Chapter 115: before the decision

Chapter 115 — Before the Decision

Isla had been awake long before Roxanne opened her eyes. The desk was covered in neat piles, forms on the left, a calculator on the right, and a page of figures in the middle, written in a hand that grew smaller and tighter toward the bottom.

Roxanne said nothing. She dressed quietly and walked to breakfast beside her, and when Isla pushed a bowl of porridge around without eating a spoonful of it, Roxanne simply moved the honey closer and let her be.

"I’ve worked out what it costs to stay," Isla said at last, tapping the table with one finger. "The full fees, the boarding, the books. And what I could earn if I took a position in the library kitchens. It doesn’t cover everything. But it covers more than I thought."

"That sounds like progress."

"Does my plan sound ridiculous?"

Roxanne considered it honestly. "It sounds like a plan that needs answers. Not permission to exist."

Isla laughed, a nervous, hiccuping sound, and some of the stiffness left her shoulders. Then her face fell again. "I’m afraid they’ve already decided. That I’m coming home, and this is just me being difficult."

"Then you’ll find out today."

"Yes." Isla looked down at the porridge. "I suppose I will."

The afternoon dragged. They sat through Pack Law and then Strategy, and Isla did her best to look like a girl with nothing on her mind. She copied notes carefully and nodded at the right moments. But every few minutes her eyes slid to the clock above the lecturer’s head, and Roxanne watched her lips move as she counted down the hours to the call she had arranged for five.

When the bell rang, Roxanne gathered her books. "Tessa’s getting a late meal in the dining hall. Come with us. It’ll take your mind off it."

"I can’t." Isla hugged her notebook to her chest. "I want somewhere quiet before the call. I need to think."

Last week, Roxanne would have felt the refusal like a slap. Now she only nodded. "All right."

"You’re not offended?"

"No. I’d want the same."

Isla smiled, small and grateful. Roxanne hesitated a moment longer. "Whatever they say, you don’t have to decide everything tonight."

"I might have to decide what I’m willing to fight for," said Isla.

She walked away down the corridor, straight-backed, her notebook clutched in both arms. Roxanne watched her go and kept her hands firmly at her sides.

---

The study room on the third floor was no bigger than a cupboard. It held a table, two chairs, and a window that looked out over the dark rooftops. Isla set her papers in a row and propped her phone against a stack of books. At five o’clock exactly, it rang.

Her mother’s face filled the screen, with her father leaning in beside her. They were both in the kitchen at home, and Isla could see the yellow curtains behind them, the same ones she had grown up beside. Her mother looked tired. Her father looked older than he had at the end of summer.

"Hello, sweetheart," her mother said.

"Hello, Mum. Dad."

They told her first. Isla had braced herself for it and still found it hard to hear. The business had a bad season, then a worse one. Two suppliers had stopped extending credit. They had been juggling the accounts for months and had run out of ways to move the numbers. They needed everyone at home who could help, and that included her.

"We need you, love," her father said gently. "Just for a while. Until we’re steady."

Isla listened to every word without interrupting. Then she took a breath and laid out the papers one by one. She told them about the hardship fund and the campus positions and the review committee. She read out the budget she had drawn up that morning, line by line. Her voice shook at first and then steadied.

Her parents listened, too. They weren’t cruel. They were worn thin, frightened, and sure that bringing their daughter home was the safest choice.

"Isla," her father said, "do you understand how difficult things have become?"

"I do." She met his eyes through the screen. "I know things are bad. I’m not pretending they aren’t. But I want you to let me try before we decide I have to leave."

Her mother sighed. "Trying doesn’t guarantee we can afford it."

"No. But deciding I can’t before I’ve tried guarantees I won’t."

The silence that followed was long. Her mother looked at her father. Her father rubbed his forehead with a rough hand.

"We’ll talk about it," he said finally. "Properly. Not on a screen. Come home for the weekend, and we’ll sit down together and decide."

"That’s fair," Isla said. She did not trust her voice to say anything more.

---

Roxanne was waiting at the end of the corridor, sitting on a window ledge with a book she hadn’t turned a page of. She was not there because she had eavesdropped. She had stayed because Isla had asked her to, that morning, in a voice so small that Roxanne had agreed before she thought.

Isla came down the corridor and stopped in front of her. Her eyes were red.

"They haven’t agreed," she said. "But they haven’t refused, either. They want me to come home this weekend, and talk it through as a family."

Roxanne’s mind began to move at once. The academy had endowments, did it not? A Moonstone could ask a favour, or a word could be had with the Headmaster. There were people with money and influence who owed her small kindnesses, and she could mention it quietly, and in a day the whole thing might be—

She stopped. The thought hung there, half formed. This was Isla’s family. Isla had not asked her to solve anything.

"What do you want to do next?" she asked instead.

Isla looked at her, surprised. Then she straightened. "I want to go home for the discussion. But I’m taking my plan with me."

"That sounds right."

"Does it?"

"It sounds like yours."

---

Back in the dorm, they moved around each other in the easy, slightly clumsy way of people who shared a small space. Roxanne lit the lamp and hung up her coat. Isla sorted her papers into a folder and wrote *Home Weekend* on the front in careful capitals.

"Thank you," Isla said, without looking up.

"For what?"

"For not turning it into a rescue mission."

Roxanne laughed softly. "I almost did."

"I thought you might."

"I had a whole speech planned. Influential people. Endowments. A very stern letter."

"I know." Isla turned, and her smile was crooked and fond. "I know you mean well. I do. But I need my friend more than I need someone making my decisions for me."

Roxanne took it without flinching. She felt a small, honest ache, and she let it settle, and then she nodded. "That’s a better arrangement for both of us."

"Much."

They sat in comfortable quiet for a while, Roxanne reading, Isla ticking items off a list. Outside, the wind rattled the window frame. It was a good silence, the kind that does not need to be filled.

---

The email arrived just after nine.

Isla opened it on her laptop, and Roxanne saw her shoulders tighten. It was from Mrs. Harcourt. The application for assistance could not proceed until Isla submitted additional financial documentation, along with written confirmation of what her family could contribute toward the remaining costs. The deadline was Friday.

"Friday," Isla said. "I thought I had until the end of the month."

"Can you gather it by then?"

"I’m going home on Saturday." Isla stared at the screen. "The family meeting is after the deadline. I’d need my parents’ documents before I even talk to them."

She read the email again, then closed it. For a moment she simply sat with her hands in her lap. Roxanne held herself very still and said nothing. Then Isla opened a blank document, typed a heading, and began a list.

*Questions for Mum and Dad.*

She wasn’t giving up. But for the first time, she understood that wanting to stay and being able to stay were two different problems.

She turned in her chair. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"If I have to leave Moonstone, will you still be my friend when I’m not here every day?"

Roxanne’s expression softened. "You’d have to try much harder than moving away to get rid of me."

Isla smiled, but her eyes stayed worried as she turned back to the unfinished application.