He blinked three times, a record for him, then yawned, “You will need to make a formal appeal to the University, at which time,” he yawned again, “you will have an opportunity to state your case before a tribunal of administrators.” He was now fully awake. People usually were when they were bending you over and going to work with the broom handle.
“Until then,” he admonished, “you will not be allowed to work on campus. You will also be placed on academic probation until your name has been cleared. If the tribunal finds that you are indeed guilty of theft, or if you are caught committing any other crimes on campus, you will be subject to expulsion.”
Gulp. What? Had I heard him right?
Why had I gotten out of bed this morning?
Stupid Tiffany!
Chapter 17
SAMANTHA
The warm spring weather was perfect in contrast to my mood. I sat outside at one of the tables at the Student Center with Madison, Romeo and Kamiko. We were all eating fish tacos for lunch.
“I’m screwed, you guys,” I sighed.
"You say that like it’s a problem,” Romeo quipped. “In my world, getting screwed is the most desirable outcome of any encounter.”
“Even if Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse is the one doing the screwing?” I asked skeptically.
“Now that you mention it, I always suspected that girl had a dick,” Romeo cackled.
“She’s way too much of a bitch to be a man or have a penis,” Kamiko said as she dipped a tortilla chip in her salsa.
“Female dogs everywhere are cringing because we’re comparing them to Tiffany,” Madison giggled.
“Maybe we could compare Tiffany to toxic waste or puppy murderers,” Romeo suggested.
“Don’t kill any puppies!” Kamiko pleaded.
Romeo frowned at her. “How is it that me saying ‘puppy murderers’ means it has actually happened? What, did a puppy somewhere in the world just die because I said it?”
“I don’t know,” Kamiko said sheepishly, “just don’t say it.”
Romeo rolled his eyes, “You’ve been watching way too many cartoons, darling.” He took a bite of his fish taco.
I sipped my iced tea, “What am I going to do, you guys? I can’t even find a math tutoring job. There’s no jobs anywhere right now. And, until my case with Tiffany goes up for review in front of SDU’s academic tribunal, Career Services won’t give me another on-campus job. I’m tainted goods.”
“Have you tried looking for work as a sex slave?” Romeo asked.
“Who wants a tainted sex slave?” Madison joked.
I glared at her, “Thanks a lot, Mads.”
She smiled, “Do you really want to work as a sex slave?”
“If the pay is good, I’ll do anything,” I sighed. “But I already checked the sex slave want ads. All the sex slave masters are looking for someone with experience.”
“Slave experience, or sex experience?” Romeo asked innocently.
“I’m assuming both,” I joked. “Most of the ads mentioned ball gag and whip experience. I’ve never used either.”
“If you need any pointers,” Romeo said, “let me know.”
“Yeah, Sam,” Kamiko smiled, “if you need practice whipping someone’s ass, I can demonstrate for you on Romeo.”
“Is it just me,” Romeo smirked, “or would Kamiko make a good dominatrix?”
I looked at Kamiko, who had her hands in her lap while leaning over her drink cup, which was sitting on the table, while she sucked on her drink straw. She looked like a little kid. The only thing missing was a twirly crazy straw. I said, “Maybe a cartoon dominatrix.”
“Butter lettuce?” Romeo said to Kamiko suggestively, like he was trying to seduce her. “Locally grown?”
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
Neither was Madison.
“You mean the butter lettuce party?” Kamiko asked. “Those weren’t dominatrices. Those were male stripper unicorns.”
“DominatriCEES?” Romeo enunciated forcefully. “When did you become Ms. Dictionary, Kamiko?” Romeo asked skeptically, as if Kamiko’s word pronunciation was weirder than male stripper unicorns.
I was so lost.
“Yes,” Kamiko said, “dominatrices is the primary spelling for the plural version of the word.”
Madison frowned at me, “What are they talking about?”
I shook my head, “Cartoons? The dictionary? I have no idea. My friends are insane.”
“Butter lettuce party from Bravest Warriors?!” Kamiko suggested with maximum frustration. “Episode three?! Season one?!” She slapped the table top for emphasis. “Don’t you guys watch the internet?!”
“Yeah,” Romeo glared at me and Madison sarcastically, “Duh!”
“Mads,” I said, “I can’t decide who is more cray cray. Them or us.”
“I’m just eating my fish tacos,” she giggled. “I don’t know any of you.”
I plugged my debit card into one of the ATMs on campus near the Student Center. I needed to check how much cash I had left in my account because my monthly tuition payment was barreling toward me at the speed of light. I was going to owe more than $5,000 to SDU in a few short weeks.
After I entered my PIN, I pressed Check Your Balance. Instead of a number, the ATM machine laughed at me and told me to get a job. I’m surprised it didn’t shred my card and flash the words YOU’RE BROKE repeatedly.
There were people waiting behind me in line to use the ATM, so I canceled out and took my card.
Where the hell was I going to find five grand? I had combed through the job search websites with a microscope and hadn’t found anything yet. Maybe I needed to go back to Grab-n-Dash and beg for my job? A scent memory of hot dogs and urine colored polyester wrinkled my nose.
Maybe not.
Short of selling a kidney or other parts of my body to the highest bidder, the only other thing that occurred to me was checking online for scholarships.
I walked to the Main Library and set up my laptop near a window on the seventh floor. I sighed as I logged onto the library’s wi-fi network and searched through scholarship websites. It didn’t take long to realize that most of the application deadlines had already passed. Not that it mattered. Most of them didn’t pay any money until the fall.
I sat back in my chair and sighed. I glanced out at the amazing view of San Diego. I’d always loved the Main Library’s wrap around windows. From the seventh floor where I sat, you could see for miles.
Usually, the view lifted my spirits. Too bad nothing short of a construction crane could lift my spirits today.
I sighed and went back to my job hunt. Trying to remain optimistic, I narrowed my internet search by application deadline. There weren’t many scholarships left on the list.
I found one for bagpipe majors. It paid seven thousand bucks! Bagpipes couldn’t be too hard to play, could they? I would totally double major in bagpipes if it meant seven grand. The only problem was I couldn’t even afford a set of bagpipes. Even if I could, I wouldn’t be surprised if Christos or Spiridon kicked me out of the house for taking up the fartbags. But I would play them every damn day if it meant $7,000. Crap. Who was I kidding? I don’t think I could deal with all that quacking.
Next.
There was one scholarship for people studying the Klingon language. I’d watched Star Trek. Didn’t Klingons just grunt? I could grunt.
There was also one for the American Nudist Research Library. No, seriously. I read it on the internet. What did nudist researchers research, anyway? Increased incidences of skin cancer among the nude? Early onset droopage, for both men and women? Because you know drooping was the biggest problem faced by nudists. I seriously would’ve applied if it wasn’t for the fact you had to live in a nudist colony to qualify. I didn’t even know where to find a nudist colony, unless you counted art models. Hey! Maybe with all the girls coming to Christos’ studio every day, the Manos house qualified! I was totally submitting an application.