Chapter 5 - THE SCHOLARSHIP THEY TOOK FROM MY SISTER
"Why is Sofia's name on that list?"
Julian examined the screen.
His expression darkened.
"The scholarship office flagged her application."
"She never applied for your foundation's scholarship."
At least, that's what I believed.
Mercedes looked at me.
"Carolina, maybe you should speak to her before assuming anything."
I was already reaching for my phone.
Then I stopped.
Sofia had watched me sacrifice my own scholarship.
She knew how much that decision had cost.
Had she been hiding her dreams because she didn't want to burden me?
I turned back to Julian.
"What does restricted eligibility mean?"
"It usually means an application needs additional review."
"For what?"
"The records don't say."
He requested the original application file.
The office administrator brought it to us twenty minutes later.
Sofia had applied four months earlier.
She'd submitted audition recordings, school transcripts, and a personal statement.
The essay title was:
Why My Mother Taught Me to Listen.
I stared at the words.
My sister had written about Mom.
And I hadn't even known.
Then I saw the decision.
Application withdrawn.
Reason:
Family request.
"That's not possible," I said.
Julian checked the date.
"Was your sister seventeen in June?"
"Yes."
"Then a parent or guardian may have communicated with the office."
"My father?"
"I don't know."
I photographed the application reference number.
Then I called Sofia and asked her to meet me at home.
She was waiting in the kitchen when I arrived.
Our twin brothers, Mateo and Nico, had already left for school.
Dad sat beside the window.
Sofia looked from one face to another.
"What's wrong?"
I set the application on the table.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her cheeks reddened.
"Carolina—"
"You applied for a music scholarship."
She looked down.
"Yes."
"Why did you hide it?"
"Because you would've tried to pay for whatever it didn't cover."
I stared at her.
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
Her voice cracked.
"You work all the time. You don't buy yourself anything. You still wear the coat Mom gave you because you say it's perfectly fine."
I swallowed.
"I like that coat."
"I know."
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
"But I wanted something that didn't have to cost you."
The anger I'd carried home disappeared.
I sat beside her.
"Sofia, you never have to apologize for wanting a future."
She nodded.
Then I showed her the withdrawal notice.
"Did you ask them to cancel?"
"No."
"Did Dad?"
My father straightened.
"Absolutely not."
Sofia leaned forward.
"They told me I wasn't eligible."
"Who?"
"A woman from the foundation's scholarship office."
"What did she say?"
"That my family had an unresolved financial relationship with the organization."
I looked toward Dad.
His face changed.
The old assistance agreement.
Victoria had used it again.
Sofia continued.
"I asked what that meant. She said she couldn't discuss it."
"Did you appeal?"
"Yes."
She wiped her eyes.
"I sent another email. I told them Mom used to teach piano and that I wanted to study music education."
"And?"
"They invited me to an interview."
My stomach tightened.
"With whom?"
Sofia hesitated.
"Victoria Luján."
I sat completely still.
"Victoria interviewed you?"
"Only for about ten minutes."
"Tell me exactly what happened."
Sofia looked toward the window.
"I brought Mom's picture. The one of her sitting at the piano."
I remembered the photograph she'd shown me the night before.
"Victoria asked who she was."
"And you told her?"
"Yes."
Sofia's voice grew smaller.
"She asked me to repeat Mom's full name."
"Elena Reyes?"
Sofia nodded.
"Then she asked whether I had any of Mom's music."
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"What did you say?"
"That you kept some of her compositions."
"And then?"
"She closed my application folder."
I waited.
"She said there were too many qualified applicants and that I should consider another career."
My father muttered something under his breath.
Sofia looked embarrassed.
"I thought maybe she was right."
I reached for her hand.
"She wasn't."
"But she said—"
"Sofia, listen to me. That woman has no right to decide whether you deserve to play music."
My sister began crying.
Not loudly.
That somehow made it worse.
I held her until she could breathe normally again.
That afternoon, I returned to the foundation with Sofia's permission to review her application.
Julian had already requested the internal scholarship correspondence.
Mercedes joined us after her hotel shift.
The file contained an ordinary recommendation from Sofia's music teacher.
Her grades were excellent.
Her audition evaluation was strong.
One reviewer had even recommended advancing her to the final selection round.
Then came a note entered by the scholarship director.
Hold application pending board chair review.
A second note followed.
Applicant connected to unresolved Reyes catalog matter. Do not advance.
Julian stared at the screen.
"This wasn't an eligibility problem."
"What was it?"
"Someone intervened."
"Victoria?"
He nodded slowly.
"The instruction came from her office."
I remembered the gala.
The laughter.
The way Victoria had looked at me before she'd ever heard me play.
I'd thought she saw only another hotel employee.
But now I understood something terrible.
Victoria had already met my sister.
She knew our family name.
She knew what my mother had written.
And when Julian asked me to dance, she hadn't been embarrassed by a stranger.
She'd been frightened by a Reyes woman standing too close to the truth.
Then Mercedes opened the final attachment.
A photograph taken during Sofia's scholarship interview.
Victoria sat behind a desk, holding my mother's picture.
On the desk beside her was a printed list of the gala's event staff.
One name had been circled in red.
Carolina Reyes — Event Coordinator.
May you like
Underneath, someone had written:
KEEP HER AWAY FROM THE PIANO.
