Mrs. Lawrence next door mooched off my family's internet for three years without paying a dime. Out of neighborly goodwill, I'd always looked the other way.
Then yesterday she texted me out of nowhere: "What garbage broadband does a broke loser like you even have? If you screw up my son's Harvard admission, can you even afford to pay us back?!"
Before I could reply, she was already at my door, kicking the security gate with a bang bang bang, hands planted on her hips.
"What trash internet did you install?! Upgrade it to gigabit, NOW. If you ruin my son's future, you couldn't pay it back even if you sold yourself!"
I watched the door rattle under her kicks and said nothing.
Went back inside. Changed the Wi-Fi name to "Connect and your whole family gets sterilized." Unplugged the router.
Then I glanced at the rats' nest of illegally spliced wires outside her window, smirked, and called the power company to report her for stealing electricity.
If she wanted to make my life hell, her whole family could ring in the New Year together at the detention center.
——
"Who reported me?!"
"Which son of a bitch reported me for stealing electricity?!" Rachel's shriek echoed through the hallway.
Through the peephole, I watched the power company crew ripping out that tangle of wires outside her window. Two uniformed workers kept their faces blank.
"Ma'am, please cooperate."
"Unauthorized wiring like this isn't just theft of public utilities—it's a serious safety hazard."
Rachel dropped to the floor and started wailing.
"I didn't do anything! I'm being framed!" "I'm a widow raising my son alone—do you know how hard that is?!" "Electricity's so expensive, I just wanted to save a little!" "You're trying to drive us to our deaths!"
Even while sobbing, she shot a venomous glare at my door.
The workers had clearly seen this act before. They didn't flinch.
"You'll be fined according to regulations, and your power will be temporarily cut."
"Service will only be restored after you pay the back charges, the fine, and submit a safety compliance report."
Fine. Power cut.
Those two words hit Rachel like a bomb.
She scrambled off the floor and hurled herself at my door.
"Get out here, you piece of shit!" "I know it was you! You heartless bastard!" "My Josh is about to take his college entrance exams—you cut my power, cut my internet—you're trying to destroy his whole future!" "What's your problem?! You're just jealous my son's going to Harvard!"
She pounded on the security door, bang bang bang.
I stayed silent. Just watched her perform.
That's when her precious son, Joshua James, strolled out.
Designer clothes head to toe. Black-rimmed glasses. Looking every bit the polished scholar.
But the moment his eyes flicked toward my door, contempt flickered across his face. The corner of his mouth curled down.
When he spoke, the arrogance in his bones showed through.
"Mom, why even bother with bottom-feeders like him?"
He glanced at my door with open disdain.
"People who can't make it themselves can't stand seeing anyone else succeed."
"Once I get into Harvard, we're out of this dump. Never have to breathe the same air as this trash again."
Rachel latched onto his words like a lifeline: "Exactly! My son's absolutely right!"
Her voice cranked up another notch.
"You hear that? Trash! My son is destined for greatness, and you're nothing but dirt under his feet!" "Mess with him now—when he makes it big, you'll regret it!"
Neighbors started gathering in the hallway, whispering and pointing our way.
