"Well…" I chuckle awkwardly. "Not, like,thisarea, of course. But, you know, the North Shore is only twenty minutes away. I wonder if you can see the bridge from here?—"
As she taps again, I'm grateful that she's stopping my word vomit.
She swivels in her chair and grabs the paper she just printed. "This is everything that's not included in your Virtuoso scholarship. You'll have to make sure to purchase the items before September 12th, which is when classes start. Your specific professors will add to that list."
Opening a drawer, she takes out what looks like a small black notebook and puts it on her desk with the printed papers.
"This is the Silver Falls University code of conduct. It has everything you should know about the college and its rules. That includes the dress code and"—she points at her head but is looking at my hair—"that's not allowed. So, you'll have to fix it before classes start."
For a second, I wonder what could possibly be wrong with my hair, and then I realize she means the color. I'm a natural brunette, but I always bleach half of my hair on one side, and color the other half black, including my fringe.
"Oh." That's all I can say as my fingertips come to touch the bleached side of my head. "O-Okay."
Another page prints, and she adds it to the pile. "I would actually suggest you get it sorted before this. It's the inauguration of the new construction site. There'll be a lot of journalists that day, and we don't really want you representing the university improperly."
"The new construction site?"
"Yes, the family who finances your scholarship also donated for a new building for the music department. Construction is starting, and they're inaugurating the beginning of the project. It's Saturday."
"Saturday, this Saturday? As in, the day after tomorrow?"
She looks at me, unimpressed. "Yes, this Saturday."
"I won't be able to come. I work on Saturdays, and it's too late to change my shift."
Not caring one bit, she taps on her keyboard once again. "It's compulsory for you. Part of your scholarship conditions is to attend any events organized by the people funding your studies. At least the public ones you're invited to."
I probably should’ve read the conditions of my scholarship more thoroughly, but I didn’t care when I got my letter. All I wanted was to be here, and I’m here.
"It sounds like they're just trying to show off their good deed."
"That's exactly what they're doing." She doesn't even stop her typing.
At least she's honest.
"Everything else you need is in here. I strongly suggest looking at the map of the campus ahead of classes starting. It's bigger than you think. Anything else I can help you with?"
That's it? No welcoming package, an SFU hoodie? A tour of the campus?
I shake my head, taking all the documents with me, and my eyes land on the latest she printed. The invitation to the inauguration.
I almost drop everything when I see the name on it.
The Duval family is proud to invite you to the inauguration of their new construction site.
As in, Achilles Duval. If his family is the one paying for my scholarship, he'll surely be there on Saturday. Just like that,my excitement comes back tenfold. As if it hasn’t already been proven that he's not someone I should want to be around.
I spend the evening alone on my sofa, looking at everything I've been given. I wish Lena wasn't working so she could hold my hand through this shitshow. The Duvals might be paying for my tuition, but everything else is stupidly expensive. The uniform alone is over a thousand dollars. Who can afford that? Well,theycan, of course. But who on a scholarship can afford designer uniforms? And why do they need to be designer?
"I'm going out, sweetpea," my dad says as he walks past the sofa I'm sitting on.
"What? Where?" I drag my eyes away from the numbers on the sheet, my jaw aching from how hard I've been chewing on my bubblegum.
He shrugs, opening his wallet and counting the cash he has in it.
"Just out with the guys."
He's either going to the bar or to gamble illegally somewhere, but I've long given up on getting the truth out of him. He's an addict, and there's no fixing that illness without help. But he doesn't want my help.
