The Approval System

When I set the photocopy of my in-state residency transfer in front of my mom, she was absorbed in watching Calvin Pierce’s son, Noah Pierce, play video games.

I recognized the T-shirt Noah was wearing. I had seen it in a mall display window just last week. The price tag had four digits on it.

In contrast, the sweatshirt on my own body, which was washed so many times that it had faded, already had frayed cuffs.

"What does this mean?" Mom picked up the paper, her brows knitting into a tight knot.

I said calmly, "I transferred my in-state residency. I'll be living at school from now on."

The sound of the game stopped. Noah blinked those wide, innocent eyes of his.

"Bro, don't be angry," he said softly. "Mom is doing this for your own good."

Calvin walked over with a fruit platter and echoed him smoothly, "Miles, your mom doesn't earn money easily. Now that Noah is training in sports, our expenses are high. We're all family. We should be understanding of each other."

Such familiar rhetoric.

For three years, every time I wanted something, I heard this same version of "understanding".

"I'm not asking for permission," I said, looking at Mom. "I'm just informing you."

She reacted as if she had heard the biggest joke in the world. "Miles Hart, you've really grown wings, haven't you? Without me, you wouldn't even be able to pay your tuition!"

"I've already been recommended for admission. Tuition is fully waived. As for living expenses, I'll earn them myself."

"Recommended?" She froze for a moment, then turned to look at Calvin. "Is that true?"

Calvin's smile stiffened for a split second before quickly returning to normal.

"Oh, why didn't you say so earlier?" he said. "Look at the misunderstanding this caused... But even with a recommendation, it still costs money. The cost of living in Crownridge is so high..."

"I don't need your money." I cut him off. "For three years, every single dollar I spent in this house required an application and approval. Even buying a pen meant explaining its purpose.

"Noah, on the other hand, can freely use your supplementary card and treat his whole class to drinks."

Mom waved her hand impatiently. "Noah is younger and trains in sports. He needs nutritional supplements! You're already this old, and you're still being calculative about these things?"

"I'm not being calculative," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "That's why I'm leaving."

She clearly did not take me seriously. As I turned around, she added coldly, "Fine. If you have the guts, don't come back begging me! Let's see how long you can stay tough!"