I kept my head down, paid the fee, turned around, and walked out. That was when I opened Brody Abbott's social media.
His latest post was from noon today.
In the photo, he was hugging a pair of brand-new limited-edition sneakers, grinning at his reflection in the mirror like he'd won the lottery.
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.