"Papa, my school list." I slid the neatly folded paper across the wooden dining table, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

Papa adjusted his glasses and unfolded the paper with slow precision. He scanned it once, twice. Then, he froze.

"Thirty thousand for hostel maintenance? Since when?" His voice held that dangerous calm that sent shivers down my spine.

"Ehn… they just increased it," I muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Papa’s nostrils flared. "Mmh." He continued reading. "Feeding: one hundred and fifty thousand?" His gaze snapped up. "Lamma, are you feeding an entire dormitory?"

I swallowed. "Papa, food is expensive now. Rice is—"

"Mama Lamma, come and hear what your daughter is saying!" Papa's voice boomed, summoning my mother from the kitchen.

Mama, wiping her hands on her wrapper, walked in. "What is it?"

"Your daughter says she needs one hundred and fifty thousand naira for food."

Mama’s brows shot up. "Lamma, you wan open restaurant?"

I sighed. "It’s for the semester, Mama! Things are costly."

Papa wasn’t done. "Books: seventy thousand?"

I nodded, a little too eagerly. "Yes, Papa. Nursing textbooks are expensive. You know we need—"

"Lab coat: twenty-five thousand?" His tone sharpened. "Is it diamond-studded?"

"It’s quality, Papa," I defended weakly.

"And tuition?" He tapped the figure with his index finger. "This is not the amount I paid last semester."

"Err… adjustment, Papa. The school made some changes—"

Papa slapped the paper on the table and removed his glasses. "Lamma, do I look like Dangote?"

Mama sighed, already knowing where this was going. "Lamma, why do I feel like some of these figures have extra zeroes?"

My younger brother, Kosi, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "Papa, check her math. You know she got C in WAEC."

I shot him a glare. "Mind your business, JAMBITE!"

He smirked. "At least my JAMB score was legit."

Papa rubbed his temples. "Lamma, if I hear that this school list is padded, eh, you will refund me with interest."

I shrunk in my seat. "Papa, everything is necessary, I swear."

Mama scoffed. "Necessary kwa? When I was in school, I survived on garri and groundnut. Even my lecturer used to borrow my biro!"

Kosi burst into laughter.

Papa exhaled. "You will collect half of this amount. If you like, eat Indomie morning till night."

"But Papa—"

"No ‘but’! In fact, where’s my red pen? Let me remove some of these fraudulent zeroes."

As I watched him slash through my precious list, I let out a deep sigh.

They didn’t understand. They thought I was being excessive. They thought I was trying to extort them. But they didn’t know what it meant to wake up and count your last cup of garri, or to attend lectures on an empty stomach while lecturers ranted about how students weren’t serious.

Another semester of struggle awaited me.

And I wasn’t even on campus yet.