Chapter 1

My scholarship-kid roommate sucked at basic math.

Whenever there was a BOGO coffee deal, she’d claim the free cup was hers, and that I had to split the cost of my own drink with her.

When she got food poisoning in the middle of the night, I rushed her to Urgent Care. But afterward, she crossed her arms and said:

"I didn't even want to go to the clinic. I just wanted a two-dollar pill from CVS.

You’re the one who forced me to go. I'm not paying for the Uber, and I'm only giving you one dollar for the meds."

Knowing she came from a poor background, our dorm cut her some slack.

Until she got a boyfriend who was just as obsessed with splitting bills down to the cent.

She once asked him how many slices of a Swiss roll she could eat from an eight-pack. Her boyfriend replied:

"Babe, you can eat however many you want—as long as you Venmo me for every single bite."

I warned her to run, but she accused me of being jealous of her ‘perfect relationship’ and pushed me down the stairs to my death.

My other two roommates secured fast-track grad school spots by keeping their mouths shut and calling it an "accident."

Now that I’ve been reborn, I’m going to make sure they stick together.

Let's see who Brenda leeches off of when I’m no longer her personal piggy bank.

The second I saw the coffee order screen in front of me, I realized I had actually traveled back in time.

In my previous life, my roommate Brenda wanted to split a BOGO coffee promotion with me.

Seeing how eager she looked, I agreed.

Yet, after bringing the drinks back, she tossed one to me and said, "The free one was mine. Yours was $6.50."

Before I could even process what she just said, Brenda added, "Oh, and you owe me a $3 delivery fee for picking it up."

Before I could object, my other two roommates shot me warnings with their eyes. Knowing Brenda was struggling financially, I swallowed my pride and paid up.

That very night, Brenda started throwing up and had violent diarrhea. I rushed her to the hospital, paid for the Uber and the medical bills, only for her to turn around and call me a busybody. She only Venmo’d me a pathetic $1.50.

Her excuse? "I only needed a three-dollar generic pill. If you hadn’t made me drink that coffee, I wouldn't have gotten sick. Giving you a dollar fifty is me being generous."

After taking that hit, I completely cut her off. But soon, she slapped a self-diagnosed depression sheet onto my desk.

"Your cold attitude gave me depression. You should cover my therapy and prescription costs."

I had never met anyone so unhinged. Fueled by the instigations of our other two roommates, we ended up in a massive brawl.

Brenda grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved me straight down the dormitory stairwell.

My roommates didn't even bother calling 911 first. Instead, they coordinated their stories, telling everyone I tripped and fell on my own.

In the end, all three of them made a scene with the dean and walked away with coveted grad school recommendations.

One of them even said, "Brenda comes from a poor family; it's natural she needed the money. Chloe was just petty. She deserved it."

Yet, whenever Brenda demanded cash back in the dorm, those two always buried their heads in the sand like ostriches.

In this life, without me playing their financial shield, I want to see if they can still talk that big game when they’re forced to foot her bills.

Swallowing the fury in my chest, I flashed Brenda a sweet smile:

"Oh, what a shame! I just placed an order for myself. Why don’t you ask Taylor and Ashley?"

Since it was the start of the semester, nobody wanted to turn down a friendly roommate invite.

Soon enough, Brenda and Taylor ordered together.

Brenda deliberately sauntered past my desk, sneering in a passive-aggressive voice:

"Oh Chloe, you look so skinny, but you drink two full cups all by yourself?

Must be nice having rich parents. Unlike me, who actually has to split orders to survive."

Taylor and Ashley instantly jumped on the bandwagon, nodding along.

Ashley scoffed, "Money burning a hole in your pocket, huh?"

I merely smiled and said nothing.

Wasting words on these parasites was just a waste of breath.

The delivery arrived quickly. Before I could even step outside, Brenda kicked the dorm door open, holding two bags.

She announced loudly, "I’m exhausted! Pickup fee is $3 per person."

With that, she shoved her Venmo QR code right into my face.

I crossed my arms and stared back at her coldly.

Taylor’s face twisted in disgust as well.

I knew Brenda was testing my boundaries.

The standard campus rate for grabbing someone’s package was barely a dollar.

Brenda had grabbed my order without asking, and now she was demanding triple the market rate.

I took a deep breath, feeling my blood pressure spike.

"Brenda, I never asked you to pick up my drink, and you didn't ask before taking it."

I kept my voice calm. "Besides, campus runners charge a dollar. Asking for three bucks is pure extortion."

Brenda’s face darkened immediately, stepping up aggressively.

"I did you a favor, and you’re complaining? You know I'm on financial aid! Your family is loaded, what's wrong with paying a little extra friendship tax?"

A 'friendship tax'? That was rich.

I didn’t want to blow everything up just yet, but I wasn't going to be a pushover either. I sent her exactly one dollar—not a single cent more.

"We’re roommates, Brenda, not besties. You get market price. And if you touch my deliveries without permission again, don't expect me to be this nice."