Page 2 of Bought and Enjoyed

I hesitated before the closed door, taking a deep breath to steady myself. This was it—my one shot at salvaging my academic dreams. I smoothed my blouse, pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and knocked.

“Come in,” called a crisp female voice.

I entered to find a spartan classroom. A lone figure sat behind the teacher’s desk—a severe-looking woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Her piercing gaze raked over me as I approached.

“Alice Morgan?” she asked, consulting a sheet of paper.

I nodded, unsure if I should speak.

“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the empty desks. “You may begin as soon as I distribute the exam.”

I glanced around the room, bewildered. “Excuse me, but… am I the only one taking this test?”

The woman’s lips thinned. “That is correct. Now, please be seated.”

Confusion and unease prickled along my skin as I chose a desk in the middle of the room. Why was I the only candidate? Surely others had seen that flyer?

The proctor placed a single sheet of paper face down on my desk, and then a blue book. Her heels clicked against the linoleum as she returned to her own. “You have two hours. Begin.”

With trembling fingers, I flipped over the exam paper. My eyes widened as I read the two essay prompts, from which the directions said I must choose one:

1. Discuss the impact of the Napoleonic Code on modern French legal systems, with particular attention to property rights and gender equality.

2. Analyze the history and importance of family discipline in France from the medieval period to the Enlightenment, including the use of corporal punishment in noble households.

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I read the second prompt. Family discipline? Corporal punishment? What kind of scholarship exam was this?

I glanced up at the proctor, but her stern face revealed nothing. Swallowing hard, I focused on the first question. The Napoleonic Code I could handle. I’d written papers on it before. This was familiar territory.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my pen and began to write. I lost myself in the flow of words, explaining how Napoleon’s legal reforms had shaped modern French civil law. I delved into the Code’s treatment of marriage, divorce, and inheritance rights. My pen flew across the page as I discussed its lasting influence on gender roles in French society.

But even as I wrote, my mind kept drifting to that second prompt. Why ask about family discipline and corporalpunishment on a history exam? The question seemed designed to make students uncomfortable. Who would ever choose to write on such a mortifying topic?

Before I knew it, the proctor’s voice cut through my concentration. “Time’s up. Please put down your pen.”

I blinked, disoriented. Had two hours really passed already? My hand ached from writing, and I flexed my cramped fingers as the proctor collected my blue book. Her face remained impassive as she glanced at my essay, giving no hint of approval or disappointment.

“You will be notified of the results by email within twenty-four hours,” she said crisply. “You may go.”

I gathered my things in a daze, my mind still churning with half-formed thoughts about Napoleonic property laws. As I stepped out into the hallway, the silence felt ominous. No excited chatter of fellow test-takers comparing answers, no sighs of relief or groans of frustration. Just the echo of my own footsteps as I made my way out of the building.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I tried to distract myself with mundane tasks—laundry, grocery shopping, even tackling the pile of dishes in the sink. But every few minutes, I found myself compulsively checking my phone. No new emails.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. What if I’d misinterpreted the prompt? What if my essay wasn’t detailed enough? What if this was all some elaborate prank, and I’d never hear back at all?

I tried not to obsess over the exam, but found myself compulsively checking my phone every few minutes. The harsh blue glow of the screen illuminated my bedroom at two a.m.,three a.m., four a.m. as I refreshed my inbox again and again. Sleep eluded me, my mind racing with doubts and questions.

When my alarm finally blared at seven, I stumbled out of bed in a fog of exhaustion. As I waited for my coffee to brew, I absentmindedly opened my email once more. My breath caught in my throat. There it was—a message from [email protected].

With trembling fingers, I tapped to open it:

Dear Ms. Morgan,

Congratulations. You have successfully passed the qualifying examination for the SELECTA Europe Scholarships program.

Your medical examination is scheduled for today at one p.m. at the University Health Center. Please arrive promptly. Failure to attend will result in immediate disqualification from the program.

Regards,