My mother was terrified I’d waste money in college, so she set my parental control debit card to a transaction limit of exactly fifty cents. If I wanted to buy a $12 breakfast burrito from a food truck, I had to stand at the window and swipe my card twenty-four times. "Mom, this is incredibly inconvenient." "Sweetie, I'm doing this for your own good. It's to break your bad habit of spending money. Who spends like you do? If you act like this, your future mother-in-law will say I raised you with no manners." "But Mom, I hold up the line every single day just to buy lunch." "Standing longer is good for your health. Besides, everyone struggles in college. I treat you well enough. The problem is you’re buying expensive things. And Penny, talking back to your mother is disrespectful." Protest was futile. I went back to my days of hunger and humiliation. Until one day, a sports car nearly killed me, and the settlement check was for five million dollars. 1 "Are you done yet? There's a huge line behind you. How many more times do you have to tap that thing?" I felt like an ant on a hot skillet, repeatedly tapping my phone against the food truck’s square reader. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50. The robotic voice of the payment terminal echoed my embarrassment over and over. Passersby stopped to stare. "Dude, cancel my order. If I wait for her to finish, I'm gonna be late for class," a guy behind me groaned. The crowd chimed in immediately. "Yeah, forget it. I'm out." "This is ridiculous." The complaints grew louder. The food truck owner looked panicked, trying to calm everyone down. "Miss, how much longer?" Just then, my old, beat-up phone froze. I frantically swiped the screen, but it was stuck on the processing wheel. Transaction Failed. Please Try Again. The error message hit me like a bucket of ice water. I lowered my head, face burning. "Let them go first," I whispered. "About time," someone scoffed. "Some people think their time is the only time that matters." "I'm never eating here again," another muttered. The owner forced a smile at the departing customers, but when he looked at me, his expression was dark. Once the line cleared, I pulled out my phone again. Beep. Transaction Approved: $0.50... That sound, the soundtrack of my nightmare, rang out again. Finally, after the last swipe, I thought, At least I get to eat. "Don't come back here," the owner said, handing me the cold burrito. "I'm trying to run a business. You're driving away my customers." He looked at me like I was trash. I walked away, head down. "Transaction Approved: $0.50." Usually, that final beep meant relief. Today, it just sounded like mockery. I was late for my lecture. I slipped into the back row, but I could hear the whispers. "That's her. The girl who swiped her card twenty-four times for a burrito." "For real? Who does that?" "I was there. It was painful." "She's already on the campus 'Confessions' page. Someone filmed her." "Does she know?" "Does that cavewoman even know what Instagram is?" Laughter rippled through the room. The burrito in my hand was ice cold. I kept my head down, picking at my ragged, bitten fingernails. 2 I went back to the dorm, depressed, and ate the cold burrito. It tasted like sawdust. My phone had been ringing for a while, but I didn't notice until I finished eating. It was Mom. I called her back multiple times. User Busy. I knew the drill. She was punishing me for missing her call. Exhausted, I figured she'd get over it and crawled into bed. Around 2:00 AM, I woke up with a start. A warm, damp sensation. I panicked, digging through my suitcase until I found the very last pad hidden in a side pocket. Seeing it gave me a tiny bit of relief. Trying not to wake my roommates, I tiptoed to the bathroom. When I pulled down my pants, I almost fainted. It was a massacre. Old blood, new blood—a heavy, crimson mess. I panted, cleaning myself up and changing my underwear. I couldn't sleep after that. The cramps came in waves, getting sharper and heavier each time. My flow was so heavy that the single regular pad I had was already struggling. When the sun finally came up, I grabbed my laggy phone and ran to the campus convenience store. I grabbed a pack of pads and a bottle of Ibuprofen. Total: $36. That meant 72 transactions. The shame of yesterday weighed on me, but the store was empty. I asked the cashier, an older lady, if I could pay in fifty-cent increments. She looked confused but nodded kindly. Her smile made me want to cry. I went to pay the first fifty cents. Transaction Declined. I tried again. And again. My hands shook as I checked the banking app. The primary account holder has disabled this card. Panic set in. Mom was still mad. If I just apologized, she'd turn it back on. I called. No answer. The pain forced me into a squat on the linoleum floor. I curled into a ball, trying to breathe through the cramps and the suffocating fear. "Honey, are you okay?" the cashier asked. Her concern broke me. Just then, the phone connected. "Hello?" "Mom, it's me," I gasped. "Can you Zelle me $36? Or turn the card back on? I need pads and medicine." Silence on the other end. "Mom? I can tap it fifty cents at a time, I don't mind..." Then came the roar. 3 "Oh, it's you. Who else calls just to beg for money?" "Go ask around! Who else has a daughter like you? I raised you, fed you, clothed you, and you’re just a bottomless pit! I saw the transaction log yesterday. A bowl of oatmeal is $2. That’s four swipes. But no, you had to go live it up and swipe 24 times? What did you buy? Gold?" "And now you need medicine? I never took painkillers in my life. You're just trying to scam money to go party, aren't you?" The accusations were like physical blows. I choked back a sob. "Mom, okay, just the pads then. They're $15. Please." "How are you ever going to find a husband spending money like this? I raised you so you could marry well, get a big bride price, and buy your brother a house. With your spending habits, who will want you? In my day, we used rags!" She paused. "Fine. Write a contract. Kneel down, write it out, send me a photo, and I'll transfer the money." People were starting to come into the store. I had no choice. I begged the cashier for a pen and paper and knelt on the floor, clutching my stomach. 1. I will always listen to Mom. 2. When I marry, all financial gifts go to my brother. 3. ... 999. ... I wrote until my hand cramped, fighting the pain in my uterus. When I looked up, I saw phones pointing at me. I knew I was going to be famous on campus again. Ding. You received $5.00. "That's five times your allowance. Buy some tissues and make do," Mom said, and hung up. Something inside me shattered. I knelt there, too exhausted to stand. The paper was filled with tiny words, a manifesto of my enslavement. "I don't want them," I whispered to the cashier. I walked back to the dorm bent over like an old woman. I could feel the chafing, the wetness. It felt like bugs crawling on my skin. "Sarah, can I borrow a pad? I'll pay you back." "No." Sarah, who had just been laughing with our other roommates, turned cold instantly. "Penny, was that you making all that noise in the bathroom last night?" another roommate asked, disgust in her eyes. "Yeah, sorry..." "Well, don't blame Sarah. You woke us all up. Sarah has dark circles because of you." I picked at my fingers, guilty. "I'm sorry." "Hahaha." They exchanged wicked glances. 4 "Tell you what," Sarah said. "Go pick up my DoorDash order, and then go to the mailroom and bring up my 99 Amazon packages. I'll give you $10." "Deal." I answered without hesitation. They looked shocked. They thought they were humiliating me, but they didn't know that $10 was a fortune to me. With Mom's $5, I could buy the pads. "Oh, and you have to run ten laps around the track while barking like a dog," Sarah added, smirking. "Fine." I spent the next hour lugging boxes up six flights of stairs. Then I fetched the food. "Ew, your hands are sweaty," Sarah said when I handed her the bag. "How am I supposed to eat this?" I wiped the handles with my last few tissues. Then, I went to the track. My stomach was screaming. I stepped onto the rubber surface. "Woof! Woof!" I barked shamelessly. Students stared at me like I was a lunatic. Couples detoured to avoid the "crazy girl." Some pulled out phones to record. I ran. My lower abdomen felt like it was filled with lead. I was running like a woman in labor. Sweat stung my eyes. By lap five, I collapsed. The mixture of sweat and blood was unbearable. I pulled out my phone and called Mom. "Hello? Who is this?" "Mom, it's me. I need $10." "Penny? You jinx! You open your mouth and it's always money! I gave you $5 this morning! Why don't you find a sugar daddy to pay for your brother's down payment instead of bothering me? No money!" She didn't even have my number saved. Five laps left. I ran on pure willpower. The barking got quieter. By the time I finished, most of the spectators had left. I collected the crumpled $10 bill from Sarah and bought the pads. In the bathroom stall, the smell of sweat and blood was overwhelming. I changed, crying silently so I wouldn't annoy my roommates again. Back in the room, they were laughing. "Did you see the video? Penny barking and running?" "Yeah, I was there! Hilarious." "Who degrades themselves for ten bucks?" "I'll give her $20 tomorrow to see what else she'll do." I couldn't sleep. I went outside to cry. Honk! A sports car came flying around the corner. I stood there, frozen, too tired to move. Bang! My skinny body flew through the air. I landed on the asphalt. Weirdly, it didn't hurt. I felt light. Free. Finally, I thought. It's over.
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