Chapter 1

Extra Credit

Maya’s POV

“Look at her. Still wearing that same ugly sweater from last week.”

Tessa’s voice cut across the back of the lecture hall, bright and mean. I kept my eyes on the page in front of me, but the words still landed hard between my shoulder blades.

“I swear she only owns three outfits,” another girl said. “All of them from the thrift store. Charity case special.”

Soft laughter followed. Not loud enough for the professor at the front to notice. Loud enough for everyone in the last three rows to hear, including me.

My fingers tightened around my pen until the plastic creaked. I forced myself to keep writing the date at the top of my notebook even though my hand would not stay steady.

A third voice joined in, lower, almost bored. “My cousin works in financial aid. She said the full-ride kids are usually the ones who know how to smile pretty for the committee. Or do more than smile.”

More laughter. Someone kicked the back of my chair, just hard enough to make me jolt forward.

“Oops,” Tessa whispered. “Didn’t see you there, scholarship.”

I did not turn around. Turning around only made them louder. I stared at the open textbook until the words blurred. My scholarship letter sat folded in the front pocket of my bag. Full tuition. Housing. One condition: keep the grades high or lose everything. My mother still worked nights at the diner. There was nothing else waiting for me if I failed.

The girl beside Tessa leaned closer. “Do you think she actually studies, or does she just sit there looking pathetic until someone feels sorry enough to help?”

“Please,” Tessa answered. “Have you seen the way she stares at the professors? She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

My stomach twisted. I pressed the tip of my pen harder into the paper and wrote the next sentence without really seeing it.

Another soft kick hit the back of my chair. “Hey, charity. You dropped something.” A crumpled piece of paper landed near my foot. Someone had written the word “beggar” across it in thick black marker.

I left it there. I did not trust my hands to pick it up without shaking.

“She’s pretending she can’t hear us,” the second girl said. “That’s cute.”

“I bet she hears everything,” Tessa replied. “She just doesn’t have the spine to say anything back. Scholarship girls never do. They’re too scared of losing the free money.”

My throat felt tight. I kept my eyes down and counted the seconds until the lecture would end.

When class finally finished, chairs scraped, and voices rose. I stayed seated, waiting for the aisle to clear. It never did.

Tessa walked past and deliberately knocked my notebook to the floor with her bag. Pages scattered across the tile.

“You should be more careful,” Tessa said, already walking away. “Some of us actually paid to be here.”

Her friends laughed. One of them added, “Maybe if she spent less time on her knees and more time studying, she wouldn’t look so lost.”

“Or maybe she likes being on her knees,” the third girl said. “Explains the free ride.”

I knelt and gathered the papers with shaking hands. My face burned so hot I felt dizzy. I kept my head down all the way into the hallway, then down the quieter stairwell that led to the older wing of the building. Only when the door closed behind me did I stop and lean against the wall. My eyes stung.

“I hate them,” I whispered to the empty stairwell. “I hate all of them.”

The words came out cracked. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweater and kept walking.

I needed the noise to stop. Just for a little while.

My feet carried me to the empty lecture hall on the second floor. The one no one used after three. The door was unlocked. I slipped inside, turned the lock, and stood there for a moment in the sudden quiet.

The room smelled of chalk and old wood. Late light fell across the empty seats. I walked to the middle row, the seat I always chose so no one could sit behind me, and dropped my bag on the floor.

I sat. For a long time, I only stared at the desk. The comments from class still circled in my head. Charity case. On her knees. Beggar. The words would not leave.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Just stop talking about me.”

I reached into the bottom of my bag and pulled out the small object wrapped in dark cloth. I had bought it three weeks ago with money I could not really spare. Quiet. Discreet. Mine.

I unwrapped it. The plastic felt cool in my hand. Outside, the hallway stayed silent.

I glanced at the locked door once, then slipped the toy under my skirt. The first low vibration pulled a soft sound from my throat.

“Ah…”

My thighs tensed. Heat gathered low and slow. I turned the dial higher.

A quiet moan slipped out before I could stop it. “Oh… God…”

My head tipped back against the chair. One hand gripped the edge of the desk while the other stayed hidden, pressing the toy exactly where I needed it. My hips shifted. The chair creaked.

The buzz deepened. Wetness gathered between my legs, warm and unmistakable. I could feel myself growing slick around the toy. Another moan, longer this time, left my mouth.

“Mmm… yes…”

I bit my lip, but the sound still escaped. My hips began to move in small, helpless circles. The wet sounds of my own body filled the quiet room.

“Please,” I breathed. “Please… just let me feel something else.”

Images flickered behind my closed eyes. Being watched. Being wanted. Someone older and certain telling me I did not have to stay small. The fantasy stayed formless. I did not give it a face. I only chased the rising heat.

My breathing turned ragged. The muscles in my thighs trembled. I pressed harder, rocking against the toy.

“Ah… ah… fuck…”

The word slipped out broken. Wetness dripped down onto the seat beneath me. I could feel it running along the inside of my thigh. I was soaked. The toy slid easier now, the vibration stronger against my swollen clit.

“I’m so close,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’m so… close…”

The heat coiled tighter. My free hand clenched into a fist on the desk. My hips lifted off the chair. The toy hummed against me, relentless. I was right there, right on the edge of falling apart, floating somewhere high and white and far away from every ugly word that had been thrown at me today.

“Please… please… I’m going to…”

A floorboard in the hallway creaked.

My eyes flew open.

I froze, the toy still pressed tight against me, the low vibration continuing as if nothing had changed. My heart slammed once, hard. Footsteps stopped right outside the door.

The handle turned.

The lock I had turned earlier should have held.

It did not.

The door began to open.