Page 3 of Sinful Secrets

I step around the tall reception desk to the corner office. I take a seat in the chair in front of her desk as she shuts the door.

Feeling anxious, I ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She types something on her computer.

“Did I somehow use up my entire meal plan?”

What could be wrong? And why did no one tell me there was a problem?

The woman sighs and turns her computer screen around so I can see my file. “There is a mistake with your scholarship.”

I scan the screen for anything to clue me in, but I don’t see anything. “What mistake? It’s the same scholarship that it has been for the past three years.”

The woman points to the side of the screen. “They gave it to someone else. A different student.”

How is that possible?

“But I was promised four paid years with this scholarship.”

My heart races and my mind wanders as I think about all the potential outcomes. None of them are good for me. None of them involve me graduating this year and starting the fashion empire of my dreams.

“I don’t make the rules. I don’t even have a say in the scholarship. An alumnus gives the scholarship every year, and he decides who gets the scholarship.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about my last year here?”

“That is for you to decide, but we need the money in a week.”

“How much is a year of tuition with room and board and a meal plan?”

“Keeping your meal plan and your dorm assignment the same, it will be just over fifty-eight thousand.”

My mouth falls open as I chuckle.

Did I hear her right? Fifty-eight thousand dollars? I can’t afford that, let alone have that much money in a week.

My chuckle grows into a full-blown laugh.

The woman stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

Maybe I have.

“What other options do I have? I have nowhere to go and no one to ask for a loan, especially of this magnitude, and I can’t come up with that much money at once, let alone in a week’s time.”

The woman types on her computer, pulling up another screen.

“We can give you thirty days to pay for the first quarter.”

“And how much is that?” My brain refuses to even try to figure that out. It’s still stuck on the scholarship being taken away.

The woman clicks the button on her mouse and highlights $14,503.50.

“Thirty days to come up with fourteen thousand dollars? Do they think I have a money tree growing somewhere or a sack of cash hidden in my closet?”

The woman’s expression morphs into a concerned motherly one. Not that I know what that looks like. My mom has never looked at me the way this woman is looking at me right now.

I have no other choice but to look for an after class job. But even a great paying job won’t be enough to cover this quarter’s fees.

The walk back to my car is on autopilot. I don’t look at anyone. I don’t speak. I just head straight there and plop down in the driver’s seat.

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