Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
I match her scowl to let her know I’ve received her rejection, loud and clear, and quickly look away like I couldn’t care less. But it’s not true, because now I’m wondering, Well, shit. What if she’s Kelly Gessler and finding out I’m Auggie Vaughn would turn that scowl into a smile? I totally get her not being interested in some random creep in a bar—fair enough. Men can be total trash. Just look at the man to my left. But if she’s Kelly, maybe she’d have a different reaction to me, if she knew my identity. Maybe, if she’s Kelly, she’d like catching up with a blast from her past.
“And what’s new with you, Augustus?” Dad asks, jerking my attention back to him. Well, that’s weird. Normally, my father doesn’t ask that question. Once it became clear I plan to help abandoned and abused animals at shelters and rescues after graduation, rather than joining a practice that caters to rich suburbanites and their designer dogs—which therefore means I’ll probably never make the kind of money my father equates with human value—Dad lost all interest in my schooling.
“Nothing much,” I say. “I’ve been going to school. Studying. Oh, I moved into Grandma’s condo six weeks ago. Did you hear about that?”
“Sorry to hear she passed. She was a good woman.”
My grandmother, my mom’s mom, fucking hated my father. But I manage to say, “She was the best,” before taking another sip of my beer. “Oh, I do have some exciting school-related news. I’ve got a second interview for a really coveted summer internship tomorrow morning. It’s at this renowned animal hospital where—"
“Is it a paid internship?”
I shift on my stool. “No, but if I get it, knock on wood, all hours worked this summer will count toward class credits in the fall, which ultimately will save you money, because tuition is based on the amount of units—"
“That’s actually a perfect segue,” Dad says. “I’ve got some news I wanted to deliver to you in person, son. About your tuition.”
Fucking hell. I knew Dad asked me here to deliver some bad news. But I never in a million years thought it’d have something to do with my tuition. At Grandpa’s final birthday party last year, Dad repeated his prior promise to pay all four years of tuition, as long as I continued covering my living expenses, which I’ve done. The veterinary program is four years, and I’m only just now about to finish up my second year. So, what could he possibly have to say about my tuition now?
Dad calmly sets down his Scotch. “You’re on your own, kid.”
I wait for him to explain further. When he doesn’t, I ask, “What does that mean? What percentage of tuition will I need to cover myself and starting when?”
“All of it, starting now.” He’s dropped his bomb like he’s talking about the weather, rather than delivering a deathblow to me. With a shrug, he adds, “I’ve gotten you halfway there. Now, it’s up to you to get yourself the rest of the way.”
I can’t believe my ears. If I’d known Dad was going to ditch his promise halfway through my schooling, I surely would have made some different choices. I might have worked construction this past summer to save money, the same way I did during my undergrad summers, rather than volunteering at that animal shelter for free. I might have applied for student loans, none of which are available to me now. Or perhaps I would have skipped vet school completely, opting instead to remain in my vet tech job. But what are my options now that I’m halfway through and stuck?
“Dad, please,” I choke out. “The invoice for fall semester is due tomorrow, and it’s too late for me to apply for financial aid. If I don’t secure my spot, I’ll get dropped from the program.”
“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure there’s a grace period.”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s two weeks. But I won’t have the money in two weeks, any more than I’ve got it now. Dad, please, you promised in front of Grandpa you’d—"
“My priorities have changed. There are no guarantees in life, Augustus. Borrow the money from your mother or brother, if you must. Negotiate a payment plan with the school and then work double the hours at that data entry job of yours to make the payments. You’ve got other options here, so don’t look at me like I’ve drowned your favorite puppy.”
I stare at my beer, trying to corral my racing thoughts. There might be some validity to his suggestion about negotiating a payment plan. I make a panicked mental note to check that out. But nothing else he’s suggested is even remotely possible. My mother and brother have already done enough for me. They’re letting me live in Grandma’s condo rent-free, since her place is only two blocks from campus.