Chapter 2: Hoodie Economics

Ever since I left for college, Grandma had gotten obsessed with the internet.

She started picking up TikTok dances, tried her hand at Instagram Reels, and even FaceTimed me to show off her attempts at latte art. She'd always been sharp and curious, but now she had the digital confidence of a Gen Z. To keep her reassured at home, I often shared my daily life with her online.

Today, I ate an insanely delicious pulled pork sandwich and sent Grandma a photo.

The sandwich was from that food truck everyone raved about on campus, loaded with smoky meat and tangy slaw. The truck always parked by the quad, blasting indie rock and drawing a line of students in sweats and flip-flops. “This pulled pork sandwich smells amazing!” I texted, adding a drool-face emoji.

She replied almost instantly: “Caleb Evans.”

The sudden formality threw me off. I didn’t miss a beat and teased her: “I only skipped messaging you for two days, and you’re already being so cold, calling me by my full name.”

I could practically hear her old scolding tone—one she’d use if I snuck cookies before dinner. “Call me good kid.”

I grinned at the screen. “No, call me sweetheart.”

She went silent for three minutes. “Are you sure you want this?”

“With our relationship, and you still need to ask?”

Another three-minute pause. “Alright... sweetheart...”

I replied with a puppy sticker—the same one Grandma always sends, because she thinks it looks like me.

It’s the chubby golden retriever with the floppy ears. She always says it’s adorable, just like when I was little and wore my hair too long.

“That’s more like it.”

My roommate called from below my bunk, “Caleb, get down here and check out my new hoodie!”

I lifted my bed curtain and saw my roommate Derek standing in front of the mirror, modeling a black lettered hoodie.

“It’s all the cafeteria’s fault—the food’s too good. This used to fit me perfectly in size L.”

He tugged at the fabric around his belly, making a face. “If this hoodie gets any tighter, I’m gonna have to start shopping at Dad stores.”

“Caleb, why don’t you try it on? If it fits, I won’t return it.”

I rolled off the bed. “Coming, Derek.”

“If it fits me, will you give it to me?”

Derek shot me a look. “Dream on, you gotta pay.”

We both laughed. Our banter was as easy as breathing these days.

I slipped on the hoodie. It fit perfectly.

The color, the size—it was like it was made for me. I felt almost cool for a second, like one of those dudes in a Nike ad.

I raised my eyebrows at Derek.

He just held up two fingers. “Two hundred bucks.”

I checked my Venmo balance—still had eight hundred left, but it was only halfway through the month.

So, I took a mirror selfie in the hoodie and shorts and sent it to Grandma.

After all, Grandma gets a monthly pension of over ten thousand dollars, and she can’t spend it all herself. I help her lighten the load a little.

I sent Grandma a voice message: “Do you think my new hoodie looks good?”

Grandma replied instantly: “Looks great, really suits you.”

I sent another voice message, acting pitiful: “But I’m short on living expenses this month... Can I get a $200 advance?”