The cashier smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. Have you spoken with someone at Financial Aid? They can help you explore all of your aid options in depth.”

“I have,” I sighed. “I can’t get any more loan money until next year.”

“That’s a problem,” he nodded sympathetically.

“What happens if I don’t pay?”

“There is a grace period. You have another week to pay before you incur a late fee of fifty dollars.”

Shit, I didn’t have fifty dollars to spare, let alone thousands. “What happens if I don’t pay by then?”

“You’ll incur a hold on your account.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll have to pay a $35 fee to clear the hold and make your payment.”

“You mean I’ll have to pay $35 so I can pay the $50 late fee AND my tuition?”

“Yes,” he said somewhat sheepishly.

I shook my head. Great. More money I didn’t have. “What happens if I don’t clear the hold?”

“Eventually, you’ll be subject to cancellation of your classes.”

“What do you mean? Like, permanently? I don’t want to get kicked out of SDU,” I said with feeble dread.

“No,” he smiled. “It’s not that dire. But you won’t be able to receive any credit for this term. You’ll have to retake all the classes you’re enrolled in now.”

“But they don’t offer History 3 and Sociology 3 again until next Spring! That’ll totally screw up my schedule next year!”

He spread his hands apart. “I’m sorry.”

“What can I do?” I said, panicked.

“I know this sounds harsh, but if you can find a way to cover your monthly installment payment, you won’t have anything to worry about. Try talking to your parents.”

Them. Yeah, right. They weren’t going to do shit.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, glancing over my shoulder at the people waiting in line behind me.

“No, thanks.”

My shoulders slumped as I trudged out of the Cashier’s Office.

I was going to find the nearest lamppost outside and wait until dark so I could start turning tricks. I was pretty sure one trick would cover my late fee and my hold fee.

I walked down the stairs outside the Cashier’s Office right as Tiffany Cum-dumb Butt-spouse walked by with a pair of her sorority hobots flanking her.

Great.

As always, she was dressed in new clothes, her platinum blonde hair was perfectly arranged, and I expected paparazzi to jump out of the bushes and start snapping photos of her any second. She exuded celebrity, even though I think the only thing she was famous for was being a bitch.

I ducked my head, hoping she wouldn’t notice me.

“Well, if it isn’t little miss Scumantha Banana Shit,” she sneered.

I wondered for the second time how she’d found out my full name was Samantha Anna Smith. She probably had spies everywhere. I had no doubt she could afford to hire the very best.

We were walking in the same direction, so I walked quickly, hoping to put some distance between us. I heard her tittering with her two minions behind me.

“Having a bad day, Scumantha?” she sneered at my back.

I rolled my eyes to myself and kept walking, doing my best to ignore her.

“Find any good jobs lately?” she jabbed.

What a bitch. She had totally gotten me fired out of spite, and we both knew it.

I turned and glared at her, “Shut up, Tiffany.”

She and her hobot friends cackled at me.

The thing that pissed me off more than anything was that Tiffany never had to worry about money, she never had to work for anything, and she was still the biggest bitch on the planet.

“Oh,” she cooed in baby talk, “did I hurt widdle Scumantha’s feewings?”

Her friends laughed heartily.

I pivoted on my heel and marched right up to Tiffany and her friends. The three of them stopped short, eyes bugging out.

“Hey,” one of the hobots muttered.

Tiffany frowned at me, “Hey, back off—”

SLAP!!

I smacked her right across the face. Her cheek was white where I’d hit it. I’d learned that trick from my mom. At least she was good for something.

“Oh my god!” one of the hobots gasped, covering her lips with her fingers.

The other hobot was stunned into silence.

Tiffany huffed a wordless shriek. Slowly, she raised her hand and gingerly touched her cheek with her fingertips.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t call me Scumantha.”

I turned around and walked away, expecting her and her friends to jump me or throw knives in my back. Knowing Tiffany, her daddy probably gave her a fancy hand gun she would use to gun me down.

Instead, Tiffany shrieked, “I’m really looking forward to our hearing in front of the SDU tribunal!!! I can’t wait to tell them all about how you stole my credit card AND attacked me on campus!!! I’ll make sure you’re expelled, you sniveling cunt!!!!!!!”

That hadn’t gone quite the way I’d hoped.

Sigh.

* * *

A black Firebird Trans Am was parked in the driveway when I came home. It had a huge gold firebird decal on the hood and gold pin striping around the windows. The T tops were off. It was an old muscle car, but in perfect condition. I had no idea whose it was.

I hoped it wasn’t Tiffany’s. She drove a black Mercedes, but you never knew. Maybe she was trying to impress Christos and win him back by buying him a muscle car as a present. She could certainly afford it.

Stupid bitch.

She was making my life miserable without even trying. Yeah, I hated her.

I put my key in the lock of the double front door and discovered it was already open.

“Anybody home?” I called uncertainly.

“Samantha!” Nikolos smiled as he walked out of the kitchen. “I was waiting for someone to get here. I let myself in.”

“You have a key?”

“Yeah. I’ve had it forever.”

“How come you never use it?” I smiled.

He arched an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, you know,” he said casually.

Boy, I was still putting my foot in my mouth from time to time. I guess growing up took longer than six or seven months. But I was doing my best. “Is that your car outside? It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. Seventy-seven Firebird Trans Am, Special Edition. Same one they used in Smokey and the Bandit.”

“Smokey and the what?”

“You haven’t seen Smokey and the Bandit?” Nikolos gasped.

I shook my head.

“That movie is a classic. We’re going to have to have movie night at my place. Bring Christos over. We’ll put it on my big TV.”

“Sounds like fun!’ I grinned. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I already helped myself to some of Dad’s lemonade in the fridge. I can pour you a glass.”

“Oh, I’ll get it. You sit down.” I walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass from the shelf and poured some from the pitcher perspiring on the counter.

“Did you ever hear back from my maid service?”

I sat down at the kitchen table across from Nikolos. “I didn’t. Did they try to call me?”

“I told them to call the house since I didn’t have your cell phone number. Did you not get a message?”

“No,” I said.

“Do you still need a job?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” I blurted. “I would kill for a job right now. I would clean skunk toilets if it paid.”

Confused, he asked,“Skunk toilets?”

“You know, the ones the skunks use? They probably smell awful. I hear that public skunk restrooms are the worst.”

Nikolos laughed. “Skunk toilets. You always have the strangest ideas.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked uncertainly.

“Definitely good. It shows you have a creative mind.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

I rolled my eyes, “My parents never did.” I felt like I was sinking back into my own self doubt as I talked to Nikolos. I so wanted to be over it, but all I had to do was close my eyes for a second and I could see fifty foot tall red neon numbers blinking in my mind’s eye:

-$5,000

-$5,000

-$5,000

I was never going to find that kind of money.

“So, when am I going to see some of your art, Samantha? My dad says you’ve really been coming along since he met you.”

“Yeah,” I smiled, suddenly in a better mood thinking about how nice Spiridon was to me all the time. At least I had him and Christos watching my back. But I would never dream of asking either one of them for $5,000.

I said, “I have my sketchbook, if you want to see that?”

“Sure,” Nikolos grinned.

I walked into the studio and grabbed my sketchbook off my drawing table and returned to the kitchen.

Nikolos started flipping through it on the table top from the beginning so we could both look. He didn’t say much at first. “I can see the progress right away. I’m guessing this page marks the point you started getting instruction?”

“Yeah, that was stuff I drew right after I started taking Life Drawing with Professor Childress.”

“Walt Childress?”

“Yeah. I took his class in the fall. Now I’m taking Drawing The Costumed Figure from him. Do you know him?”

“Very well. I haven’t talked to him in a few years though.”

“What’s up with Walt and Spiridon, anyway?”

Nikolos cracked a wide grin that had the same dimples as Christos. “Ahh, Walt and my dad go way, way back.”

“Was there some kind of drama between them? Whenever Walt’s name comes up, Spiridon hints around the bush, but never says anything.”

Nikolos nodded. “They have, how should I say it? A history together.” He emphasized the word history like it hid buried treasure.