I try to focus on the selection of folders. Rather than flying with cumbersome luggage, I only brought my clothes, intending to shop for my stationery in person, but Christ, why is everything so damn expensive in Thorn Falls? They don’t look any different than the basic folders I would have gotten back home, but they’re ten times the price. Maybe I should shop online. I have a little over a week before school starts; that should be enough time to wait for a delivery.

Not wanting to leave the store completely empty-handed, I select a few pens, pencils, and highlighters, and head to the counter.

I’m right behind Octavia and her uncle. His bill comes to two hundred and fifty bucks, so I take it they must have raided the glitter and shiny gold pens.

I smile as they walk past me, waving at the striking pair, before buying my ten bucks’ worth of pens.

It sucks to have to watch my spending, but I’m used to it.

My grandmother raised me. I’ve never been hungry or worried about having a roof over my head, but she’s only had her tiny retirement plan for the last ten years. There was never much money to go around for extras. Through school, I worked part-time to afford any hobby, and whatever I needed beyond the basics.

I always knew the only way I ever could go to college was on a scholarship, so I’ve always worked my ass off, never missing a day of school, even sick. I got a fair few offers, and the one from Rothford was by far the best: a full ride, plus a grant for extra expenses, which will kick in next week. It covers all my books, my food, plus a bit of extra, but I’ll still need to work to be comfortable.

I have about a thousand bucks to spare now, after paying all my bills and buying my plane ticket here, and I have to make it last, at least until I find a job.

What do I need now? Food for this week, as the dining hall opens next Monday, the folders I’ll order online, and what else?

I’m mentally calculating my expenses when I spot Octavia again, in front of the stationery store. She’s beaming at me, a wrapped box in her hand. She holds it up to me. “Thank you for taking care of me, Claire!”

I stare at her in disbelief, then up to her uncle.

He’s on the phone again, a few steps away, though his eyes aren’t leaving Octavia this time.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, sweetie. It was my pleasure.”

“But you wanted the notebook,” Octavia said. “I could tell. Now you can have it, and we match! Open it! Open it!”

Oh, fuck, I’m a little teary for some reason.