Nina Harlow doesn’t seem very good at math. When we split a buy-one-get-one-free milk tea, she said the “free” one was hers, and I had to pay for mine. When she got sudden food poisoning in the middle of the night, I took her to Crestview Medical Center, but she insisted, “I didn’t want to come here. I just needed some basic stomach relief pills for three dollars. You’re the one who insisted on the hospital, so you can cover the rideshare. I’ll pitch in a dollar fifty for the meds.” Since her family’s in bad shape, we all tried to be understanding. Then, she started dating a guy as obsessed with splitting every bill as she was. One day she asked him how many pieces she could eat from a box of Swiss Rolls. His reply? “Baby, you can have as many as you’re willing to pay for.” I advised her to look carefully at who she was dating, but she accused me of jealousy and shoved me down the dorm stairs to my death. The other two roommates, who each got a grad school recommendation, kept quiet. Now that I’m back for another round, I’ll make sure they stay roped in, so they can see how hard it is to split costs without me acting as their “walking wallet.” Content
When I saw the online menu for Ivy’s Brew House, it hit me: I really had been reborn. Last time, Nina jumped at the buy-one-get-one-free deal and asked to split milk tea with me. She looked so eager I agreed. But when she came back with the drinks, she said, “Mine was free, so yours is $5.” I couldn’t believe my ears, but she doubled down. “Oh, right—you also owe me two bucks for grabbing it for you.” I wanted to say something, but Maya and Katie both shot me a look that said, “She’s broke; just pay her.” So, I forked over the money. That night, though, she ended up vomiting and cramping. I took her to Crestview, only for her to turn it back on me, saying I was overreacting. She handed back just a dollar fifty out of the twenty I’d covered, saying, “I only needed cheap stomach pills; I wouldn’t have gotten sick if you hadn’t ordered the tea. Here’s a dollar fifty, so I’m not taking advantage.” That was a slap in the face, but I let it slide—until she handed me a medical evaluation for depression and demanded, “Your attitudes made me depressed. My treatment and prescriptions should be covered by you all.” I’d never met someone this twisted. I lost it, and we ended up fighting. She yanked my hair, dragged me, and finally shoved me down the stairs. My roommates didn’t call 911; they just coordinated their stories to say I fell. After a few days of playing the system, they each scored a graduate scholarship. One said, “Nina’s in a rough spot, so chipping in a bit more is the right thing. Sloane was just being petty; no wonder she got what was coming to her.” But every time Nina needed money, they’d bury their heads in the sand and let me deal with it. This time, I’m done being their ATM. Let’s see how righteous they sound when they’re forced to shell out without me around.
I forced down my anger and smiled at Nina. “Oh, I already ordered from Ivy’s. Such a shame, though—maybe try asking Maya or Katie?” Everyone was still friendly early in the semester, so it was easy for her to ask them to split an order. Soon enough, Nina and Maya placed one together. When the food arrived, Nina brought in both bags and declared, “Oh, that was exhausting. Five bucks each for the delivery, please!” She pulled out her payment code and held it right up to me. I crossed my arms and just stared. Maya’s face turned sour too. Nina was testing me, trying to figure out my limits. The going rate on campus for getting deliveries or packages was about two dollars. Nina took my order without telling me and now expected me to cover a hiked-up fee. I took a deep breath. “Nina, I didn’t ask you to pick it up, nor did you tell me you were going to. And anyway, the rate’s only two dollars per delivery—five’s too much.” She shot up, face dark, and sneered, “Oh, so now I’m wrong for bringing your stuff up? Don’t act like you don’t know I’m on financial aid. Your family’s got money; a little ‘friend discount’ won’t hurt you, right?” “Friend discount,” huh? That was a new one. I didn’t want a fight this soon, but I wasn’t backing down. I transferred two dollars and not a penny more. “We’re just roommates, not friends. I’ll stick to the going rate. And if you take my order again without asking, you won’t get anything next time.”
The moment the money hit her phone, Nina played the wounded act, looking all teary-eyed. Maya and Katie rushed to her like bloodhounds on the scent, comforting her and throwing digs my way. “She’s struggling, and you’re acting all stingy. Got money but still so uptight!” “No worries, Nina. Here’s ten bucks for doing double duty.” Remembering last time, I knew Nina’s real agenda. She’d squeeze every cent out of us if she could. We’d see if they could keep up the sympathy act later. Their unity didn’t last the night. By midnight, Nina and Maya were both throwing up, with Katie frozen in shock. Once again, history repeated itself, but this time I wasn’t her “blood donor.” Let them split costs on their own. Lying in bed, I heard the chaos outside. But Nina wasn’t letting me off easy. She pulled my curtain open and said, “Sloane, can you take us to the hospital? We ate something bad.” I frowned. “And that’s my concern why? Pulling back someone’s bed curtain is plain rude.” She instantly turned on the waterworks. “We’re roommates! How can you be so heartless? Aren’t you supposed to lend a hand when things go south?” Maybe, before. But now I knew this was just the beginning. I’d let my “kind-hearted” roommates handle it.
Under my firm stance, the three of them went to Crestview Medical Center on their own. Katie gave me a strange look as they left, but I just stared back until she glanced away. The next morning, instead of them, I got a very annoyed Mr. Fletcher. “Sloane, your roommates were sick, and you just left them to it? You’re new to college, and your values aren’t fully formed yet, but you need to learn compassion.” The jabs took me by surprise. Last time, Nina had managed to push me down the stairs with their help—and Mr. Fletcher’s, who I later discovered was her relative. He had even manipulated her way into a financial aid spot. I wasn’t about to fall for it again. I faked a guilty look and stammered, “I… didn’t think much of it. I was just really tired and wanted to sleep.” He seemed satisfied with my humility and nodded. “Glad you realize. Let’s go to the hospital so you can apologize to Nina. And remember, with your privilege, you should help struggling friends.” He might as well have held his hand out for cash. I kept a smile on my face, double-checking my recording app was on. At Crestview, I found Nina and Maya getting IV drips, while Katie sat nearby on her phone. Nina rolled her eyes when she saw me. “I thought you said this wasn’t your problem. Why’d you show up?” she sneered, handing me a bill. “Doc says I got food poisoning, probably from your milk tea. You need to pay for some of this.” She pretended to be fair. “Don’t worry—I’ll go halfsies. Normally I’d just take a cheap stomach med, so I’ll cover three bucks. I’m not asking for charity.” I raised a brow. “So, you took my milk tea without asking, got sick, and now I should pay for your treatment?” Nina looked unapologetic. “Yep. It was your drink. You’re responsible.” I looked at the $200 bill, then asked Maya, “You good with three-dollar meds too?” Without even looking up, she replied, “Yep.” Mr. Fletcher, right on cue, said, “Sloane, apologize and pay. It’s just a few bucks, right?” Katie chimed in, “And don’t forget the rideshare fees.” They were really leaning into the whole “don’t take advantage” thing while charging me for every penny. Even vampires has their own limits.
I grinned and called over a passing nurse. “Could you remove their IVs, please?” Nina screamed, “Sloane, what the hell? How dare you?” I crumpled the bill and shoved it in her face. “I dare because I’m paying your medical bills.” Maya rushed to help Nina, but I shoved her back into her chair. I turned to the nurse. “Thank you. Please, pull out their IVs.” I still had a polite smile, but the nurse seemed unnerved, quickly pulling their IVs and scurrying off. Mr. Fletcher, a big guy, took a few steps back. Katie was practically shaking. Mr. Fletcher scolded, “Sloane, it’s just a payment. Was all this necessary? Can’t you see the bigger picture?” I pushed him toward the payment window. “Oh, sure! Since you care so much, you can pay for them.” “Oh, and don’t forget their rideshare. After all, I’m just a broke college kid here; couldn’t afford food if I tried.” Cornered by his own words, his face turned red as he grudgingly paid. I watched him fuming. “Happy now? Apologize to your roommates.” Still smiling, I pulled two bottles of nausea pills from my pocket and handed one to Nina. “Now, here’s the real math: these pills are sixteen bucks, so you each owe me eight.” “Eight minus your three-dollar meds, so each of you can Venmo me five. Add the rideshare and the milk tea you swiped…” I took out my phone. “Looks like you owe me twenty bucks.” Nina looked stunned, too flustered to speak. I held out the payment code, smiling at her angry face. “Well? Let’s see if my ‘good roommates’ mind paying their dues.”
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