Little Red Riding Hoodlum

Sorbonne University, France. 2023.

A young lady with black hair with a red tip which sprawled around her restless sleeping-face laid on a pillow. The pillow's case, a faded dark blue, clashed with the vibrant green bedspread she's laying on- a mismatch that reflected her turbulent thoughts.

The soft glow of the afternoon sun peeking through the blackout curtains near her bed, casted a warm glow on her freckled face.

Suddenly, the tranquil silence... if it can be called that, was shattered by the shrill beep of her phone, lying inches from her pillow. The loud notification sound from her phone made her eyes flutter open and she gazed round the room wildly in alert before her slender fingers landed on her phone which is plugged directly to a socket near her bed, the charger's wire extending to her bed, making her open to explosive and fire hazard, not that she cares.

Inhaling deeply as if to calm her frantic nerves, she grasped the phone and double tapped the screen twice, then thrice, but it refused to come to life. She sat up right, grabbing and positioning her pillow behind her to support her back. She then forcefully pressed the power button, and the phone came to life.

The light emitted from the phone's screen cast an eerie glow on her freckled face, illuminating her ivory skin with an otherworldly light. She hurriedly swiped the phone's screen downwards and the light reduced. Her black curious eyes scanned it with parted lips and a furrow of her brows until it came to a stop and her brows furrowed more deeply.

"Update on scholarship revision programme?" She muttered, her eyes still scanning the screen of her phone.

"Dean of student affairs..."

She said to no one in particular since she's the only one in the room. Her voice was laced with a mix of annoyance and trepidation. She had been dreading this moment for weeks ever since the rumors of scholarship revision started circulating around campus.

She continued reading the mail she had received before she forcefully pressed the power button of her phone again and flung it to her side before standing up. The body of the mail was brief and to the point, stating that she had to meet with the dean before the end of the day.

She had received no details, no explanations, just a stern command in the form of a cold email. Her mind raced with different thoughts making her release a shaky breath before she stood up. She hurriedly moved to her locker and unlocked it.

Her locker can't really be called a locker since her limited cloth barely filled it. She grabbed a black baseball cap and turned back to her reading table which is near her bed.

Grabbing her tote bag which she had hanged on the back rest of her reading chair, she hurried to her bed, and lowered herself onto the bed with a sense of urgency. Her hand instinctively reached out, stretching towards the familiar shape of her shoe, hidden away beneath her bed for safekeeping.

She grabbed the worn black leather combat boots which looks like it had been through a war, its leather exterior cracked and worn with deep grooves etched into the surface like scars, the entire boot seemed to be held together by sheer willpower and a drop of luck, defying gravity and logic. It looked like a ticking time bomb that will disintegrate the moment someone dared slip their foot inside.

Nevertheless, the raven red head beauty slipped her slim feet inside the boot. After a while, she sat upright, as if contemplating a decision she had made, her eyes fixed on the door.

The room she's in is like a stark testament to contradictions, Its walls like two vastly different worlds. One side was adorned with a soft, gentle pink paint. It was as if the very essence of luxury had been instilled into that particular side.

In stark contrast, the opposite wall where the lady sat, wore a faded chapped yellow, like the peeling skin of a forgotten sun flower. The paint was cracked and worn, revealing glimpses of the dull gray beneath. The room is a poignant reminder that wealth and poverty often coexist in the most unexpected ways.

Another sigh escaped the raven red head beauty before she carried her tote bag and slung it over her shoulder. As she stepped out of her room, a desolate hallway welcomed her. It is nearing evening so most of her hostel mates are either taking a nap in their rooms or attending their last lecture for the day.

She finally stepped out of her dormitory building. The sun was setting over the campus, casting golden glows over the buildings. She quickened her pace as she moved towards a huge building that looks to have existed since medieval times, its tall spires reaching towards the sky like the tip of skeletal fingers.

She ascended the weathered stone stairs and pushed open the door, the creaking of the hinges echoing, alerting a woman sitting behind the desk who seems to be in her late thirties. The woman's eyes narrowed lightly as she took in the raven redhead beauty's disheveled appearance.

"Olivia, you are here for the meeting with the Dean, right?" The woman asked, her voice firm, but not unkind. Her eyes drifted downward, her gaze scanning the cluttered surface of her table with a hint of desperation.

Olivia nodded, quickly stretching out her hand as the woman handed her a clipboard.

"Fill this out please."

She took the clipboard, her hands shaking slightly as she moved towards a set of chair, sat, and began to fill out the form. The question were routine for Olivia -name, student ID number, programme of study- her face assumed a blank expression.

"Olivia."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the receptionist called her name, making her spring to her feet, the clipboard clutched to her chest like a lifeline. She walked towards the receptionist and gave her the clipboard with a thank you.

The receptionist collected the clipboard, signalled to Olivia with her left hand to wait, then grabbed the telephone on her table. After some minutes of exchanging words with the person on the other line, she signalled her to climb up with her hands.

Clenching her teeth tightly, Olivia turned and moved towards the stairs leading to the top and started to climb. After some minute, she reached the dean's office. On the door, the name 'Rachel Thompson' was engraved. She knocked twice even though, the door was open. The dean was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk on a black leather high backed chair that looked too big for her petite frame, her eyes fixed on a black Dell laptop placed on her huge shiny table.

As Olivia walked in, the dean's head jerked up, her eyes locking unto the approaching Olivia. Her glasses perched on the end of her nose slipped slightly askew as she tilted her head. The frames, thin and silver, glint in the light, matching her slightly pale skin.

"Olivia, thank you for coming." She said, her voice warm as she pushed her laptop slightly to her right. "Please, have a seat." She added, pointing to another black chair opposite her.

Olivia had known Mrs Rachel since her first time at Sorbonne and since that time, she'd come to the conclusion that she treats her better than her own mother does.

She sat down with her heart in her throat, and when the dean began to speak, her words hit Olivia like a punch to the guts, leaving her breathless and reeling.

"We've had to revise the school's scholarship terms, especially yours. You will now need to pay 25% of your tuition fees yourself."

Olivia felt like she'd been hit by a truck. 25% of her tuition fees? She knew it was impossible! She couldn't afford it! She can barely afford two meals a day, so what made Sorbonne thinks she can pay 25% of fucking thousands of dollars?!

"What?! No way! That's impossible." She protested, her voice shaking with anger and fear. "I was promised a full scholarship."

Olivia had done everything, risked everything, just for the scholarship, for a better future for herself, but her goddamned university is about to put an end to her promise to herself, her promise of a better future, of an escape.

However, the dean's expression was unyielding. "I understand your concerns, Olivia. But the university is facing financial constraints, we've decided to make adjustments."

Olivia didn't understand if the university made adjustments to her scholarship terms because of a financial constraint or because of her being her. Had a school as prestigious as Sorbonne university fallen on hard financial times or had her own thoughtless words and her being her, somehow reached the wrong ears and led to this sudden reversal of fortune?

"I refuse to accept this." She stated coldly, her voice firm.

Graduating Sorbonne with flying colors is her only hope for a brighter future. Not when she's so close to grasping it.

Mrs Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unyielding as she placed her hand on the desk and intertwined her fingers.

"I am afraid this decision is final, Olivia. You need to accept it and move forward. Now, get out of my office." She added dismissively.

Olivia let out a shaky breath as a wave of desperation washes over her. She knew she couldn't give up now, not when she's so close to reaching the light at the end of her dark tunnel.

Dejected, she stood up, bowed lightly and with a snort, walked out of Mrs Rachel Thompson's office, and slammed the door loudly.