My mother told me one day when signing a permission card that now that I’m 12, I can buy my own school lunch.

“We’re not made of money, and you should understand the importance of hard work.”

That’s when Mother stopped purchasing me basic school materials. When I requested fresh notebooks and pencils, she replied,

“Figure it out. Other kids your age have jobs, so you should consider getting one, too.”

I felt perplexed and embarrassed asking instructors for more materials as my father watched his costly sports package, which cost more per month than the whole school supply list.

They had recently purchased a new 60-inch television but were unable to buy a $10 box of pencils.

I started babysitting on weekends and walking dogs after school to cover the cost of basic essentials like clothing and food. The embarrassment of wearing too short pants and hole-filled shoes seared in my chest.

But I attempted to seem normal.

“Look at our little entrepreneur,” Dad would say when I arrived home fatigued from work. “Maybe you’ll realize why we can’t just offer you whatever you want.”

I’d grin and nod while calculating how to make $25 last for a week of meals.

By 13, they had stopped buying me meals and were ordering takeout twice a week for themselves. I’d arrive home hungry to find them devouring restaurant food and empty cabinets.

Mom would tell me, “You could get a job at the grocery store and purchase your own food like an adult,” while eating her Chinese takeout.

The fragrance of their food made my stomach hurt, but I learned to stay in my room until they were finished so I didn’t have to watch them eat stuff I couldn’t afford.

I became better at money management than my parents ever were because I had to make every dollar count.

While they impulsively purchased electronics and restaurant meals, I investigated each purchase and sought the greatest value.

I developed a little business doing yard work and pet sitting that made great money.

The irony was that as a teenager, I demonstrated more financial discipline than they did as adults.

They still criticized me for being poor since I wore thrift shop clothing.

Mom remarked, “It’s humiliating to have a daughter who dresses like she’s homeless,” when I wore a secondhand outfit to a family gathering. “People are going to think we don’t take care of you.”

I wanted to shout since they didn’t take care of me and hadn’t purchased me clothing in 2 years.

Dad would moan to his buddies about how costly children were, while I sat there knowing I had been financially independent since middle school.

I extended my business and began generating real money by providing lawn care and pet services to most of the neighborhood.

My parents acted as if my achievement was due to their tough love style.

Dad would warn people, “Watch what happens when you stop enabling kids and make them work for what they want. She understands the worth of a dollar, unlike these spoiled brats whose parents give them everything.”

He added this while drinking $40 bottles of wine and playing golf at the country club.

But then Dad lost his job, and their attitude toward money shifted dramatically.

“We’re having financial difficulties,” Mom stated.

And she asked if I might lend them money for groceries. “Just until your father discovers something new.”

I watched them panic about missing their mortgage payment while I had spent years budgeting down to the last penny. They had no savings despite earning a respectable living because they had spent every dollar on wants rather than requirements.

Dad replied, “You’ve got all that money sitting in your account.”

When I refused to give them cash during difficult times, he said, “Family members support one another.”

I reminded him that when I was 12, I was supposed to help my family and eat peanut butter for dinner every night.

“That was different because we were teaching you responsibility,” Mom remarked, as if that made sense. “This is an actual emergency.”

They continued asking for money every few days and becoming angry when I declined.

Dad stated, “You’re being selfish and ungrateful after everything we’ve done for you.”

During one of his pleading bouts, he said, “We could have booted you out years ago, but we allowed you to stay here for free.”

I explained that allowing your minor child to live in your home was the legal minimal obligation for parents.

“Don’t be clever with us when we ask for aid!” Mom yelled back.

I was calculating my funds and preparing to leave for college when both of my parents approached me in the kitchen with serious looks.

“We’ve been discussing, and we believe it’s time for you to begin contributing to household expenditures,” Mom added, with Dad nodding behind her. “You’re 14 now, and you earn a nice living, so it’s only right that you pay rent.”

Dad approached with a contract in his hands. “You may either pay $600 per month with utilities or find another place to live.”

I glanced at the document Dad was holding and my thoughts went utterly blank for a moment.

The paper had official-looking headers and signature lines. $600 a month plus utilities meant that I’d be spending nearly all of my earnings, leaving nothing for food or emergencies.

I quickly calculated the numbers in my head. In a good month, I earned around $700 from my lawn care company and pet sitting.

This house’s utilities bill increased by at least $200 during the summer when they turned on the air conditioning.

That would leave me with around $100 for everything else, including food, clothing, school materials, and mower gas.

My parents were watching me as if they expected me to just sign. Mom crossed her arms, and Dad held out a pen.

I said I needed time to think about it and went to my room before they could protest.

Dad called after me for being theatrical, but I closed and shut my door.

My hands trembled as I brought out my budget notebook and ran the figures, which confirmed what I already knew.

This would demolish all I’d created.

For the past 2 years, I’ve been quite frugal. I’d saved over $1,500 for emergencies and college application expenses.

If I paid them rent, my funds would be depleted in 3 months, leaving me with nothing to cover the essentials they stopped supplying.

I wrote out several situations, but they all finished in the same manner.

There was no version of this that worked without leaving me hungry or losing my business equipment.

My eyes were moist, but I wasn’t sobbing, so the notebook pages were a little blurry.

I was simply upset and afraid, trying to figure out what to do.

That night I lay awake on my phone investigating whether parents may legally charge rent for their underage children.

The answers were difficult and varied by state, but most authorities agreed that parents have a responsibility to give basic assistance until their children reach the age of 17.

Some forums had individuals claiming that when they were adolescents, their parents charged them rent, which was okay. Others believed it was neglect if the parents did not provide food and basics.

According to a legal assistance website, parents are responsible for providing their children with shelter, food, clothes, medical treatment, and education.

Charging rent may be okay if they are still supplying all of the other necessities. However, my parents had not purchased me food in over a year. They had not purchased me clothing since I was 12.

I screenshot everything that appeared relevant and stored it to a folder on my phone.

Around 1:00 a.m., I eventually fell asleep with my phone still in hand.

When my alarm went off, I was fatigued, and my eyes ached from seeing small print for hours.