent that voice message.

After a long while, she replied, "There's no precedent for salary advances in this company. Figure it out yourself. Don't expect the company to bail you out of everything."

In that moment, I felt like dying.

Burning with fever, I drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling like I might not make it.

My roommate, Jeannette Wood, noticed something was seriously wrong with me. Without a second thought, she carried me on her back to the campus clinic.

Registration, blood tests, and IV fluids came to over 300 dollars in total.

Jeannette covered it for me.

I watched the medicine dripping from the IV bottle, and instead of feeling grateful, all I could think was "How am I ever going to pay Jeannette back?"

The next day, as soon as my fever broke, I secretly pulled out the needle without telling anyone and went to an illegal blood collection station.

I couldn't afford to wait for legal blood donations, since there was a waiting period between donations.

The illegal clinic reeked of cigarette smoke, and the needles were frighteningly thick.

"You get paid 320 dollars for 400ml of blood," the man said, tossing a few crumpled bills at me.

I paid Jeannette back with that money and bought two bread rolls with what was left.

Biting into the cold bread roll, I opened my Instagram feed and saw a new post from Mom.

The photo showed Rodney wearing a brand-new pair of Nike shoes, with a lobster platter laid out in front of him.

The caption read, "Empowering a high-potential stock. Only with good nutrition can the brain work fast. Rodney, you've got this. I'll always have your back, no matter what."

The timestamp was exactly when I was burning up with a fever, begging her to lend me 100 dollars for medicine.

I chewed on the bread roll as tears and snot ran down my face. It turned out that in Mom's project portfolio, I was the non-performing asset that could be written off at any time.