Chapter 2
979 Words
The next morning, the class group chat detonated before I was even out of bed. Bianca had posted a sprawling wall of text, every line soaked in sorrow and accusation, painting a certain roommate as cold-blooded and heartless.
Bianca: I begged her on my knees, and she still wouldn't give up the slot, even though I desperately need that money to save my grandmother.
Bianca: Are rules really more important than a human life?
Dozens of replies flooded in beneath her post, a wave of students who had been skillfully led by the nose.
Student: That is seriously cold.
Student: We're all classmates here. How hard is it to help someone out?
Student: She always seemed so quiet and decent. I never knew she was this calculating.
Our teacher, Graham Holt, tagged me.
Graham: Iris Vance, report to my office immediately.
I pocketed my phone, grabbed the application form from my desk, and headed to the administration building. When I pushed open the door, Graham was cradling his travel mug and blowing across the steam. Bianca sat on the sofa beside him, her eyes swollen to the size of walnuts.
"Iris, what is this about?" The travel mug hit the desk with a heavy thud.
"Mr. Holt, per school policy, financial aid applications require supporting financial documentation." I laid the form flat on his desk. "Bianca has provided nothing."
Graham let out a dry scoff. "Rules are rules, but special circumstances call for special judgment. Her grandmother is in the ICU, and you're stonewalling her. What kind of reputation do you think that gives our department?"
I studied his self-righteous expression and felt nothing but cold contempt. Bianca had been running a steady supply of premium cigars and imported fruit to his office all semester. His objectivity had long since been purchased.
I met his accusing gaze directly. "Do you remember what happened in the class across the hall last semester? A falsified application led to a public disciplinary notice for both students, and the faculty advisor had his bonus docked that month. I'm simply following procedure and avoiding unnecessary risk."
Graham waved a dismissive hand. "The final list hasn't even been submitted. What risk? If I hadn't been running interference for you, the whole class would have branded you heartless by now."
A fragile silence settled, and right on cue, a soft sniffling rose from the sofa.
"Mr. Holt, please don't blame Iris." Bianca rubbed at her inflamed eyes. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have stayed in school after my family went bankrupt. I'm just dragging everyone down."
The manipulation was masterful. Graham's expression melted into tenderness in an instant. When he turned back to me, the severity snapped right back into place.
"Look at Bianca. That is maturity. My decision is final. The slot goes to Bianca." He delivered the verdict with absolute finality. "Go back and reflect on your ethical standards."
I stayed where I was. "Mr. Holt, are you planning to violate official policy?"
He shot up from behind his desk. "Iris, who do you think you're talking to? I'm the teacher here. I make the calls for this class. Your application is rejected, and that is the end of it."
I picked up the form. "Then I'll submit it directly to the dean's office."
I turned and headed for the door.
"Don't you dare!" His roar erupted behind me.
Bianca rushed over and caught his arm. "Mr. Holt, please calm down. Iris just wants the money so badly. She never even buys herself new clothes."
The words sounded like a plea for peace, but they poured gasoline on the flames. Graham's face went a deeper shade of gray.
"She's lost her mind over money. A selfish student like this is an embarrassment to the entire class."
I paused at the threshold and glanced back at his indignant face. "Mr. Holt, I hope you can defend your decision with the same confidence when it comes time to sign off on the paperwork."
I pushed through the door and walked toward the end of the hall.
My classes finished in the early afternoon. A figure appeared from around the corner of the corridor. Bianca leaned against the wall with a latte in hand.
"Well, well. Iris. Enjoying your scolding all by yourself?"
I didn't spare her a glance and kept walking. She pushed off the wall and fell into step beside me, entirely uninvited.
"I looked it up last night. The grant is eight thousand." Her voice was low, the glee barely concealed. "So thank you. If you hadn't fought me on this, I never would have gotten it."
I stopped and turned my head. "This has nothing to do with me."
A soft laugh slipped from her lips. "The harder you tried to block me, the harder Mr. Holt pushed for me. Doesn't that make you feel stupid? You thought you could go up against me, and look where it got you."
My gaze dropped to the six-dollar latte in her hand. "Are you finished?"
She stepped closer, her heel clicking against the floor. "Do you know why your life is such a mess? You're rigid. You're petty. Nobody can stand you. You're jealous of me, pure and simple. Jealous that people actually show up for me."
I locked eyes with her smug, defiant face. "Bianca, you're using your grandmother's life to scam money. That puts you beneath contempt."
Her smirk froze in place.
"You heard me. You're trading lies about your own family for cash, and you actually feel proud of it." My voice stayed low, each word finding its mark. "If you genuinely cared about your grandmother, you wouldn't be waving around medical records that don't exist."
Her face flushed red. "You... you have no right to call me a liar. Do you have proof?"
A sharp ringtone cut the standoff short.
- Writer
