Chapter 5: The Blond Boyfriend Trick

“The reason your mom keeps squeezing you and not giving you enough allowance is because she’s sure you won’t rebel. You’re too obedient.

She laid it out like a chess master. To her, my mom’s just playing a game she thinks she can’t lose.

No matter how much she gives, it’s her charity, and she thinks you can’t escape her control or live without her money.

I nodded, realizing she was right. I’d never really pushed back—just begged for more leash.

So, if you break free from her control, she’ll be the one chasing after you instead.”

It sounded crazy, but also kind of brilliant. A reversal, like those rom-coms where the girl finally dumps the guy and suddenly he’s at her door with flowers.

Aubrey laid out her analysis. I only half-understood. “So what should I do?”

I tilted my head, waiting for the catch.

She winked. “Find a blond guy, take a photo, and post it on Instagram with a caption thanking him for his generosity.

Not real generosity—just the kind where a cup of Starbucks makes you fall head over heels, like you can’t live without him.

Let your mom see: if she doesn’t care for her daughter, doesn’t feed or clothe her, then her daughter will be swept away by some blond guy for a cup of coffee.

I guarantee she’ll beg you to break up and immediately send you living expenses!”

Her logic was pure sitcom—but also, I knew enough overprotective moms to know it just might work. The idea made me nervous and giddy all at once.

I was skeptical. Would this really work?

I bit my lip, imagining Mom’s face. Was I really about to pull a move straight out of Mean Girls?

But Aubrey is a woman of action—she dragged me to the anime club, found a skinny upperclassman in a wig and cosplay, and snapped a photo of us together.

I barely had time to object. There he was—Mason, an anime club legend, wearing a fake blond wig and flashing a peace sign. We all squeezed together, Aubrey snapping away like a paparazzo.

She even crafted a caption: “Only a man willing to spend money on me is the best.” Set to visible only to Mom.

She knew her Instagram privacy settings better than anyone I’d met. “Trust me,” she said, “your mom’s gonna lose it.”

After all that, I waited nervously for the fallout.

My heart pounded every time my phone buzzed. Aubrey handed me a Kit Kat, just in case I needed sugar to survive the fallout.

Aubrey patted my hand, telling me to just wait.

She had that mischievous glint in her eye, like a cat about to knock over a vase.

Sure enough, in less than five minutes, Mom’s FaceTime call came through.

Right on schedule, the screen lit up with her contact photo—her at Niagara Falls, all windblown and stern.

With Aubrey’s encouragement, I took a deep breath and answered. “Hello, Mom, what’s up?”

I put on my best neutral voice, trying not to sound scared or smug.

Before I could finish, Mom’s furious voice exploded:

She didn’t even let me say hi. “Rachel, how low can you go? Dating behind our backs—are you that desperate for a man?

And what kind of person is that, dressed so weirdly? Clearly not decent.

Are we starving you or neglecting you at home, that you have to beg a man for food and drinks? You’re making us look bad!

I’ve told your dad: a restless girl like you shouldn’t be allowed to go to college away from home. It would save us the trouble and spare us embarrassment!”

Her words hit like a slap. I felt my face get hot, my throat tight. She didn’t care about me—just about how I looked to other people.

…

It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I was dizzy—thank goodness Aubrey was there to steady me.

She reached over, squeezing my hand, a lifeline in the storm. The anger in my chest burned, but I tried not to cry.

She looked at me with pity, gripping my hand tightly.

Aubrey mouthed, “Hang up.” I nodded, heart pounding.

I summoned my courage and cut in: “Mom, if you don’t give me living expenses, then of course someone else will. Whether he’s blond or gray-haired, good or bad, anyone who helps me when I need it is a good person to me.”

The words tasted bitter and true as I said them. For once, I didn’t back down.

Then, I hung up, cutting off Mom’s tirade.

I stared at the blank screen, feeling both lighter and emptier than I’d expected. No more yelling. Just silence.

Aubrey looked stricken, stammering, “Rach, I’m sorry—this was my dumb idea. I didn’t know your mom would react like that.

Before, whenever I joked about dating, my mom would freak out and immediately send me money, terrified I’d get tricked by some loser. I thought all parents were like that.”

She was practically wringing her hands, guilt written all over her face. I shook my head, mustering a tired smile.

I patted her hand. “Don’t worry, your mom isn’t my mom. My mom only cares about losing control and saving face. As for why I found a blond guy, she doesn’t care at all.

It’s just me being wrong, low, and hopeless.”

I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, great. Mom’s probably so mad, even the $65 a month is gone. From now on, I’ll really have to rely on you for support.

Your Highness, please help this humble servant find more part-time jobs!”

I bowed dramatically, making Aubrey crack up. Sometimes, humor is the only thing you have left.

Aubrey burst out laughing, and the tension between us finally eased.

She threw a pillow at me, and for a moment, the world felt less heavy. We were just two broke college girls in Chicago, making do.

Just then, my cousin called, her voice urgent:

“Rachel, check the family group chat—what is your mom up to now?”

My phone buzzed again. I braced myself, a knot forming in my stomach. I had no idea what Mom was planning next—but I knew one thing: survival was about to get a whole lot messier.