Page 31 of Feral Touch
“Ivy, can I see you in my office?”
I bit my lip and nodded, trying to fight back tears, staring at my shoes the whole way. Was that it? Did he know I didn't have the money? Was he preparing me to leave school?
When he reached his office I took a seat across from him, clutching my bag tightly in my lap.
“No need to look so worried. I haven't brought you in to discuss your grades.”
I nodded, still staring at my lap. I knew I’d been slipping. Thoughts of Ren had been distracting me.
“An interesting development has come up.”
I lifted my head, confused.
“An anonymous donor has made a very generous donation to the school. They've funded a scholarship, the requirements of which are very specific.”
A tiny spark of understanding prickled at the back of my mind.
“This scholarship is to be awarded based on financial need to a female cellist in her junior or senior year. She must also be enrolled in either composition or performance. A double major in both is preferable.”
I inhaled a sharp breath.
“As I'm sure you know, there are very few students who meet all those requirements. Since it is based on financial need, you have been chosen as the recipient this year.” My advisor gave me a smile and placed his clasped hands on the desk. “Congratulations.”
I choked out a bewildered thank you.
“I'll leave this with you.” He pushed a stack of papers across the desk. I picked them up with numb fingers and shoved them in my bag. “They outline the scholarship details, what you need to do to accept it, how to apply it to your tuition, and so on.”
I nodded silently.
“I won't keep you. I know you just finished your last class.”
I thanked him again and wandered out of his office in a daze.
A last minute scholarship from an anonymous donor that I just happened to meet all the requirements for?
I pulled out my phone. It rang a few times and I wondered if I'd have to leave a voicemail until a familiar voice answered.
“Hello?”
“What did you do?”
“Ivy!” Ren sounded pleased. “I'm glad to hear from you. How are you doing?”
“What did you do?” I repeated.
“I don't know what you mean.” His voice was breezy, but with an undertone of delight.
“I can't let you do this.”
“Do what?"”
I was starting to get angry. “Stop playing dumb! I know it the anonymous scholarship came from you.”
“Ah. Yes. That. Consider it my way of supporting the arts. Besides, I funded it for five years. You're not the only one who's going to benefit from it.”
“I'm not taking your money.”
“Technically, the money is coming from an anonymous donor.”
