Page 1 of Scarred King

Prologue

Thirty thousand dollars.

Most people in the world could probably make that kind of money by working hard.

For some people, the lucky ones, it’s not that much money. It’s what they might spend on an exotic vacation or another unnecessary renovation of a room in their house.

Others will never make that kind of money: the unemployed, junkies, or just plain people with no vision or imagination.

I don’t fit into any of those categories. I should fit into the first, but as a bachelor’s degree student of physics at the University of Boston, who spends all her time studying, I don’t have a job. I really don’t fit into the second category and I probably never will. I certainly don’t fit into the third category. I might be unemployed, but that’s only temporary, it’s been by choice up until now. I don’t use drugs, and I definitely have vision and imagination. There are hundreds of formulas in my head that send me spinning into a world of energy, atoms, black holes, and so many other exciting topics.

I desperately and urgently need 30,000 dollars to make my dream come true and graduate with honors. Some might say it's a very realistic dream to fulfill, but right now I have no idea how to make it come true. I know one thing: I’ll get the money, and in time. The only question that’s left is – how?

1

The phone won’t stop ringing. I try to ignore it and concentrate on the complicated equation I need to solve, but the annoying ringing sound persists like a mosquito buzzing around my head. Who the hell is so eager to talk to me? Why can’t they wait until I finish solving my questions? Finally I give in and fish my cell phone out of my backpack.

“Mom, what’s so urgent?” I ask, without even saying hello. “I have to finish up some work before my class starts. I’ll call you back.”

“Elena, it is urgent!” she screams in French, and I take my finger off the red end button on the phone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask nervously. My mother, an elegant and refined woman, never raises her voice. She hasn’t spoken to me in her native tongue since I firmly asked her not to, thirteen years ago.

“We have nothing left. He lost everything. We lost everything,” she whimpers over the phone, and I get up from my desk and walk towards the small bedroom window.

“What do you mean, we’ve lost everything?” I ask, bewildered. “Who has? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Elena, don’t you talk to me like that,” she orders. I sit down on the edge of the bed and murmur a soft apology to soothe her. “Your father gambled everything and lost. We have nothing left. We lost the house, our savings, and our car.” I close my eyes tightly, and start reciting the last equation I was trying to solve, escaping into a parallel world where only equations and solutions exist. “Elena, are you listening to me?” she asks, this time in English, but I refuse to part with the formula that's racing inside my head. “Elena,” her voice softens, “I know how important your studies are to you but the first payment we made for your tuition bounced. The university just called and asked me to take care of it. Unfortunately, I have no way to make the payment now or any time soon.”

“Have you told them?” I ask anxiously.

“No,” her voice remains calm and it’s starting to drive me crazy. “I told them that I would look into it. I wanted to talk to you before they let you know that you won’t be able to continue your studies there.”

“Good.” I sigh in relief.

“Good? So when will you come home?” she asks.

I peek at my formula-filled papers. “When I finish the two years I have left.” I stand up decisively and walk back to my desk.

“Elena, stop talking nonsense,” she sounds upset again. “You need thirty thousand dollars to finish your degree. Where would you get that kind of money when you are studying ten hours a day?”

“What about the rent on my apartment?” I ignore her question and fire back one of my own.

“We paid your rent until the end of the year. But we could ask for the money back if you find someone to replace you – that would help…”

“That won’t happen,” I cut her off. “I’m staying here and finishing up the two years I have left. I’ll get the money.”

“How exactly will you get…”

“Maman,” I say to her in French and she instantly becomes quiet, “I said I'll get the money and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I won't let anyone or anything stop me. This is my dream, even if you could never understand it. Thank you for supporting me financially up until now. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back and finish the paper I have to hand in.” I end the call and sit down on my chair.

Slowly and carefully I sharpen my pencil and place it on the squared paper pad. My mind abandons the annoying conversation and focuses on the letters and numbers set out in front of me in a straight line. About half an hour later, my fingers trail over my cursive handwriting. All the equations are solved. I have an hour to get to my first class, and better yet figure out how to make $30,000 so that I make sure it won’t be my last class.

2

I’m standing in front of the notice board on campus, which is filled with leaflets with job offers, I'm grouchy. Taking other people’s dogs for walks is out of the question, especially considering the fact that I’ve never agreed to walk the annoying little poodle my mom had. Tutoring freshmen in math and physics would be ideal, if I weren’t so boldly impatient with people's stupidity who have a hard time understanding those beautiful equations. Babysitting two kids in the afternoons, well that would drive me insane for sure.

“Damn it…” I mutter angrily and move aside to let a tall black girl pin a new ad on the board. “A waitress in a bar…” I mumble and turn around to look at her. She’s wearing a tight crop top, some tiny denim shorts that show off her never-ending legs, and she has bright red lipstick on her full lips.

---