Justice Served over Takeout

They were not just fining me. They were canceling the yearly subsidy too, worth 4,000 dollars.

We had already sold our only apartment to pay for my mom's treatment. I was a junior, and that scholarship was my only plan for next semester.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "Officer, can you tell me who filed the report?"

The older police officer shook his head. "Regulations. We can't disclose that."

I clenched my fist under the desk until my knuckles burned.

My deliveries had gone missing seven or eight times. Each time I filed a complaint, the school responded with the same boilerplate policy statement. The footage was unclear, they said. They could not confirm who was responsible.

But the one time I put a little "extra" in my food, the thief ended up in the hospital. Suddenly, responsibility was crystal clear, and it was mine.

Nice.

"The person stole my food and got sick. Why am I the one paying?" I said.

Edwin Wilson, whom everyone called Mr. Wilson, let out a tired sigh. "No matter who stole first, the moment you put something like that in the meal, the nature of it changes. They were hospitalized. Their stomach was pumped. That is a fact."

"And them stealing from me isn't a fact?" I shot back.

The younger officer flipped through the statement in his hands and cut in, his voice bland but pointed, "I suggest you cooperate. They are only asking for medical fees. They are not pursuing criminal charges. That is already generous."

"Then let me see their medical records," I said. "If their stomach was pumped, what did they pump out?"

The older police officer frowned.

Edwin leaned forward, his tone smoothing out. "Finn, why are you pushing this? The school has already mediated. Just follow the process. Don't go looking for trouble."

I had learned something in my first year. If you were poor and still wanted to live with dignity, you should either rely on your fists or your brain. My fists were nothing special, so I sharpened my mind.

I had worked through legal codes for three years. Not because I loved statutes, but because I refused to be the easy target people squeezed when it suited them.

Edwin seemed to take my silence as surrender. His shoulders relaxed, and his voice softened. "Look, the school is under pressure. That's why they're canceling the 4,000. How about this? Pay the medical fees first. Once things settle down, I'll help you apply for hardship aid. I can probably get some of it back for you."

I nodded. I even looked obedient as I pulled out my phone and opened the transfer screen.

"Okay," I said. "Mr. Wilson, which QR code should I use?"

Relief flickered across his face. Money always had that effect on people.

I typed in 640 and tapped confirm. My screen flashed a green Transfer Successful banner.

Edwin checked his phone. His brow creased. "I didn't get anything."

"That's strange. Mine says it went through." I tilted my screen toward him. "Probably a network delay. Give it a second."

He refreshed twice. Still nothing.

I stepped in, helpful and concerned. "Do you want me to check whether your account has some kind of restriction?"

The moment someone believed money was about to land, their guard dropped. Edwin actually handed me his phone.

I took it and scanned fast, not greedy, just precise. The top chat was with the dean of student affairs.

[The other side offered too much. We cannot afford to offend whoever is backing them.]

So that was it—backroom pressure. It was someone with connections, and the school had chosen who to protect.

Excitement sparked in my chest, sharp and clean. I had always loved a fight, especially the kind you won with words.

I handed the phone back as if nothing had happened.

"Maybe I entered something wrong," I said. "I'm out of money right now. I'll go back and redo it."

The transfer record was fake anyway. I had sent it to my own alternate account.

I had barely cleared the administrative building when my phone vibrated.

It was Edwin.

I answered. His voice dropped, tight and controlled. "Finn, I'll be honest with you. This case was mediated jointly by the school and the security office. All I can do is coordinate."

He paused, then pressed harder, "If the money doesn't arrive within 30 minutes, I'll have to submit the materials up the chain to the dean. And once it reaches that level, there's no room to turn this around."

I gripped my phone until my fingers went white.