~The next day~
I clutch the envelope in my hand so tightly it crinkles. Every step toward the administration building feels heavier than the last. The dread in my chest grows with each one.
I finally scraped together enough tips from the diner to cover this month’s payment — barely. The envelope contains everything I’ve managed to save by skipping meals, walking instead of catching the bus, and pretending I didn’t notice when Frank took my tip jar and didn’t return it. Again.
The admin office is quiet when I walk in, too early for the usual rush of students begging for extensions or lost passwords. A woman I vaguely recognize from orientation sits behind the counter, typing with manicured nails.
I approach the desk, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Hi, um… I’m here to make a payment
