My Scholarship Became Their Graduation Meal Fund

"Hold on… you guys are already done eating?" I'd hurried over straight from my tutoring gig, and my backpack straps were digging into my shoulders.

"Talk about bad timing, Kieran. The advisor just left." Ethan Hatton, the class treasurer, said sarcastically. "Everyone wanted to hit up a speakeasy bar later, so we talked it over and decided to bump dinner forward by an hour.”

I was dumbstruck. No one had given me a heads-up about the time change. The advisor was nowhere to be seen in the private room, and the plates on the table were almost polished clean.

I frowned at Ethan and asked, "If it was bumped up an hour, why was there no announcement in the main group chat?"

He frowned and made no effort to hide his annoyance. "Oh, because it was a last-minute change. We simply told each other privately."

"That doesn't change the fact that no one notified me!"

"Maybe if people actually liked you, you'd be in the loop."

My hands balled into fists. "I wasn't late—I showed up right on time. You're the ones who changed the time behind my back, and that's on you!"

"That's enough. We're all about to graduate, so let's not make a fuss over such a trivial matter."

Cosmo Finch, the class president, briskly returned to his seat, grabbed his jacket, and began calling for everyone's attention. "Let's head over to the speakeasy bar, everyone. The venue's been reserved.

"Settle the remaining bill here, Kieran. You bagged that eight-thousand-dollar scholarship, so you're the richest one in our class. Since you're an honors student, it's only right that you foot the bill."

It instantly dawned on me that my classmates had done this on purpose just to make me foot the rest of the bill. On top of that, they'd even tricked me into paying another 300 dollars for being late.

Before I could refuse, Cosmo had already led the remaining dozen or so classmates out the door. Even the ones who were usually on good terms with me kept their eyes glued to their phones or chatted casually with each other as they walked right past me.

The waitress stood in my way with a bill in hand. "Sir, the grand total's eight thousand dollars; you still have five thousand dollars outstanding. Would you like to pay by QR code or card?"

I hurriedly protested, "I didn't even touch the food! You should go after the person who just left. He's the one who made the reservation."

The waitress couldn't have cared less about who picked up the tab. Pointing at the figure who had already disappeared through the door, she said, "That gentleman told us you were treating them, and our restaurant only holds the person left at the table accountable.

"Pay up, or I'll have to call security or the cops. Our surveillance footage clearly shows that you came in with him. Everyone else has left, so you're responsible for the bill."