Pilates junk his wife was obsessed with.
Working out was helping. The more he exercised, the more he became convinced Amelia would come around to see things his way. One hundred thousand dollars for a scholarship kid from foster homes in Indiana?
That was like winning the lottery; no sane person would turn it down.
Everything would be fine.
He got up from the bench and moved to the treadmill, pointing the remote to turn on the flat screen television on the wall as he dialed the treadmill up to a healthy running pace. He began trotting and smiled at a clever Volkswagen advertisement. What a great rebranding campaign that company had pulled off, he thought.
When the commercial break ended, a news anchor for CNBC appeared.
“Folks, we’ve got breaking news. Internet accusations claim that Gibly, the Silicon Valley company in the process of finalizing its sale to Lloyd’s for 3.8 billion dollars, has spent the past several years stealing users’ private information. Everything from your whereabouts to purchases to your ATM’s PIN have been tracked. We’re going now to our tech correspondent Christian Johnson for the latest. Christian, what can you tell us about these stunning allegations?”
Ted pulled the emergency stop break on the treadmill and stared at the television, though he could no longer hear a word they were saying. Just then, his cell phone and the house phone started to ring. He took a deep breath and composed himself. That little nerd didn’t know what was about to hit her.
Chapter XVI
Homeless
A dam raced up the stairs of the Gates Building, clenching a letter tightly in his hand, his head whirring with panic. He’d only been in this building twice before; once when Amelia had fainted—she’d been holed up coding something and had forgotten to eat for more than twenty-four hours and Adam’s name had been first on her speed dial—and another time to smuggle out the old monitor he kept assuring Amelia he would return any day now.
He didn’t like the building. It was too sterile and clean and the blue light and the just-barely-audible buzz of all the computers made him anxious.
Plus, all the people there were such dweebs. Not that he was the emperor of cool, but at least he knew where he fell short; these people had created an environment where social weirdness was totally acceptable. Like, it was fine to stare at a machine and not shower for three days because the guy next to you hadn’t either. It wasn’t fine; it was weird.
But he knew Amelia would be there and he had to talk to her about the letter he’d just gotten.
He found her on the third floor, at a cubicle near the window, wearing headphones and deeply engrossed in whatever she was typing.
He walked up behind her and shook her shoulder.
“Amelia, we’ve gotta talk.”
“Just a sec.” She hardly acknowledged him, still absorbed in whatever was on her computer.
He pulled off her headphones a little too forcefully. “No. Now!”
“Geez, Adam. What is it?”
“They’re taking away our scholarships.”
“What are you talking about?”
He threw the letter down in front of her. “Our scholarships: our tuition money, our room and board, our monthly stipend. They’re taking it away.
All of it. The letter says the University is cutting back on aid next year and we no longer qualify. Do you think they found out?”
“What more could they find out? We were totally honest about everything that happened when we applied.”
“How else could we no longer qualify?” Adam felt his voice shaking.
“We’re, like, the poorest people on this campus. Amelia, we have nothing to our names.”
Amelia was looking down at her hands and was silent.
“Hello? Amelia? Are you listening?” Why did she not get the gravity of this? Then it dawned on Adam what she was thinking. “You don’t think it was Tom Fenway do you?” he said. “Do you think he’s blackmailing you to take the job? Oh my God! Do you think that’s
Working out was helping. The more he exercised, the more he became convinced Amelia would come around to see things his way. One hundred thousand dollars for a scholarship kid from foster homes in Indiana?
That was like winning the lottery; no sane person would turn it down.
Everything would be fine.
He got up from the bench and moved to the treadmill, pointing the remote to turn on the flat screen television on the wall as he dialed the treadmill up to a healthy running pace. He began trotting and smiled at a clever Volkswagen advertisement. What a great rebranding campaign that company had pulled off, he thought.
When the commercial break ended, a news anchor for CNBC appeared.
“Folks, we’ve got breaking news. Internet accusations claim that Gibly, the Silicon Valley company in the process of finalizing its sale to Lloyd’s for 3.8 billion dollars, has spent the past several years stealing users’ private information. Everything from your whereabouts to purchases to your ATM’s PIN have been tracked. We’re going now to our tech correspondent Christian Johnson for the latest. Christian, what can you tell us about these stunning allegations?”
Ted pulled the emergency stop break on the treadmill and stared at the television, though he could no longer hear a word they were saying. Just then, his cell phone and the house phone started to ring. He took a deep breath and composed himself. That little nerd didn’t know what was about to hit her.
Chapter XVI
Homeless
A dam raced up the stairs of the Gates Building, clenching a letter tightly in his hand, his head whirring with panic. He’d only been in this building twice before; once when Amelia had fainted—she’d been holed up coding something and had forgotten to eat for more than twenty-four hours and Adam’s name had been first on her speed dial—and another time to smuggle out the old monitor he kept assuring Amelia he would return any day now.
He didn’t like the building. It was too sterile and clean and the blue light and the just-barely-audible buzz of all the computers made him anxious.
Plus, all the people there were such dweebs. Not that he was the emperor of cool, but at least he knew where he fell short; these people had created an environment where social weirdness was totally acceptable. Like, it was fine to stare at a machine and not shower for three days because the guy next to you hadn’t either. It wasn’t fine; it was weird.
But he knew Amelia would be there and he had to talk to her about the letter he’d just gotten.
He found her on the third floor, at a cubicle near the window, wearing headphones and deeply engrossed in whatever she was typing.
He walked up behind her and shook her shoulder.
“Amelia, we’ve gotta talk.”
“Just a sec.” She hardly acknowledged him, still absorbed in whatever was on her computer.
He pulled off her headphones a little too forcefully. “No. Now!”
“Geez, Adam. What is it?”
“They’re taking away our scholarships.”
“What are you talking about?”
He threw the letter down in front of her. “Our scholarships: our tuition money, our room and board, our monthly stipend. They’re taking it away.
All of it. The letter says the University is cutting back on aid next year and we no longer qualify. Do you think they found out?”
“What more could they find out? We were totally honest about everything that happened when we applied.”
“How else could we no longer qualify?” Adam felt his voice shaking.
“We’re, like, the poorest people on this campus. Amelia, we have nothing to our names.”
Amelia was looking down at her hands and was silent.
“Hello? Amelia? Are you listening?” Why did she not get the gravity of this? Then it dawned on Adam what she was thinking. “You don’t think it was Tom Fenway do you?” he said. “Do you think he’s blackmailing you to take the job? Oh my God! Do you think that’s
Similar Books
