Page 1 of Bought and Enjoyed

CHAPTER 1

Alice

Whoever had pinned the flyer on the department bulletin board had put it off in the corner, as if to ensure that whoever noticed it would have to be desperate to find something—anything—that might keep their dreams afloat.

SELECTA Europe Scholarships

for graduate study in the humanities abroad

mail [email protected] for details

I frowned as I read it.So… Selecta giveth and Selecta taketh away?

My frown became a grimace as I thought about it.Blessed be the Name of Selecta?

In this case, thetaketh awaypart had happened first: Selecta ending humanities graduate programs at all their subsidizeduniversities, when I had one semester left of my degree in French history. I had had every expectation of being one of the lucky few who had a shot at a spot in a PhD program and, afterward, an academic job. Not glamorous, but steady—and, more important, the career I had dreamed of.

I didn’t have much hope, because after the crushing disappointment of the news four months ago, a scholarship to study in Europe seemed much too good to be true. I mailed the address anyway, though, because why the fuck not.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting another message from my roommate about whose turn it was to buy toilet paper. Instead, I saw an email from [email protected].

My heart raced as I opened it, hardly daring to hope. The message was terse:

Dear Ms. Morgan,

Thank you for your interest in the SELECTA Europe Scholarships program. To proceed with your application, we require the following:

1. Full access to all your social media accounts

2. Agreement to undergo a comprehensive medical examination if your candidacy advances

Please reply to this email with your consent to both conditions within twenty-four hours to continue the application process.

Regards,

SELECTA Europe Scholarships Team

I stared at my phone, baffled. Why would they need my social media? And a medical exam? For a scholarship?

My thumb hovered over the reply button as I chewed my lip. This seemed invasive, even for Selecta. But what choice did I have? My dreams of becoming a French history professor were slipping away with each passing day.

I thought of the dusty archives in Paris I longed to explore, the musty smell of centuries-old documents, the thrill of uncovering some long-forgotten detail about life in medieval France. I imagined myself lecturing in a grand hall, students hanging on my every word as I brought the past to vivid life.

With a deep breath, I hit reply. What could it hurt? I hadn’t done much partying in college—definitely nothing embarrassing. My socials held only a few musings about history and literature that already made me cringe when they popped up in ‘One Year Ago’ notifications, but I didn’t think they could cost me a scholarship.

And a medical exam? Sure—maybe Selecta just wanted to be sure I wouldn’t drop dead in the middle of my scholarship. I might even have thought it a rare sign of actual compassion, if I hadn’t suspected it had more to do with how much it would cost them to ship my body home.

I provided my social network logins and consented to the medical exam. This time the reply from Selecta came in even less time.

Dear Ms. Morgan,

Thank you for your continued interest. Please report to West Hall Room 205 tomorrow at one p.m. sharp for a written qualifying examination.

Regards,

SELECTA Europe Scholarships Team

The next day, I arrived at West Hall fifteen minutes early, my nerves jangling. The hallway was eerily quiet as I made my way to Room 205. I had expected to see other anxious students milling about, but the corridor was deserted.

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