Chapter 4

In November, the college announced that students had to pay a 280-dollar fee for a practicum course.

My student advisor, Greg Reddington, posted in the class group chat that it was a mandatory course, and whoever didn't pay wouldn't be placed on the practicum list, which would then affect our credits.

I screenshotted the notice and sent it to Mom, along with the payment link and the official document issued by the department.

She replied, "Pending review."

I waited a day. Then two.

On the third night, the class representative messaged me privately.

"Malcolm, the portal closes at 10:00 am tomorrow. You're the only one left."

I called Mom. The first time, nobody picked up. The second time, it was Mikey who answered. Loud music was blasting in the background.

"Malcolm, Mom's celebrating my birthday right now. What do you need this time?"

I glanced at the time. 9:40 pm.

"Put Mom on the phone. The deadline to pay my practicum fee is coming up," I said, my voice tight.

"It's about money again?" Mikey asked, dragging out the last word. "Bro, every time you call, you sound like you're collecting a debt."

Michele's laughter came from somewhere in the background. "Isn't he an expert at writing request forms? Tell him to submit the paperwork and go through the proper procedure."

A moment later, Mom got on the phone. "Talk."

I explained the situation to her all over again. When I finished, the only thing she said was, "Give me your advisor's number."

"Mom, it's really late right now."

"So what if it's late? If it were really urgent, your advisor would still answer, wouldn't they?"

My palms were slick with sweat.

"Can you just transfer it to me first? I'll pay it and send you the receipt right away."

She let out a cold laugh. "That way you can just get the money first, and then we can figure out the rest later, huh? Malcolm, you're getting better and better at using the college to pressure me."

My hands shook from anxiety. "I'm not. This is a mandatory course."

"Malcolm, you didn't blow through all your money, did you?" Mikey added airily from the side.

Michele chimed in even faster. "Mom, be careful. There are college kids these days who use their tuition money to buy shoes and stuff, and then turn around and claim that their parents didn't give them the tuition money."

My voice turned hoarse. "I didn't."

"Then start a video call. Show me your whole dorm room—your closet, your backpack, everything."

I froze. The hallway lights were blindingly bright.

Leaning against the wall, I suddenly felt like an item sitting on a store shelf. She could inspect me however she wanted.

"Mom, I'm a person, not a warehouse."

The line went quiet for a second before she exploded.

"If you have nothing to hide, what are you afraid of? I pay for your education, and I don't even have the right to take a look?"

"Malcolm, don't be stubborn," Phillip said quietly, trying to persuade me. "Just write a statement promising that from now on, any expenses over five dollars will be submitted for approval in advance, and that you won't borrow money on your own."

Hearing the words "you won't borrow money on your own", the last bit of warmth inside me died out.

The portal was about to close. I quickly borrowed 280 dollars from my roommate and paid the fee first. As soon as I sent the screenshot of the payment confirmation to the class group chat, the class representative let out a sigh of relief.

"Received. Malcolm has paid."

Ten minutes later, Greg sent me a message.

"Malcolm, please come to my office."

When I arrived, two other lecturers were there. Greg looked at me with a complicated expression.

"Your mother just called. She said you borrowed money privately without your family's permission."

I stood there, my face gradually burning with embarrassment.

He put his phone on speaker, and Mom's voice came through the speaker.

"Mr. Reddington, it's not that I won't give him the money, but he's got his own idea about things. I told him to follow the proper procedure, yet he insisted on borrowing money behind my back. The college can't encourage this kind of behavior. If he really paid the money, tell him to drop the course."

My chest felt suffocatingly tight.

Greg frowned. "Ms. Bradbery, this is a required practicum course for his major."

"What good is all that for a college student?" Mom snapped back immediately. "Isn't finding a stable job in the future better than going through all this trouble?

"Besides, by borrowing money from someone else, he's telling the whole campus that I can't afford to raise him! He might not care about his reputation, but I care about mine!"

The office went terrifyingly quiet. I even saw one of the lecturers look away.

Mom continued, "Malcolm, do you hear me? If you drop the course right now, I'll keep taking care of you in the future. But if you dare make your own decisions, don't ask me for a single penny ever again after this."

I stood there. And suddenly, I stopped shaking.

It was strange. It turned out that when all hope died, it wasn't some dramatic, loud collapse. It was simply the sudden realization that no matter how much more it hurt, it couldn't possibly hurt any worse than this.

"No need to wait for the future. Starting right now, I won't ask you for anything."

I hung up and pulled up my contacts.

At the top of my emergency contacts was Mom. I tapped it, deleted the entry, and created a new ordinary contact under "Agnes Bradbery".

Then I looked at Greg apologetically.

"Greg, I'd like to apply for a student loan. And I'd also like to ask if the school has any emergency financial aid available for students in need."

Pausing for a moment, I added, "In the future, if the school needs to contact me, please just call my personal number."

Outside the window, the wind rattled the tree leaves loudly. It sounded as though something old had detached completely from my body and fallen away.

And I didn't turn around to pick it up.