Logan Echolls (i_didntdoit) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-02-13 14:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | logan echolls |
Financial Aid Needed (Narrative)
Logan still didn't completely believe Charlie's explanation of the City after his meeting with the detective, but he couldn't find a way out of the City and hadn't been able to find any familiar landmarks, such as the Neptune Grande, Hearst College, hell, he'd even settle for Neptune High at this point.
He couldn't even find a hotel that looked decent and so, when it became late enough that he knew he needed to sleep somewhere other than a park bench, he settled for a hostel. The clientele were strange and the bedrooms, if you could call the tiny closets with a cot bedrooms, were crappy. But Logan managed to sleep all the same, telling himself that he would wake up the next morning and this would all be a dream.
He did wake up the next morning, but there was no sign that he'd dreamed anything. Instead, he opened his eyes to cracked and peeling yellow wallpaper, like something out of the 70s that hadn't aged well, a stained carpet, and a stiff neck from sleeping on the cot.
Logan changed into a clean t-shirt that had thankfully been left in the room. Whether for him or not, he didn't care. Walking around covered in his own blood did not appeal.
He went to check out and handed the clerk his credit card, taking note that his wallet was a lot thinner than he was used to. Instead of 10 platinum cards and a few crisp hundreds, he found two credit cards that he didn't remember having (though they had his name on them), a key card labeled "The City Institute," a student ID for the same institute, a meal plan card again for the same institute, two ten dollar bills, and his driver's license. Well, at least the license looked familiar.
The clerk, a man in his early fifties with graying hair and a kind face handed the card back to him, an expression of sympathy on his features.
"I'm sorry, son, but this card was declined. You must be over your limit."
Logan stared at the man as though he had two heads. Over limit? That couldn't be possible. He grabbed the other card from his wallet and practically threw it at the man.
"Here, try this one."
A few seconds later, the man looked up at him, same sympathetic expression.
"That one was declined too."
"Maybe you just don't know how to read your machine," Logan spat out. "Look, dude, I have a trust fund with a 7 digit value. I have the money to pay for this."
"Well, unless you have another card to try, I'm afraid you don't," the man said kindly. His sympathy was only starting to irk Logan more. "Look, the City usually provides for its new entrants, but perhaps it just hasn't got to you yet. I can't let you stay here another night without paying, but the room's on me for last night."
"Like I would want to stay another night in this hellhole. I'm telling you, man, the money should be on those cards."
The clerk just shook his head.
"You'll have to learn quickly to be nice to those who want to help you in the City. It's the only way you'll get by here. I believe this transaction is finished."
Logan pushed away from the counter, shooting the clerk a glare. He turned and stormed out of the building, slamming the door behind him.
After a few phones calls and talks with supervisors, he discovered that both credit cards-with limits of $500 and $250 were over limit, and past due to boot. Who would have a credit card with limits like that anyway, Logan wondered. What a waste of plastic.
Shouting the Echolls name at the supervisors he talked to didn't seem to get any sort of helpful reaction. Neither did hanging up and trying to contact his accountant, who didn't appear to be reachable in the City.
Logan was about to toss the smartphone that wasn't even really his against a nearby building face when it rang. He turned over the phone and glanced at the caller ID, which read: "The City Institute-Financial Aid Office."
Curiosity won out over annoyance. And besides, this was just one more person he could take out his temper on. Logan answered the phone.
"Hello, is Logan Echolls available?" a perky female voice on the other end of the line asked.
"This is Logan," Logan said, steeling his patience. "Who is this?"
"This is Maryanne from the financial aid office at the City Institute. I'm just calling to confirm your work-study appointment set for this afternoon at 1pm."
"I'm sorry, what? Those two words don't belong in a sentence together," Logan said. Work and study were two things he avoided pretty much like the plague.
"Mr. Echolls, it's imperative that you meet to discuss your work-study assignment. Without it, you won't have access to enough financial support to continue your education, or to cover your room and board."
Logan opened his mouth to argue and then hesitated. Room and board? Well, if he was stuck here for the time being, having some place to stay besides the flea-bitten hostel was appealing. Not to mention that his stomach was already rumbling. Logan fished the meal plan card out of his pocket and turned it over his hands, studying it.
He couldn't come up with any better options at the moment.
"I'll be there. Where is it?"
"In the financial aid office in the City Institute," Maryanne supplied, as though that much should have been obvious.
"Yeah, yeah, but how do I get to the Institute?" Logan asked.
"You could walk, or take a cab, or the subway. Whatever your intended method of travel."
Logan rolled his eyes.
"Yes, but where is the Institute?"
"It's on Institute Way. Some days we're on the East side of town, some days the West. Today we're right across the street from the City Botanical Gardens. It's a nice view, though I'm not sure how long we'll stay here. But as long as you allow yourself plenty of time to arrive at your appointment, there's no excuse for tardiness."
Kidding. She had to be kidding. Logan pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it.
"Well, thanks for nothing," he grumbled and hung up.
Logan pocketed the phone again and looked at the street signs. First St. and Main St. were visible at the nearby intersection. Great. Just great.
Financial aid. Work study. Credit cards with $500 limits. Even without the fire and brimstone, this had to be some sort of hell.