Page 10 of Zen's Crash

“What could possibly be worse than not getting to go to college?”

“You’re red hot. Not getting to go to college is the right answer, but it’s not because I want to quit.”

“What is it then?” I can’t imagine what might keep her out of college after managing to get into such a good one. Giving her the side-eye, I ask, “Did you flunk your senior year?”

“No, of course not. I’ve been doing odd jobs online for years and have pretty much saved every penny for my college education.”

“The fuck? Mom and Dad said they have your college fund covered.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, they do—if they withdraw over half out of both of their retirement accounts.” Her eyes tear up, “I don’t want them to do that.”

I turn the situation over in my mind. My parents both have good jobs, and they paid for my first semester of college. I wouldn’t say they were relieved when I dropped out after one semester, but they were quick to point out the benefits of community college and learning through internships. Shit, that makes sense now. They had over-promised on being able to afford college and were robbing their retirement accounts to make good on those promises.

It occurs to me to wonder how she could have saved so much money. Tuition at Stanford was upwards of sixty-five grand a year including books. “How the hell could you afford tuition? What was your plan for college?”

Without batting an eye, she explains, “I got a partial scholarship that pays half of my tuition every semester for as long as I keep my grades up. They offered me a work-study job, but I turned it down because my current online work pays better. I know college classes will be harder than high school classes. I have to make every hour count. I figured that if I needed to pick up extra money I could always scramble around online for extra cash.”

Now she had my attention. My kid sister had better not be selling feet pics or have an OnlyFans account. That was a no-go for me. I get my emotions under control and ask, “What is it exactly that you do online?”

She stares at me for a brief second before replying, “You know, whatever makes money.”

“No, I don’t know. I know what I do to make money online and I’m pretty sure you don’t do IT stuff like me.”

She snorts a laugh, “Heck no, that’s not my specialty. I do a bunch of stuff. I try to focus on what takes the least amount of time for the biggest payout.” Sighing, she continues, “I have monetized social media accounts for Angel.”

“Wait, is that why you put your cat in all those stupid outfits and take a million pictures of her?”

“Yeah, why else would I waste time primping my cat? I mean, she’s a long-haired beauty, adorable, and loves the attention, but for me it’s just a way of spoiling my cat and earning a tidy bit of change each month.”

When I don’t answer, she adds, “I also make website themes, edit pictures, design flyers for local events, and find gigs for small time local entertainers and DJs for a cut of the proceeds. I have an OnlyFans, an online recipe book dedicated to copycat recipes and—”

“Stop,” I demand. Pulling the vehicle off the road, I tell her, “Go back to the OnlyFans.”

She rolls her eyes, “It’s an OnlyFans dedicated to ASMR videos.”

Fearing the worst, I ask, “What the fuck are ASMR videos?”

Her eyes go wide, and her eyebrows shoot up. I know this look. It’s the one she uses when she thinks her older brother has lost his fucking mind.

“Don’t look at me like that Cody! I can’t believe you’ve never heard of ASMR. It stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. Basically it’s something that happens to your body when you hear certain noises, like whispers and stuff. I record sounds and people pay to listen to them.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Her story seems absurd, but I can’t see my kid sister being provocative online either.

She pulls out her phone and shows me her page. “You should subscribe for doubting me.”

“Sure. It’s for a good cause,” I tell her, relieved she’s not doing nefarious things. “I’m still not sure the math is mathing, sis.”

“Trust me, it pays well,” she says.

“Okay, I’m almost sorry I asked because we’re getting off track here. If you’ve saved a bunch of money what’s the problem? Do you need any more? I might be able to help.”

Her face falls, “I lost all my savings. Someone stole the money.”

“How much are we talking about here?” I ask. Then add, “How was it stolen? Did you have it in a bank account or was it crypto?”

“I had a cool hundred grand in crypto, which combined with my partial scholarships and the money I normally earn online,would have been enough to get me through a four-year degree program, and maybe even through a master’s.”

“Tell me you used a cold wallet with a seed phrase?” I say. That’s the most secure way of storing offline with a recovery phrase of random words.

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