C4 Surprise scholarship

“Mom, I’m home,” Gerald announced as he poked his head in, carrying an empty stockpot. The door swung inward, then snapped off at the hinges, collapsing loudly to the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix that,” he promised as he set down the pot and examined his robes. “Today was a good day,” he boasted. “I managed to limit myself to a mere two stains, coffee tossed by Ms. Donaldson and a thrown peach from a passing motorist... oh, and I got attacked by a raccoon.”

Gerald stopped when he noticed something strange. Some of the drawers and cupboards were not as he had left them, bits of contents strewn about as if in haste. The pile of mail on the scratched-up dining room table had been rummaged through. No sounds of synthetic combat came from upstairs.

“Mom?” he said, nearly shouting this time as he looked about. He could feel his hands growing cold and clammy as he forced himself to step forward into the family room.

“MOM!” he called out one last time, his voice cracking as he reached for the bent scented candle holder on the coffee table.

There was a sharp crack from behind and he jumped. Raising up the improvised weapon, he held it over his head.

“What are you doing, Geri?” his mother asked as she stood there in his bedroom doorway. “You gonna bean me with pumpkin spice?”

“Oh, you’re all right,” he said, relieved, lowering his arms.

“Better than all right,” she giggled, clapping her hands. Her face was filthy and crusted with grime. “I feel better than I have in eighteen years.” At his feet she dropped a worn suitcase, a bit of torn underwear poking out from one side.

“You always say ‘happy birthday’ in the most creative ways,” he said, setting down the candle holder. Something occurred to him and he looked about. “You’re not wearing your helmet. Who’s playing your character?”

“Oh, I gave one of my friends the passwords, he’s got her on auto-follow for me until my instance cooldown is over,” she gushed as she waddled over to the dinner table.

“That’s really dangerous, mom, you shouldn’t give anyone your security codes,” he warned, examining the bulging suitcase.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. The way I feel right now I could reroll a new class tomorrow from scratch.”

Gerald bit his lip and scratched his ear as he looked around furtively. “Am I being kicked out?”

“Even better,” she sang, shoving something into his hand.

“Well, gee, what could be better than being tossed out on the street the day I turn eighteen?” he wondered aloud as he held up the clear tablet of plastic. Illuminated letters rolled across it in various languages.

“It came special delivery about an hour ago,” she explained. “It finally happened.”

“What happened?” he asked, scrolling through various photos of smiling alien students in smart looking uniforms.

“My chance at freedom,” she said, raising her flabby arms up triumphantly. “No more babysitting for me. I’m gonna be a free woman again. You’ve been awarded a full-ride scholarship to Central Exeter Academy.”

Gerald furrowed his brow. “Mom, you shouldn’t fall in for scams. This is why I told you to let me sort the mail from now on.”

“It’s not a scam,” she insisted, licking her dry lips.

“Yeah, like the Akturian Prince thing?”

“This is different, I already called in and confirmed it.”

“It can’t be real,” he said, rotating the tablet suspiciously in his grip, as pictures of pristine campus and polished marble buildings streamed across. “Central Exeter is like, one of those law schools the kids of senators and royalty go to. They don’t give out scholarships and even if they did, they wouldn’t give one to someone like me. I never even finished grade school.”

Gerald was cut off by two grimy hands digging into the skin of his forearm. “Don’t ruin this for me, boy,” she warned, tightening her grip. “Do you know how many repair bills I have to pay every month thanks to you?”

“Of course I know, I’m the one who pays them.”

The tablet shorted out in his hand and went dark, releasing a little puff of smoke.

“Even if I wanted to, it’s a terrible idea,” he defended, tossing the broken tablet onto the couch. “You put me on a star-cruiser and we’ll crash right into a star or something.”

“One can only hope,” she grumbled.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

Gerald sat down on the legless couch, the spring of a snapping spring coming from within. He sat there quietly for several moments, pulling anxiously at the prayer beads around his neck. His mother’s expression softened and she sat down next to him.

“Look, Muffin, if it makes it easier, don’t do this for yourself, do it for us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

She nodded and placed her head on his shoulder as if she were a little kid. “I had a chance to read the whole thing. It includes transport costs, living expenses, clothes, books, everything. You even get discretionary funds. Fun money to use in the evenings however you want.”

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm, you could give it to me.”

“I knew it,” he said, leaning forward. “All you want out of this is more money to spend on that stupid game.”

Her mouth opened up as if she had just been slapped. “It’s not stupid. It’s True Life. This... this all around us,” she said, pointing about to the decaying room. “THIS is the stupid. If real life is a game, then it is a crappy game, and I refuse to play it.”

Her helmet resting of the torn armchair chimed and she walked over and put it on.

“Hey guys, it’s Shido,” Mary said, snapping on the chin-strap. “No, he’s still here.... I know, right? Anyway, I want to talk to you guys about starting our own Guild. See, I don’t think Faulks realizes what he has done by...”

Gerald closed his eyes and tuned it out. Being angry or sad would change nothing, so he recited the seventh scroll to himself instead.

He had read about the other worlds in the Alliance, of course, at least until the local library closed down a few years back. But to someone who had never traveled outside of Utah, they felt terrifyingly far away. Every time he thought about the crowded cities of the core planets, just the very thought of something that large just about scared him to death.

The sun was setting in the west, melting down over the tips of the mountains like a pat of butter. It bathed the room in the amber glow of twilight. He thought about all those that the light touched. Thousands of people scattered throughout the valley, who, come the end of the month, would have no one to care for them. He decided that his fear would not control him.

“How much?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Wha?” she asked, tipping up her visor.

“How much is the discretionary fund?”

She grinned, revealing a mouth full of brown teeth. “A thousand credits a day.”

His eyes grew like saucers. “You’re kidding? That’s more than we make in a...”

“I know,” she giggled.

He paused for a moment and made his decision. “I’ll do it.”