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“What is your name?”
“Payton Hart.”
I hear her hands typing on her computer. Then she nods to herself.
“Oh. You’re the student with the unanswered dunning emails.”
The student.
As in one.
Guess that’s the bad thing about small, private universities. When shit happens, there’s not really company for the misery. Only an audience.
“We tried to call you,” she continues, “but it says your line was disconnected, and they couldn’t get in touch with you.”
“I didn’t get a call.”
“Like I said, normally, the registrar would call you, but they couldn’t get in touch with you.”
“But—”
I shake my head. There’s no use in arguing. In fact, it only seems to make the stern lines of her face deepen. Does everyone hate me at this school?
I reach into my bag, pull out my phone, and scroll through the contacts, hitting the button for Heather’s number.
The phone doesn’t ring.
The phone doesn’t do anything.
What the hell?
My phone has no service. It’s as if the number has been shut off, but that makes no sense. The bills are on autopay. I used it to scroll through Dog Instagram this morning. It’s functioning. It’s on. It just has no service.
How can that be?
How long has it been since I accepted a call?
The only person who ever called me or texts me off a messenger app is Erin, and I just assumed she preferred to duke it out face-to-face.
The registrar lady nods. “Forget to pay your bill?”
I never paid my bill—didn’t even know when it was due.
My sister does. No, not my sister.
Ronald.
He pays my bills.
This is the first time since he disappeared that there’s been a problem. Erin told me that while he was in jail, before his death, his lawyer took care of everything.
Trent.
The name ping-pongs inside me, rage building with it. He’s the one in charge. Maybe it’s a simple mistake. Or maybe I’m a dumbass with a penchant for underestimating assholes. Either way, I’d rather double-check with Mr. Baker to see if he can help straighten things out for me before approaching the devil himself.
I need to call Mr. Baker.
It feels like I’m floating up above myself, but the woman in front of me is still talking. Only a few words flood through my brain.
