My roommate showed up with a trash bag full of belongings, but then claimed to be a rich kid. She bragged about having a dozen maids, her mom changing into two new designer dresses daily, and her dad being a CEO who handled multi-million dollar deals. She looked at us proudly, saying once her parents visited, she'd have them buy a mansion in the university district and let us all move in. No one in the dorm replied. She only owned two T-shirts. During basic training, she couldn't wash them fast enough and smelled awful. She couldn't even afford body wash. Not just the dorm, the whole class hated her. On the last day of training, she was bragging again about being a pampered heiress with delicate skin. Mid-brag, she collapsed. I nudged her with my foot. "Hey, are you seriously still acting?" I rolled my eyes all the way to the ambulance. "Can you even afford the EMT bill?" But she looked like she was actually dying. 1 She genuinely couldn't pay the ambulance bill. She looked at me, eyes wide, forcing a nervous smile. "Cheryl, loan me a thousand bucks? I'll contact my parents and make sure they pay you back ten times over!" I rolled my eyes and slammed the door. You don't pull a scam like that. She started breathing hard, trying to defend herself. "My dad is super rich and busy! He's hard to reach! My mom's probably at the spa, she doesn't check her phone!" The doctor stopped me, saying she had some congenital heart defect—a "rich person's disease." I scoffed. "If she's rich, I'm the Queen of England." When I got back to the dorm, two roommates were packing. They said they couldn't stand her and were moving out. They invited me, but I glanced at her dirty bed. My mom only gave me $\$300$ for the month. I couldn't afford the rent split. On the first day of classes, she returned. She wore a new T-shirt, but it was still a $\$10$ bargain bin tee—white, wrinkled, with a tiny flower print. She looked at me, waving enthusiastically. Then, remembering something, she shoved her hands in her pockets and looked away. "Your money... I forgot to ask my parents. But don't worry, I'll pay you back this month." I sneered, ignoring her. I figured her parents had come and just refused to help. I wrote off the thousand bucks as money down the drain. She painfully climbed her bunk, looking weak. I sat on my bed, reading, ignoring her. She suddenly peeked down. "You're a good person, Cheryl. You're my friend." Who wants to be her friend? I popped my gum. "Pay me back first, then we'll talk." 2 The class was applying for financial aid. I kindly reminded her. "You can barely eat. Applying won't hurt." She pouted. "I'm just watching my figure. Mind your business." She grabbed her book and left. I didn't know where she went. She didn't have a phone; no one could reach her. She did have an old, beat-up phone when we started, but she sold it for a thousand bucks. She gave me the cash, but I insisted on a transfer. She marched off to the bank, cursing me all the way. "Cash is safer! Virtual money is fake!" I suspected her family lived somewhere without internet. She came back late that night, burning up with fever. I didn't ask what happened. She smiled. "Don't worry, just a seasonal flu. I'll sleep it off." I'm only worried she'll die here and I'll have to deal with the cops. I accidentally left my closet unlocked. I heard her sneak down and rummage through my things. She found a bottle of fever reducer and happily took it. The next day, she was fine. I hated that she stole from me, so I went to the Dean and got her the financial aid application. That was the first time she lost it. She tore the paper to shreds, tears streaming down her face. "Cheryl, who do you think you are? I don't need this! My parents are rich, and I'll have money when they visit! I don't want your fake pity!" The other roommates pulled me away. "Why bother with her? She's nuts." She looked down from her bunk. "I'm not nuts. I have emotional issues." No one listened. We went out for a big meal, leaving her behind. I swore I'd never pity her again. 3 She was angry, too, sitting alone in the corner during class. We couldn't understand why she studied so hard. The professor loved her, constantly praising her test scores, saying she was too good for our school. I saw her scores: 661. Only 50 points higher than mine. She only came here because the school paid her tuition. Why pretend? She'd smile shyly, push her greasy hair behind her ear, and say brightly, "Professor, you're nice. I'll tell my parents to get you a promotion when they visit." She was so annoying. Even more annoying: the Dean told me she didn't qualify for financial aid. Why is she living like a pauper then? I swore I'd never lend her another dime. Then, she started getting packages. She said she was spending her side job money on herself. I looked at the cheap makeup and skincare. I recognized them from those shady live streams: Everything is one cent! Guaranteed satisfaction! I wondered if people actually bought face cream from those places. She claimed she was going to have a makeover before the sports day. No one responded. Our group chat was buzzing. [She's so sick. Why is she messing with her health?] [She probably wants the prize money.] [She probably likes some guy and wants to impress him.] [Whatever. Not our problem. Ignore her.] I stared at the messages, unable to contribute. I should say something mean, right? I typed, "Yeah, who cares..." Just as I was about to hit send, she peeked through my curtain. I turned, holding my phone awkwardly. She glanced at the screen, then handed me a sample packet of cheap foundation. "Can you teach me how to put this on? I'll give you this." I threw the foundation into the trash. I was furious. I was talking trash about her, and she gave me a gift? I slammed my curtain shut. "Get out!" That night, she practiced makeup all night, getting powder everywhere. 4 On Sports Day, my roommates and I went shopping. My roommate was happy, sipping her latte. "It's college! Who cares about sports day?" "Yeah. That Vivian is nuts. She's running the 1500 meters. Some guy probably convinced her to do it." "No one's going to watch her. She's so frail. She'll probably pass out, and no one will help her." A sudden chill went down my spine. I remembered her working all night. She was already weak. I paused, then kept walking. Who cares if she dies? My roommate looked at me. "Cheryl, are you losing it?" I shook my head. "Maybe." Then, an ambulance sped past. I suddenly remembered Vivian's words: "Cheryl, you're the only friend I have." I felt a sharp stab in my chest. I dropped my latte. The brown liquid splashed everywhere, including my new shoes. It looked like the dark, clear eyes Vivian always stared at me with. I impatiently found an excuse. "You guys go on. I need to change." I rushed back to school. I ran to the track. Vivian saw me and smiled, her eyes wide with surprise. "Cheryl, you actually came to watch." Then, the paramedics rushed forward, knocking me over. "Hurry! She has no pulse!" 5 I called Vivian's parents' numbers repeatedly. One of her mom's numbers was disconnected. I found her dad's assistant. "Your boss's daughter is dying! Get him to sign the papers!" The assistant was calm. "Which daughter?" "Vivian!" Silence. Then, the assistant said formally, "Okay, message delivered. Please hold." Duh. I must be crazy. I ran out of the hospital to call her mom. I found a woman in a designer suit running towards the hospital. I stopped her. "Your daughter is dying! You need to go there!" The woman rushed in, only to argue with a man already there. The man kept complaining about the wasted time. "I have a meeting! Why should I wait here?" The woman slapped him. They started fighting. The woman then stormed out, changing her dress as she left. Vivian's mom really did wear two new dresses daily. I walked to the stairwell, smelling smoke. I learned about Vivian's past from the woman. Vivian's parents divorced. Her mom remarried a richer man. Her dad, ashamed, abandoned her. She found her mother, but her mother already had a new family. Vivian was an unwanted child. Her parents refused to pay for her education. No one taught her how to be a woman. I walked back in. Vivian's dad finally noticed me. He looked me over. "Vivian's classmate? If something happens, call her mom." I looked at him, then at his $\$10,000$ suit. I reached out. "Money." "Vivian sent you?" "No. I called the ambulance. It was a thousand bucks. She hasn't paid me back." The man frowned. "Such a bother." He pulled out a thousand dollars, then an extra two hundred. "Tip. Don't call me again. I'm busy." I looked at his expensive suit, utterly confused. Why would they have a child if they didn't want one? They were like characters in a bad soap opera—make babies without thinking, then abandon them. What about the kid?
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