Total Charges: $200,500
Amount Paid: $200,500
Payment Method: Internal Transfer—Office of the Chancellor
Balance: $0.00
I blink twice, trying and failing to wrap my mind around this. But no matter how long I stare at the page, the numbers don’t change. There’s no mention of a scholarship. No foundation, no donor, no award title—nothing. Just cold numbers and a mystery payment.
“Internal Transfer—Office of the Chancellor”?
I grip the paper tighter, shaking my head. This wasn’t a scholarship. It wasn’t based on merit, need, or on anything that I earned. It was paid for.
My heart hammers so hard, I’m afraid someone will hear it thumping. My vision tilts, the file wobbling in my hands as the world narrows into a single thought. I wasn’t accepted at all. I was placed in this school. But why?
“Sam,” Alex whispers, his voice rough and full of urgency. “Hurry up.”
I jerk like I’ve been yanked, my hands fumbling as I shove papers back into the folder. They crumple at the edges and nothing wants to slide in right. It’s as if my fingers no longer belong to me, doing the opposite of what my brain wants them to.
I shove the two students’ records back in place, then reopen my own. Quickly I snap photos of the letters and the cost summary. The flash is off and the angles are sure to be shit, but that doesn’t matter, I just need the proof.
Finally, I tuck the manila folder back in its place, taking extracare that I didn’t mess up the alphabetical order. And just as I’m about to close the drawer, my eyes catch something—a name.
COLLINS, MIRANDA.
My body locks up, every limb wired tight. A noise scratches at my throat, but nothing comes out.
“Mom?” The word comes out broken, that single syllable crushing me.
Everything goes blank, and my knees wobble. I grip the drawer to keep myself from crashing to the floor. Her name stares back at me, and my whole world shatters. And suddenly I’m that little girl that found her face down on her bed with an empty pill bottle in her hand.
I hesitate to pull her folder out but manage to get it together long enough to do so. The pages have turned a dull yellow, the print slightly faded. My eyes narrow in on the graduation date—nineteen years ago. She would have been about twenty-one at the time.
“She was a student here? Why didn’t she ever tell me?” I whisper. This is all too much, too suffocating.
“Sam,” Alex hisses again, snapping me out of it. “We need to go now.”
I force the file back in place but then think better of it. I need to know more. So I snatch up the contents but leave the empty folder behind. That way, if someone were to look, they wouldn’t know at first glance that her actual file is missing.
Lifting my shirt, I tuck the pages into my waistband and hurriedly cover them. The drawer slams shut behind me as I rush out of the office. Suddenly, I remember the door was locked and make quick work of reengaging it. The moment I make it to thefront, a light flashes through the glass and I step back, pressing my back into the nearest wall like I want to melt into it.
Alex brings a finger to his lips and tucks himself into the dark corner by the entrance. The shadow of a man reflects on the floor, and I hold a hand over my mouth to still my breaths.
My heart thumps against my ribs as he walks nearer before pausing. It feels like forever before he turns and leaves. I finally exhale shakily.
Alex holds up a hand, silently telling me to stay put. He inches toward the door, his back to the wall as he checks the lobby. After a beat, he grabs the knob and slowly peeks his head out. Without looking back, he waves me forward and I race to him, staying close.
He locks the door from the inside, and we bolt, jetting for the exit, only to hear the footsteps of the security office coming down the left hallway. Alex grabs my hand, tugging me behind a pillar, shielding me between his back and the wall. I grab hold of his shirt, squeezing for dear life.
The man moves past us, and Alex, who’s still holding my hand, guides me away. “It’s clear. Let’s go.”
How is he so calm? We nearly got caught.
We walk to the exit, and when he pushes the door, it creaks loudly. We freeze.
“Hey! Who’s there?”
Alex yanks me through the threshold. His arm wraps around my waist, spinning me toward the door so fast the files crush between my spine and the door as he uses my body to close it. Then he’s on me, and I barely gasp before his mouth crashes onto mine.
