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Emma held the letter from the financial aid office to her chest, careful not to crinkle it up, though she wanted to squeeze it tight and squeal. She had to keep it nice and crisp, though, because she absolutely had to shove it in Snake and Spike’s faces.
After the initial shock and excitement of their teenage daughter getting married to Degrassi’s most turbulent dude, Spike and Snake both seemed to have something of an awakening. The conversation had gone a bit like this:
“Emma, are you really sure you’ve thought this through?” Spike had her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against her kitchen counter.
“We’ve gone over this, mom!” Emma had replied, rolling her eyes as she licked another spoonful of pudding from her bowl. “I love him and he loves me. What else matters?”
(Jack, her little brother, started to whine about her bowl being bigger than his).
“Your finances matter,” Snake interjected, leaning forward across the table. “Your tuition matters.”
Emma’s face did fall a little as the metal spoon hung between her lips. Spike and Snake had agreed to help her pay for classes, hadn’t they? And there were student loans. What were they getting at? She pushed the rest of her bowl of pudding toward her brother.
“If you’re a married woman with your own family, then you have to grow up and act like it,” Spike continued. “We can’t bail you out like we used to. Your problems aren’t shared with us, they’re shared with him.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?” Emma asked. “I mean, what difference does it make to you whether I live at home or on campus or with my husband?”
“The difference is that you’re married now,” Spike said. “You have to learn to figure things out with your husband. We can’t carry you through your marriage.”
Emma scoffed.
“Besides, even if we gave you the exact same help as we were planning to from the beginning,” Snake continued, “which we’re not, you still have more expenses. You have to contribute to the rent, the groceries… You have more financial responsibilities now and you can’t expect us to pick up the slack.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Emma said vaguely, with a tone of determination, even though she realistically had no plan. It hadn’t really occurred to her that deciding to get married and live with Spinner would get her cut off from her parents’ support, but she’d have to act like it didn’t bother her, that she wasn’t worried. She didn’t need them doubting her decisions.
That afternoon, she marched herself to the financial aid office of the university and filled out every form that could possibly apply to her situation. Scholarships and assistance for poor students, for children of single parents, for good GPA (which was a stretch, but still), for volunteers, for family members of cancer survivors, for first generation college attendees, for married students…
And it was truly a combination of factors that did it. Because she had no generational wealth to rely on, because the only income her household could report was what Spinner made at The Dot, because she was married, and no longer her mother’s dependent, the financial aid office had practically covered all of her tuition. And the letter Emma held to her chest was proof of that.
She rode her bike through the streets of Toronto, winding through suburbs, until she reached her mother’s townhouse. She removed her helmet, bounded up the stairs, and unlocked the door with her copy of the key. “Mom!” she called, sing-songy and arrogant.
Spike rounded the corner, plastic gloves on and foils glimmer in her hair. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the letter that Emma had pulled from her back pocket.
“My scholarship letter. My tuition is fully covered.”
Spike flung her gloves off and snatched the letter. “Oh my god!”
Snake emerged from the basement, where Emma would later learn he was boxing up her stuff to send to Spinner’s loft, and said, “What’s the ruckus?”
“Emma has a full-ride!” Spike said, handing Snake the letter.
“Not really,” said Emma. “I just qualified for enough different scholarships and financial assistance to cover all of it.” She was not good at pretending to be humble, though. She was beaming with pride. Not because she felt good about deserving the tuition money, but because she was proving them wrong every day that she and Spinner thrived.
“Does this cover books?” Snake asked, looking up from the letter, which it seemed he’d read and re-read several times.
Emma’s stomach dropped. She’d forgotten about the books. The stupid five hundred dollar text books. “Um, no,” she said. “I’m still working on that,” she lied.
“Well, this is excellent,” said Snake. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve been more resourceful than we’ve given you credit for.”
“Yeah, honey,” her mother agreed, wrapping her arms around her, but not hugging too tightly, careful not to get any stray dye on Emma’s blond hair. “You’re really growing up!”
Emma started wringing her hands as she paced the loft apartment that night. Spinner would be home any minute and she wished she could be excited to share the news of her tuition being covered next semester, but that was really only half the battle. She knew she’d have to tell him about the text books, too. She’d looked at the budget with him, she had helped make the spreadsheet. She knew there wasn’t an extra thousand dollars lying around anywhere.
The front door clicked open and Spinner walked in, rubbing his neck like he’d had a long, hard day. He immediately started to shed his work uniform.
“Bad day?” Emma guessed.
“Better now,” Spinner said, giving her that crooked grin as he tossed his black The Dot t-shirt into the hamper at the base of the stairs.
“Don’t be so sure,” she said, handing him the letter.
Spinner took it, eyes furrowed as he scanned it over. “I don’t get it,” he said. “This looks like good news?”
Emma sighed. “It is good news, but I… I still need like a thousand dollars for textbooks.”
“What the hell kind of books cost that much?”
“College textbooks, apparently,” Emma replied, flopping onto their couch and holding up the list of books she needed on another piece of paper. “I need some quick cash.”
Spinner grabbed the other paper and rubbed his forehead. “Let’s brainstorm.”
Emma sat up suddenly. “Stripping?”
Spinner laughed, but Emma’s face was hard and flat. “No, you’re not serious.”
“Those girls make crazy tips,” Emma said. “I mean, I’d only have to do it until I had enough for my books. A few weeks maybe?”
“Emma, no,” Spinner said.
“It’s not like it means anything,” Emma said. “I mean, it’s not like it’s cheating or whatever.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Spinner said. He looked hurt, pained. “I know you’ve had issues with your body in the past…”
“I haven’t had that kind of problem in years,” Emma replied quickly, a pit forming in her stomach as she thought about the shame of her history with anorexia.
“I know you’re perfect and any guy would be lucky to see you dance around in a tiny bikini,” Spinner said, “but taking your clothes off for money seems like the perfect way to fall back into your disorder.”
Emma cursed herself mentally. What was she thinking? Spinner was absolutely right. Being judged and scrutinized for her naked body, even if she’d be making a lot of money in the process, would probably cause some negative feelings to surface. But still. The money. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“No,” Spinner said one more time. “Let’s get some rest tonight and think about other ways to make some cash in the morning. We have a few weeks until your next semester starts anyway.”
Emma nodded, but she wasn’t convinced.
In the morning, Emma woke up to an empty bed and the sound of Spinner talking to someone at the door.
“Yeah, come in and take a look,” he was saying. “Just be quiet, though, cuz my wife is still sleeping.”
Emma peered over the railing of the loft, trying to spy without herself being seen. She wasn’t dressed yet, her hair still a rat’s nest on the top of her head. But she also didn’t want to disturb whatever was happening on the floor below.
A guy about their age walked into the apartment and followed Spinner to his drum set. “Yeah, it looks nice,” the guy said, flipping his hair. “So what are you thinking? Like $300?”
“Dude, this isn’t some kiddie my-first-drum-kit, right? The double pedal alone would run you $250,” Spinner replied.
What was he doing?
“Alright, alright, man. You clearly know what you’re talking about. So, what’s your price?”
“A thousand.”
“Dude.”
“Okay, fine. $850, but that’s the final offer,” Spinner said.
The dude didn’t answer, instead pulling out his wallet and counting the bills. He had clearly come prepared to spend at least that much. He handed over the stack to Spinner who counted it back.
Then Emma watched as piece-by-piece, Spinner helped this stranger take away his drums. She knew what this was about and she couldn’t take it anymore. She quickly got dressed and threw on one of Spinner’s The Dot beanies and ran down the stairs before they could walk off with the high hat. “No, Spinner, don’t,” she said. “We’ll find another way.”
The long haired guy paused and looked between the two of them, clearly uncomfortable.
“It’s okay, Emma,” said Spinner. “I barely have time to play anyway and they’re just taking up space.” He smiled, as if this was really all for his own benefit, but Emma could see the regret just behind his dark brown eyes. “Really, it’s okay,” he said. He knew that she could tell how hard this was for him, but he was begging her to let him do this anyway.
“Okay,” Emma said.
And the guy picked up the snare and walked out the door with it.
“By the way, I found some used copies of your textbooks online. The $850 that guy gave me will cover all of them,” Spinner said.
Emma’s eyes were a little misty. “Thank you, Spinner,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. Her problems were shared with him now. And she was finally starting to understand that.