Winter is not my season. It’s always fucking cold. It’s kind of funny how much the hockey guys seem to relish it. You can always spot them because they never wear jackets.Maybea puffer jacket if it’s below zero, but that’s rare.
I saw them all in a snowball fight on campus a few weeks ago, and not a single one was in anything thicker than a sweatshirt.
Crazy.
The email finally loads, and I scan its contents. It’s from my advisor in the financial aid office, where I just came from.
Hi, Cross!
Just following up from our conversation. I’ve attached the invoice for our residential housing, to be paid on January 20th—one week from today, as discussed. Please don’t hesitate to reach out with any questions.
Here is a link for tutors. We recommend finding one for each class.
Sincerely,
Maureen Bladwell
I open the attachment and gawk at the amount. There’s no way. I drive back to my teammate’s house slowly, wracking my brain for a solution that doesn’t involve my mother. But, like her ears were burning, she calls just before I pull into the driveway.
“Morning,Mamá,” I answer.
“Mijo. I got an email from your financial aid office yesterday…”
My smile fades. “Oh. I just left her office–”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were struggling?” She sounds hurt that I didn’t open up to her.
“I–”
“The important thing is that they’re being lenient,” she continues. “But it seems like the housing is a situation. Is that right?”
I cover my face. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with this. I’m going to figure something out.”
“Escuincle, you know better than to keep things from me.”
She just called me a brat, which is pretty familiar. Growing up, I heardescuinclecome out of her mouth more than my name. I drop my hand and roll my eyes, but her tone warns against argument.
“Robert has already fixed it,” she declares.
I sit up straighter. “What? How?”
“He’s been looking to invest in a property in Shadow Valley, and he bought a house recently. It’s been undergoing somerepairs, but it’s vacant—soon to be fully furnished. And since you now need somewhere to stay…”
“Mamá,I can’t accept that.”
She scoffs. “Robert just texted you the address. There’s a delivery truck coming today, so you’d be helping out a lot if you were there to receive it. And…”
I hear Robert in the background but can’t make out what he’s saying.
“There’s a key under the mat,” she finishes. “Okay?”
Damn.
“Okay. Yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,mijo. Robert says he’ll call you about the details of the house later this afternoon.”
My head hurts from the whiplash of the morning.
