From my brain to this blog part 2

The post is following the creative exercise,  started and hosted by Brooke Bluestocking Guide. The first part you can find clicking here. Feel free to comment and join in, writing a short story which begins like this:


That’s what happens when you follow your heart...

At that time I studied at a uni and so my income was erratic to say the least of it. I survived mainly on allowances from my parents and a performance grant. Let me explain it a bit - in order to qualify for a performance grant you had to get high scores in all your exams and you was reassessed after every semester. The higher you scored the more money you got – it was thought to be a kind of incentive to study hard and be diligent. My parents encouraged me to try to score as high as possible; after all the money I could get were almost equal to an average salary of a young person working full time. It did make sense; I went to university to study not to work so if I could additionally get paid for it, there it was, a win-win situation, the best that can be.

Only it wasn’t the best for me any longer. I wanted badly my luxury shoes which came with a luxury price tag and I didn’t even qualify for a loan. Who could guarantee whether or not I will be awarded the grant in the next semester? Perhaps a psychic. The shop manager didn’t believe in psychic powers, though; he pondered over my problem for a while and decided that I wasn’t trustworthy and solvent enough. He could only promise that my pair of shoes would be waiting for me two months at the back of the shop: either I manage to earn/steal/beg/wheedle/whatever the necessary sum of money or not. The choice was mine. It was kind of him but not too kind. Apparently I weren’t able to charm him sufficiently well. I must admit charming middle-aged men in shops had never been my strong suit. I wasn’t attractive, I wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t cheeky or funny or dashing. As you see I did need those shoes.

 

I returned to my hall of residence with a bad financial headache. I had some money put aside but not nearly enough to cover one third of the grand total. I could go and ask my parents but it was a loathsome option. I didn’t want them to know about my strange desire which, let’s be honest, bordered with a folly and was hardly sensible. Like most parents, my mom and dad would instantly draw some far-fetched conclusions like: somebody evil (no doubt a boyfriend or even worse, a foreign boyfriend) is touching her for money or she is pregnant and wants to abort or she’s found a foreign boyfriend (the second one) and wants to go with him clandestinely to some barbarian Arabic country (and yes, she will be forced to convert and marry him and she will be abused, beaten and kept imprisoned forever and she will never be allowed to contact us again…you know the drift). The longer I thought about it the less I liked the implications. No parents involved, full stop.

What about friends? I did know one rich student who owed me some favours and would be able to lend me the sum I wanted but still she would also grill me what I needed it for. I didn’t want to tell her about my shoes. She might have played me a dirty trick, buying them and preening herself on wearing them. Oh well, trying didn’t hurt and I didn’t need to be totally honest with her either. It was enough to think up a good cover story.

Finally of course I could look for a part-time job or any odd jobs available around but I was adamant about one thing - my marks and grades at the Uni couldn't suffer as a result. Losing my grant would be very painful indeed so I wasn't prepared to take too great risks.