I was still in a really good mood the next day when I went to the bank to make a deposit in my savings account. I really ought to move my checking account here too, I thought as I pushed the door open and nodded to the security guard here. I could easily make transfers between my checking account and the savings account. But it was kind of fun to go to the bank, it felt adult. I only had a short wait, and the teller completed the transaction efficiently. "Anything else I can help you with?" she said cheerfully, and I returned her smile.
"No th--" I broke off as I looked closer at the receipt. "Actually, yeah. There's a problem here. There seems to be seven thousand dollars missing. It should be almost forty two thousand. It's my college money." I looked at her without comprehension. "Could there be a calculation error or something?"
"A few cents, maybe, as interest is calculated, but not several thousand," she said, frowning. "Let's take a look at the transactions." She typed, then scrolled down. "Ah." After a pause, she turned the screen to me.
A withdrawal had been made earlier in the month. By my mother.
I though I might pass out.
"Could I close this account and open a new one?" I asked, clearing my throat.
"Well, you're not the only owner of the account," she said, looking at the information. "Jane Knight and Charlotte and Joseph O'Reilly are also on this account. Excuse me, Charlotte is deceased."
"Jane is my mom. My grandma died a couple of years ago." I felt tears well up in my eyes. "My mom used my college money for my brother's skating." I could see the teller put two and two together, but thankfully she didn't ask about my brother.
"Well, what we can do is transfer this money to a new savings account," she said, and when I agreed, walked me over to a customer service rep, explained that we needed to transfer the money to an account where I would be the sole account owner, and it was done easily.
I was a little unsteady as I left the bank. Sitting in the car didn't seem to be helping any, so I drove to the condo slowly and carefully. I went in and sat on my bed, trying to make sense of it all, but I couldn't understand why Mom would think it was ok to take that money. Grandma had left me that money specifically for college and college-related expenses like application fees. She left Starry an equal amount, which he could use for skating instead. I reached for my phone.
"Grandpa, did you know that Mom took seven thousand dollars out of my college fund?" I asked as soon as he answered the phone. He was silent.
"No, I was unaware of that," he said after a moment. "How did you find out?" he asked after a moment more, and I told him about checking the slip after my deposit, having to clear my throat first. "I don't quite know what to make of this," he said. "But I'll get to the bottom of this, Delia."
I didn't know what might be confusing. The only thing in our lives that could swallow that much money was my brother's skating career. After a bit, I got up and went to my closet, clearing the top shelf of all the cheap little stuffed animals, including the bunny I'd tried to teach trig to. Up until that national title, he'd always brought me back a cute stuffed animal from each competition from the ones fans tossed on the ice. I put them in a garbage bag, throwing it into the dumpster. Then I went back to my room to wait.
I just sat there until I heard the front door open a little past six, then I walked out into the living room. "Hi, Delia, how was school?" Mom asked, putting her briefcase down.
"Why did you steal seven thousand dollars from my college fund?"
Her head jerked up, dismayed. "I didn't steal anything. We will repay that money. But Stan's platelet therapy isn't covered by insurance, and the bill was due." Her face and voice were tight.
"How, exactly, are you going to pay me back? What untapped source of money is there? If you had more money, you wouldn't have had to take mine. And there isn't much time left before I go to college."
"There will be some money left over from Stan's prize money from Four Continents," she said. "And maybe you can take a gap year before starting at community college. You are going to get your education, Delphinia, you just--"
I grabbed my windbreaker and ran out of the house before I could hear any more bullshit about sacrifice. There was no way I was going to sacrifice my future for the boy wonder. I ran in the opposite direction of the library and skate park--my safe zones--I didn't want to see anybody I knew. Or anybody, period. I found myself in a park that had a little copse of trees and dropped down by one, leaning against it and starting to cry.
I cried myself dry, which took a surprisingly long time, then I was faced with the problem of all that snot and no kleenex. Then I must have fallen asleep; it was full dark when I woke up, still with anger and sadness and despair swirling through me, but now with additional swollen eyes and sinuses and my skin felt raw from where I'd scrubbed the tears away. I went to check the time on my phone, but I'd ran out of the condo without it. The town had a ten pm curfew for under-eighteens during the week, and I had to get back.
When I opened the door, it turned out that I had just made it back before the curfew. "Delphinia, where have you been?" Dad snapped when I shuffled in.
"Out," I said wearily. Everybody was in the living room.
"You didn't take your phone with you. We had no way of reaching you."
"What on earth did parents do before cell phones?" I asked, a spark of genuine curiosity raising its ugly head. If sparks had heads. Urg. Whatever.
"Del--" Mom started, and I cut her off.
"I really don't care. You have justifications, you have excuses. But the fact remains that you took money meant for me to benefit the boy wonder. This skating thing has gotten completely out of control. But I'm going to say this just once... You can decide for yourselves to drain yourselves dry for that one's skating career. It's a never ending black hole. There will always be expenses or something else that can be done, and none of you seem to have the sense to say 'enough' or 'you don't need two hand embroidered and beaded costumes because your skating is what wins competitions, not garments that look like a Bedazzler projectile-vomited on them.'" He'd gotten the boxes with next season's outfits just before Four Continents. "You can decide for yourselves that you can do that. But I've sacrificed enough. No more. I'm completely done."
"Del--" Dad said.
"No. There will be no gap year. There will be no community college. I am going to go to the best college I can get into, and it will be a four-year institution where I can finally feel at home again and where I can have a future. College is where I finally get to be special. And I don't mind doing it all on my own." I felt tears pricking my eyes again; how was that even possible? That last comment was a total lie. I minded, a lot. I turned and slogged down the hall to my bedroom, kicking my door closed and falling on the bed. I was asleep before I could do anything more.
I woke up in the same position I'd fallen asleep in around five the next morning. I was still so tired. I listened, but nobody was up yet. I considered my options. I would feel justified in skipping a day of classes, but that would mean staying here, and at least at school I'd have distractions. So I hauled myself up, changed clothes, and walked quietly to the half bath where I washed my face and brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back into a pony tail. I'd take a shower after gym. Maybe there would be something I could hit in gym. I picked up my backpack, my skateboard, and put on my gear outside in the cold fog, stepping onto my board confidently.
I found the fog soothing as I rolled through the parking lot, the mist on my face, carefully listening and watching for any approaching vehicles, but I stuck to the sidewalks anyway; there weren't even any joggers yet and it was safer. No way was I going to get run over now. I had a brief wait until the nearest McDonalds opened, then went in for a McMuffin and juice, and in an act of indulgence, hashbrowns. Then I relocated to a Starbucks, got a venti mocha with extra shots of espresso and sat at a table, completing a couple of homework assignments. I got to school early and went in search of Mr Tiller. He was usually at school early to help his students, but I'd beaten everybody there. I blurted everything out. He got up and closed the door. There was a clear glass panel in it as per district policy, to protect students and teachers from problems and accusations, but there was some privacy in the closed door.
"So I hate to ask, but do you have any suggestions about how to make myself the most attractive to schools?" I ended up. "Specifically, UC-SD. I've got to prepare the best I can."
Mr Tiller rubbed his face and pushed a box of kleenex over his desk to me. "Ok, Delia. If you're as good in your other classes as you are in mine, you're in good shape. Study hard for the ACTs and SATs. I have an advanced earth sciences class that I offer every other year, and unfortunately this was one of those years. But you can sign up for an independent study class with me next fall and we can cover the material that way, giving you an additional opportunity to shine. We'll do more projects that showcase your planning and research skills. I'll write you a college reference. And it turns out that I know some people at the university, so I'll see what kind of strings I can pull. San Diego has pretty good financial aid," he said encouragingly. Then he steered me down to the guidance counselor, who had just arrived, and gave her a quick and effective outline of what I'd said, then retreated, closing the door behind him.
"I can only imagine how upset you are, Delia, but if this had to happen, it's good that it happened now, during your junior year, where we have some time to plan," she said. "I'll help you look for scholarships and help you navigate the financial aid office of whatever college or university you accept so that they understand your special circumstances." Then we talked about what had happened. She had no answers for me, but it was surprisingly helpful just to finally talk about the whole skating nightmare and my family's response to it. We finished in time for me to go fix my makeup before class.
All too soon, my last class let out and I was left at loose ends. I didn't have to work, but I didn't want to go back to the condo. Instead, I rode over to the skating park, where I spent a little time before going into the library. I found a table in an out-of-the way area behind nonfic, with a window that looked out onto some trees behind the building, and did my homework. We had an essay to write about a facet of WWI, and I'd chosen to research the beginning of the war, so I spent some time in the stacks pulling down books to look at. I found one that seemed perfectly on point, The Guns of August, and a couple more general books about the war as a whole. We had to have at least three sources, so the books plus a couple of on-line sources would provide a good amount of information plus show a little extra effort. I cracked the cover of The Guns of August and began to read, quickly realizing that I'd need to diagram and make notes to make the most use of the wealth of information. It was really interesting, and nice to read about a bigger screwup than the one I was living.
I looked up as somebody pulled the other chair out and sat down, opening my mouth to object. Then I closed my mouth. Grandpa looked at me across the pile of books.