Chapter 3: [Hozier]

I had sent out eleven job applications the previous night, and by the time I settled into my seat this morning, I had received responses from almost all of them. 

Unfortunately, none contained the good news I desperately needed. Every single application had been rejected, including the ones I had spent hours researching because they seemed promising. 

I refreshed my inbox again, hoping I had somehow missed a reply, but the same disappointing messages stared back at me.

Was it really that difficult to find a job, or had the universe decided that losing the coffee shop wasn't enough punishment for me? 

I rested my forehead against my palm and scrolled through the rejection emails, trying to understand what I was doing wrong. Some hadn't even bothered to give me a reason, while others had sent the usual polite messages about moving forward with more suitable candidates. I was beginning to hate that particular sentence.

My phone vibrated against the desk, and I glanced down at the screen, expecting another rejection. Instead, a notification from the university appeared in my inbox. I opened it without much thought, but the moment I read the subject line, my fingers went still.

Notice of Scholarship Withdrawal.

I read it again, convinced I had misunderstood something. The university was informing me that my scholarship had been withdrawn following a review of my financial aid records. 

According to the notice, discrepancies had been identified between the information in my original application and the documents currently held in their system. The decision had been approved by the scholarship review committee and would take effect immediately.

What discrepancy?

I opened the attached document, but it offered little explanation. There were instructions for appealing the decision and a deadline for submitting supporting documents, yet nothing that clearly identified what information was supposedly incorrect.

My scholarship was the only reason I could afford to remain at university. Without it, there was no way I could manage my tuition, especially after losing my job at the coffee shop.

The moment class ended, I packed my things and headed straight for the administrative building. I needed someone to explain what had happened, preferably someone who could do more than send me another automated message.

The scholarship office was busy when I arrived, so I waited until a staff member was available and explained the situation. 

After checking my student details, she informed me that the withdrawal had already been processed and advised me to speak with the dean's office for further clarification.

A few minutes later, I was sitting across from the dean, with the withdrawal notice open on my phone.

"Your case was brought before the scholarship review committee after some inconsistencies were identified in your financial aid records," he explained after checking my details.

"What inconsistencies, sir? I've submitted every document the university requested. Nothing in my circumstances has changed."

"The committee identified a discrepancy between the financial information in your original application and the records received during the latest verification process. Until that is resolved, the university cannot continue funding your scholarship."

"But nobody contacted me to clarify anything. I only found out this morning, and now I'm being told my funding has been withdrawn."

"I understand your frustration, Mr Pruitt, but the decision has already been processed. You can submit an appeal with your original financial records and any supporting documents. The committee will review them before deciding whether the withdrawal can be reversed."

"How long will that take?" I asked. "My tuition deadline is approaching, and I can't afford to wait indefinitely."

"The review period depends on the committee's schedule. I cannot reverse the decision without their approval."

I looked down at the notice on my phone. "So I just have to wait?"

"I'm afraid you will need to follow the appeal process."

There wasn't much else to say. I thanked him, collected my things, and left the office with another problem to add to the growing list. 

I still had no idea what discrepancy they were talking about, but I would have to gather my original documents and submit an appeal before the deadline.

My phone vibrated again as I reached the staircase. This time, the message was from my apartment owner.

Urgent meeting in thirty minutes. All tenants are expected to be present.

I frowned at the screen, wondering what could possibly require an urgent meeting with every tenant. I considered calling to ask, but the message didn't include a number to contact, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with another conversation that would probably leave me more confused.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and headed outside. 

By the time I reached my apartment building, I had exactly ten minutes to spare. I parked my bike near the entrance and was about to head inside when the noise coming from the courtyard caught my attention. 

Several tenants had gathered around the landlord, and the atmosphere was far from pleasant. People were shouting over one another while the landlord stood in the middle of them, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"You can't just give us two days' notice!" someone shouted.

I slowed my steps, trying to understand what was happening. Two days' notice for what? I looked around, hoping someone would explain, but everyone seemed too occupied with the argument to notice me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my hands are tied," the landlord pleaded, raising both palms in an attempt to calm the crowd.

"What is going on?" I asked my next-door neighbour, but he barely glanced in my direction before turning back to the landlord.

"How do you expect us to find another place within two days?" another tenant demanded. "Some of us have children, and some of us don't even have enough money to pay for another apartment immediately. You can't expect everyone to pack up and leave just like that!"

My eyes moved between the tenants and the landlord as I tried to piece together their complaints. Two days. Find another place. Pack up and leave.

A cold feeling settled in my stomach as an unpleasant possibility began to take shape in my mind. I pushed through the small crowd and walked straight towards the landlord. The noise around us gradually died down when he noticed me approaching.

"Tell me what I'm thinking is not what is happening," I demanded, looking directly at him.

He avoided my eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "I needed the money, and the house is as good as dead. So you have two days to evacuate and look for someplace else. Just so you know, the ownership is no longer in my name."

I stared at him, waiting for him to say something that would make the situation sound less absurd. He had sold the building? And we were supposed to leave in two days? I couldn't even afford to find another job, let alone pay for a new apartment with the little money I had left.

My scholarship had been withdrawn just this morning, my job was gone, and now I was being told to leave the only place I could afford to call home?!

I tried to think of someone I could call or somewhere I could go, but every possibility seemed to lead to another expense I couldn't manage.

A shaky, nervous, breathy sound left my mouth as my mind violently spun. "I'm doomed."