“It’s about money, Ella, Langport is expensive, and even with the grant, we just don’t have the money.” I say softly.
The words hang in the air heavy and suffocating between us. Her shoulders sag, and for a moment, I get a glimpse of her as the little girl in the hospital after the crash, so vulnerable and hurt. “This isn't fair! You always say we can figure things out, and now—” Her words cut off as the weight of the truth hits her. “Oh,” she says quietly, her anger evaporating. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I knew it was a lot, but I thought maybe...” Her voice trails off as she looks at her hands, shaking her head slightly.
“I’m so sorry,” My heart breaks as I watch her try to process the disappointment.
She shakes her head quickly. “It’s fine. Really. I mean, I’ll just stay here and go to Greenview. It’s not a bad school, and I can still be a doctor one day.” She forces a smile, but there’s a crack in her voice, and tears welling in her eyes. She is trying so hard to be strong and pretend she isn’t crushed, and it’s killing me. Ella has faced so many letdowns in her sixteen years; this feels like one too many.
Cami’s offer crashes back into my mind:five thousand dollars for one party.
It's enough to cover the difference in tuition for the quarter. Maybe it's enough to get Ella on that plane to Langport without another word about money. Maybe... maybe I could do a few more parties to cover the first year, and by then, I could figure out a better plan.
Ella’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Vi, it’s okay. Really. You don’t have to feel bad. I’ll be fine here.”
I nod, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. But as I look at her, sitting there with all her dreams just out of reach, and something inside me snaps. I can't let this be another disappointment for her. Not if I can do anything about it.
“Ella, I’ll figure it out. You’re going to Langport,” I say, my voice sounding steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait, what? How? You just said we couldn’t.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, forcing a smile on my face. “It’s my job to make it happen.”
I see the way her face lights up and the hope sparking back to life, and I secretly pray I can make this happen without doing something we both might regret.
By midnight, I’ve opened every tab on my laptop. The budget spreadsheet mocks me with its unchanging total—tuition, housing, meals, travel, visa, deposit, and repeat. I scroll until the numbers blur, until the only thing that makes sense is how impossible this is.
I try everything. Job listings. Freelance boards. Late-night shifts that require hours I don’t have. I fill out an application so fast I barely read the fine print. “Submit.”Instant rejection.Not even a full minute.
“Cool,” I mutter, clicking another one. “Guess no one wants a part-time vet tech who knows animal CPR and human regret.”
The glow from the screen burns my eyes.12:47 a.m.
Cami’s name lights my phone.
Of course.
I flip it and keep typing, pretending I’m not out of options. But the words on the screen stop making sense. My fingers ache, and my head feels heavy. I rest my forehead against my arm, just for a second—
Three sharp knocks sound around the room, making me jolt upright. I drag myself to the door, heart already racing. My landlord stands there with their clipboard in hand, wearing the polite expression people use right before they ruin your morning.
“I need the rest of this month’s rent by Friday.” His tone is clipped, all business. “You’re already two weeks late, and I can’t float you forever, Vi.” He pauses, and his expression softens. “You’re a good tenant, but I have bills too.”
I nod fast, pretending the walls aren't caving in. “I’ll get it for you.”
He doesn’t press me, simply nods and walks away, leaving me standing in the doorway, heart racing. The second the door shuts, I lean my forehead against it. My breath stutters. Everything in me goes still.
There’s no miracle coming.
The phone buzzes again. Cami.
Of course.
I stare at the screen until her name blurs. Her voice echoes in my head—five thousand for one night.Easy money. Easy mistake.
I don’t answer.Not yet.
Instead, I grab my jacket and keys. The bank opens at nine, and maybe—just maybe—I can talk someone into believing I’m still worth betting on.
I wait in line, rehearsing the words, palms damp, and heart beating like I already know the answer. Fifteen minutes later, I do. No co-signer. No collateral. Just a pitying smile and a printed rejection.
