The notice, plastered to the brick wall of the student union, felt slick with cheap ink. Maya’s stomach clenched. Tuition had been paid, rent for the shoebox apartment already settled. Closing? What about the classes, the degree she was promised? A spike of heat flared in her chest. She pictured the small fortune she'd amassed babysitting, tutoring, and selling old textbooks. That money was *hers*. She’d squirreled it away, planning for… well, for *her*. The thought of refunds, shared amongst everyone, felt like a personal assault.
The bursar’s office was chaos. Students milled, voices raised, a panicked buzz filling the air. Maya pushed her way to the front, hands balled into fists. "What about my scholarship?" she demanded, her voice tight. "The money… what happens to the money?" The bursar, a harried woman with dark circles under her eyes, simply sighed.
"We're working on it," she said, her voice flat. Maya glared, her jaw muscles working. "Working on it isn't good enough. I need answers. Now." She felt a possessive weight in her chest. Everything had to be just right, everything had to be accounted for, to the penny. The thought of losing even a single cent sent a chill down her spine.