Metaworld HopeCore

Saturday.

With Valorie gone to Reedley, Eppie took a taxi down to Broadway-Manchester with a bag of things she pretended weren't gifts to shore up confidence in one of their more vulnerable companions.

She knew it was manipulative.

She knew it wasn’t done out of the goodness of her heart.

But she didn’t want any surprises in the four-week lead-up to D-day, and she also wanted to give away some stuff to Simone’s sisters.

Denise Goode answered the door, pulling Eppie inside before the security barrier had finished swinging. The mother of three’s eye bags had subsided substantially, which made Eppie a little less guilty, welcoming Eppie with the Goode news.

“We’re moving in June!” Denise was giddy. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening, and it’s all thanks to Simone having friends like you and Valorie.”

The family, Denise explained, before Eppie could even sit, had found a place in Carson. Two bedrooms and a yard the size of a postage stamp, but a yard was a yard, in a building with an elevator that actually worked, and they could move as soon as next month if the paperwork behaved itself. Denise said all of this in one breath, like the tale had been caught in her throat since Eppie had called the day before—then hugged Eppie, kissed the girls, hugged Eppie again, then apologised profusely before going to her shift at the diner, leaving Renée as Eppie’s replacement host.

Disrupted from her studies, Renée looked as serious as ever, but the young scholar regained her childhood when Eppie indicated that she had brought two whole bags of America’s favourite snacks.

Cora dragged Eppie onto the living room carpet by the hand. She produced, with the solemnity of a museum curator, the entire photo envelope from the Disneyland trip—Mickey ears, churros, Cora mid-scream on Slinky Dog, Simone laughing with her whole face. Cora narrated every photo in exhaustive detail, whether or not narration was strictly necessary, making Eppie wonder if she should introduce Cora to the niche market of making Disneyland Guides on YouTube.

With Cora cradled between her arms, Eppie watched her [Causality] pop a dozen times until Renée accidentally revealed, winking, that she had stacks of college brochures and would like to know how much these cost… really cost.

It was just as well that Eppie was somewhat of an expert—an expert blessed with [Memorisation].

“Alright,” Eppie hugged Cora in with both arms while delivering the truth. “First thing… that number on the front? That’s the sticker price; no one seriously pays it.”

Renée's face did something complicated; her eyes grew wet.

“Hold up…” Eppie realised Renée had the wrong idea entirely. The girl must have thought she meant that college cost MORE, not less. “So… your grades should be fine for UC, or CSU, right? UC’s about seven grand, CSU’s about three?”

Holy hell, the mid-2000s were cheap… Eppie winced at the post covid pricing of her old world, and metaphorically wept.

“If yes, then that’s a scam. For someone in your position, you should fill out this thing called the FAFSA—Google it—it's just paperwork, and that’s your cheat sheet. Once you have it, you can apply for a Pell Grant; that’s four grand a year. Then, apply for a Cal Grant, and if you qualify, it covers your entire tuition. Not a loan. A grant. The whole bill, gone!”

Renée stared. Too fearful to hope. “T-the whole bill?”

“The whole four years,” Eppie nodded with confidence. “CSU and UC both have support for Educational Opportunity Programs. You get private advisors, priority registration, academic support, and there’s even an additional grant on top of your existing grant.”

Renée’s lips trembled.

Oh… poor baby… Eppie opened her arms, and the girl settled into the nook with her face already a mess of tears.