Should Have Not Asked - New Adult Romance (Wattys 2014)

Chapter 5 - The Choice

After my class with Hoffman in Creative Writing 206, I hurry to the finance department to request for a student loan. I'll be needing it to help me survive college for this remaining month. My savings are solely intended for Dad's hospitalization.

Unfortunately, the comptroller and the head student loan officer decline my request. They say that a new policy is implemented a semester ago that loans for the finals must be requested two months before it is needed.

I am too late.

Financial aids for the unfortunate are already distributed to the requestors and new requests at this hour are useless.

I am too late and could only sigh.

However, there is one last chance for me although I don't think I'll accept it.

"You can request for student assistance from the Student Council Office," the lady comptroller tells me. "Ask directly for Etheridge's approval, and he might refer you to her mother's foundation. Ever heard of the Etheridge Scholastic Grant?"

No way. There's no way I'd see that man again! And in no way shall I ask help from him.

"Is there a way that I won't need to go to Damien?" I shyly ask, feeling a little rebellious against myself for having asked it.

"You can always go there if you need the assistance in three months," the comptroller answers. "In your case, you need the money in a week before the finals, so better go to Damien. He can help you. It's his mother's foundation anyway."

"Thank you, Ms. Tate," I say, and I turn to the door.

So everything I need is in Damien's mercy. Why does it have to be him? Why must help come from him? Why can't it be somebody else when everything about us is fucked up right now?

If only cursing myself will remedy this complexity, it could have been resolved long before.

No student loan.

I'm in a shortage of funds for Dad's hospitalization.

Mom is in a state of shaken emotional stability.

Oh God, where do I get the answer for all these?

Snap!

Ray flickers his fingers in front of me as I am taken back to my senses. I have been staring into the empty air while we are waiting for the bus.

"Why the long face?" asks Ray. "I already see wrinkles on your forehead," he teases. "Still thinking about money, Angel?"

"No." I have to say it so Ray won't worry. I don't want him thinking about being the over-caring friend again.

"Oh! So you've found a way?"

"Yeah!" I lie as I quickly think of the next thing to tell him in case he queries like an investigator.

"Etheridge?" His nose wrinkles.

"Of course, not!"

"Good!" He taps my shoulder as though agreeing with me. "I'm so done with Etheridge! He's been torturing me with endless questions about you since last night at Maxwell's and in school. I even had to put up with him when I was in the library reviewing for the finals."

"He did?" Well, I am not expecting that. Nevertheless, the thought of a man with a bad reputation as a constant irritant somehow softens the flatness on my face. He's not really stopping, is he? He's worse than a toddler who can't understand the two letters N and O— NO.