“Appeal denied.”
I didn’t even sit down.
I couldn’t.
If I sat, I might not get back up.
“My scholarship gets reviewed if I fail this class,” I said. “You know that.”
“Then you should have been on time.”
I felt heat flood my face.
For a second I was nine years old again, standing in a hospital room watching my mother try to smile through pain she had waited too long to treat because she was scared of bills.
People with power always sounded so calm when they were ruining your life.
“That woman would have died,” I said.
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