Paying for College - The Novel Read online

  Part of me wished I had only dreamed of breaking into Mike’s garage, but right here, the proof was lying in the middle of the towel in the sink. I counted $1,225 in bills with $1.75 in change. I raised my eyebrow. One part of my mind was amazed to see some serious cash. Brothers, it would have taken two-hundred hours of back breaking work at the fast food restaurant to earn that kind of money. Then somewhere from the deep depths of my mind, my subconscious screamed, Jax, you’re wrong. Return this money. This money does not belong to you.

  I shook my head. Then I returned the money to my jeans and returned to the room. I studied my sleeping roommate as a rhythmic zzzzZZZZ came from his mouth while his chest rose and fell.

  I pulled out my dirtiest underwear from my laundry bag and wrapped a thousand dollars in it and pushed it to the bottom of the laundry bag.

  I knew my roommate was crazy and would do almost anything, but I thought he would leave my dirty underwear alone, or at least I hoped he would. But who knows what this guy does when I’m not around. I don’t want to even think about it.

  I showered and dressed and headed out. My stomach grumbled, so I headed to the empty cafeteria to grab a plate of food. Most students slept in as they recovered from a binge night of drinking and partying.

  I looked at the same selection of food that the cafeteria served every day at the buffet counter – stacks of toasted white bread, scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, and sausage. I grabbed a little of everything and sat down at an empty dining room table.

  I tired of the same food selection and decided to experiment and mix up my routine a little. I dumped ketchup onto one slice of bread and dabbed a thick lather of mayonnaise on the other. Then I scrapped my scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns on one slice and folded the slices closed. I knew the ketchup and mayonnaise would glue everything together. Plus, the food tasted a little better, a little more palatable.

  I returned to my dorm room and grabbed the clothes I wore last night and threw them into a disposable plastic bag.

  I heard the bed springs rattle as my sleeping roommate turned his face towards the wall.

  I walked to the dormitories on the other side of campus. Then I walked behind the large building and approached the row of dumpsters in back surrounded by a wooden fence. I looked left and then right. No one was around. I lifted the dumpster lid and tossed my bag of old clothes into the trash and walked away.

  I was bored and walked around campus for a while through the familiar halls in the business building, where every day I attend a lecture or two.

  Oh brothers, my stomach started twisting and squeezing. Then I hiccupped something foul. I tried to cover my mouth with my hand, but I couldn’t. I dropped to my knees and right before me, my stomach contents blew out while an atomic spew of half-digested breakfast spread across the floor. I don’t know whether it was fate or destiny, but I looked up and read the nameplate on the door – Dean Tremaine. Hhhmmm, I thought. What are the odds that’s the same Dean with whom we shared a budding relationship?

  I rose and ran to the bathroom and scrubbed my mouth and hands under running water in a sink. Then I rinsed my mouth by slurping water from my cupped hands.

  I felt a little better, and walked out the back doors of the business building. I avoided walking past Dean Tremaine’s Office. I wandered towards town along the main street through the row of fraternity houses. No souls roamed around. I began wondering if a horde of zombies had swept through the neighborhood last night and feasted on all the young, inebriated brains.

  I heard some melodious singing. Oh brothers, the music sounded, like sweet medicine to my aching ears, as if the gates of heaven had opened up, and I found an ataraxic refuge. Then I stopped on that sidewalk and saw a tiny church tucked between two fraternity houses, which I never noticed before.

  I ran to the front doors of the church and rushed inside. I found an empty spot in the back row. I stood with the joyous congregation and joined in as we sang the Hymn 10,000 Reasons. Oh brothers, I sang my lungs out and clapped to the beat, “Bless the Lord O my soul…”

  I sang and sang and sang, and clapped, and clapped, and clapped. And the more I sang and clapped, the better I felt. I found my salvation.

  After singing, a church deacon walked along the aisle with an offering bag. As he made it to my row, I grabbed all the money from my jean’s pocket, crumpled it into my hand, and dropped it into that bag.

  That one act lifted the curse on my sore stomach. I felt recharged, as if I were a drained battery left plugged in and charged for the whole night.

  The pastor read a sermon about doing good deeds in a wicked world. Then we sang our last song and kneeled on the floor to pray to Almighty God. After prayer, I rose to my feet and shook the outstretched hands of my neighbors. “God bless,” I said to each one of them, and they returned a blessing to me.

  A neatly dressed man, in the whitest shirt I had ever seen and polished black shoes that sparkled under the incandescent lights, walked towards me. His shoes even matched his black slacks. “Hello, I’m David.”

  “Hello. I’m Jax.” Then I shook his hand.

  “We would like to invite you to our potluck lunch.”

  “That’s great, but I didn’t bring anything.”

  “That’s okay. You’re still invited.”

  The congregation started walking to the exit doors of the church, and we got in line to follow. Walking by the bulletin board, I saw several notices and one caught my eye – Volunteers needed at the Homeless Shelter.

  I stopped to read it.

  David said, “We help feed and house the homeless in the community. We’re always looking for good volunteers.”

  “Perhaps I can volunteer some of my time.”

  “The church appreciates any help.”

  After walking out the front doors of the church, many church members went to their cars to retrieve covered pots and Tupperware containers and place them on the wooden picnic table.

  The pastor called the hungry congregation to order. We stood, bowed our heads, and prayed again, thanking God for the food.

  David said, “Jax, since you’re a visitor, you get to go to the head of the line.”

  I grabbed a plate and cutlery, and walked around the table. I plopped a piece of roasted chicken on my plate, a hill of mashed potatoes drowned in mushroom gravy, corn on the cob, a couple of cookies, and steamed rice.

  I sat down in a lawn chair towards the back. I truly was in heaven and wolfed my food down. David and his two cronies sat next to me. I am sure they always asked the same questions they always ask new visitors to the church.

  “How’s the food?”

  “Delicious,” as I stuffed my mouth with a spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “Are you from around here?”

  “No. I just moved here.”

  “I take it you came here to study at the university.”

  “Of course.”

  David fired a barrage of questions. After dispensing with the pleasantries, he started to ask some interesting questions that he probably doesn’t ask new members.

  “I take it you know Dean Tremaine.”

  “Ugh, of course I know him. I study business, so we run into each other from time to time.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. That’s why I chose to study here. He has transformed the business school into one of the best in this state.”

  “I didn’t know that; but the Dean might not be who you think he is. What if I told you he does dirty business here and there.”

  “No way. I would need proof.”

  “What if I told you he encouraged a wealthy benefactor to build a new football stadium.”

  “That’s great, but I don’t see why that’s a problem?”

  “But he talked the mayor and city council to use eminent domain to seize the land for the stadium.”

  “Okay, but I don’t still see why that’s a problem.”

  “Several homeowners didn�
�t want to sell, but the city seized their land and evicted the homeowners.”

  “Yeah, but the Dean and city government did it for the greater good.”

  “One of the homeowners was a long time member of this church.”

  “Look, I know it’s a sad story. But most people in this community will benefit, especially when thousands of new fans come here and spend their hard-earned money at local businesses.”

  “But she died days later.” David used his hands to form a cross over his heart and added, “God bless her soul.”

  “My condolences. It sounds like an unfortunate event, but I don’t think the Dean killed her.”

  “True. She died of a heart attack.”

  One of David’s companions said, “Tell him about next year’s tuition hike.”

  “What?” I asked.

  David continued, “Oh yeah. The university underestimated the cost of the new stadium. I heard a rumor the university will raise the tuition fifteen percent.”

  “What?”

  “Fifteen percent.”

  I felt my heart drop as if my heart tripped and tumbled down a deep well. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Oh, I thought you said it’s good for the community?’

  “It is. But I didn’t know about the tuition increase.”

  “What? You don’t want to help contribute to economic development of the community? Your tuition dollars at work.”

  “I do, but the tuition is already high.”

  “It’ll be higher next year, unless we do something about it now.”

  “What can we do? We can’t fight the university.”

  “Ah, but we can.”

  “How can we fight the university?”

  “We can’t tell you right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “You need to verify the information for yourself.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “I work for the student newspaper. Just come to my office, and you can read the articles and complaint letters.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll do that.”

  “Then you’ll see the Dean’s an evil person.”

  “I never thought he was evil. I don’t picture him dancing naked in the woods, wearing a goat’s head, and sacrificing animals.”

  “No, but he’s furious with our church.”

  “So what? You made him angry. It’s not like he can retaliate against this church?”

  “He wants to shut our church down.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. The Dean convinced the city to condemn our property and take over it. We’re trying to challenge that.”

  “What’s the point? What does he gain if he closes the church down?”

  “Our church protested against him several times. So he thinks he can drive the opposition away by shutting down our church.”

  “What’s he planning to do with your property?”

  “He’ll divide the land between our two fraternity neighbors. I heard the fraternities will convert our land into a parking lot and tennis courts.”

  “Damn. What a prick.” I raised my hand to my mouth, “Excuse my language.”

  I continued eating my delicious home cooked food and, brothers,. I felt something had pulled me into a cause, but I had no idea how crazy things would become.