{Lily}
[Ten years ago]
"What do you mean you won't get us a replacement? Are you asking to be sued!?" My father yells over the phone.
"I'm sorry sweetie," Mom's voice cracks as she holds up my torn uniform. "We can't afford a new one right now."
I stare at the patches she's trying to sew, the cheap thread standing out against the once-prestigious fabric. The same uniform I have to wear tomorrow, the one Mizuki from class 2-B called "second-hand trash" yesterday before she tried to pull it off me.
"It's fine," I lie, watching Mom's fingers shake as she tries to make the stitches smaller. "Nobody will notice."
[They always notice.]
Later that night, I hear Mom crying in the kitchen, arguing with Dad about bills again. About how we might have to move to an even smaller house. About how they can barely afford my school fees.