Master came along?” I whisper back. “Because we’re never going to beat Wasser Hall at the rate we’re going.”
“Heather,” Tom says, giving me a mockly disapproving look. “This isn’t about winning. It’s about coming together as a team.”
“Shut up,” I say. “We’re going to cream Wasser Hall if it’s the last thing I do.”
In the end, of course, that’s exactly what we do. Our “house” is completed well before anyone else’s. I corral the members of my team into it, then raise my hand and call, “Dr. Flynn! Oh, Dr. Flynn! I think we’re done.”
Dr. Flynn, looking pleased, comes over and examines my team’s handiwork.
“Oh, yes,” he says. “Great job. Just great. Really excellent teamwork, all of you.”
“Can we take our blindfolds off now?” Muffy wants to know.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Dr. Flynn says.
Muffy, Reverend Mark, Gillian, and Tom all remove their blindfolds and look around at the newspaper house they’re sitting in.
“Isn’t it amazing, you guys?” Dr. Flynn asks. “Can you believe you worked together to build something with your own bare hands—while blindfolded? Sit back and relax while everybody else finishes theirs. And give yourselves a well-deserved pat on the back…”
Gillian is staring in astonishment at the four flimsy newspaper poles that are holding up an equally flimsy newspaper canopy…like the cheapest wedding chuppah in the world over two extremely confused couples.
“But…where are the walls we wove?” Muffy wants to know.
“Oh,” I say. “That was going to take forever. So I made an executive decision not to use them and go with Tom’s idea.”
“Well,” Gillian says, looking down at her ink-blackened fingers—and the consequent stains all over her cream-colored linen suit. “You could have said something.”
“You guys were so enthusiastic,” I say. “I didn’t want to break your pioneering spirit.”
“Well,” Reverend Mark says, as he crawls out from beneath the paper structure. “That was fun. Wasn’t it? Oh, here, let me help you up…”
“Oh, thank you so much.” Muffy does appear to be having some trouble climbing to her feet, especially considering how tight her pencil skirt is, and how high her heels are. She slips both her ink-stained hands into Reverend Mark’s and, looking up into his eyes, allows him to pull her to her feet.
“‘My love,’” Tom sings softly into my ear. “‘There’s only you, in my life…the only thing that’s right…’”
“Do we have to continue with this pointless charade?” Simon, from Wasser Hall, rips off his blindfold to inquire. He pronounces charade the British way. “They won. So why do we have to keep on—”
“It’s not about who wins or loses, Simon,” Dr. Flynn intones smoothly. Even though, of course, when it comes to me and Wasser Hall, it most definitely is about me winning and them losing. “Please put your blindfold back on, and continue to help your team.”
“But that’s not fair. Heather and Tom have worked together before,” Simon whines. “They’re obviously compatible. I hardly know the people I’m teamed up with—no offense, guys—”
“Simon!” says Dr. Jessup, who is wearing a multicolored scarf around his eyes and sitting in the middle of what appears to be a semicompleted teepee made of newsprint. “Put your blindfold back on!”
It’s at this moment that the library door opens and a student walks in.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Flynn says to the student. “The library is closed for the afternoon for an important administrative staff meeting.”
The student looks around at all the grown men and women—presumably college officials, in professional attire—wearing scarves over their eyes and sitting in houses built out of old newspapers. His expression is, understandably, confused.
It’s only then that I realize that the student is Gavin McGoren.
“Um,” he says. “They told me downstairs I could find Heather
“Heather,” Tom says, giving me a mockly disapproving look. “This isn’t about winning. It’s about coming together as a team.”
“Shut up,” I say. “We’re going to cream Wasser Hall if it’s the last thing I do.”
In the end, of course, that’s exactly what we do. Our “house” is completed well before anyone else’s. I corral the members of my team into it, then raise my hand and call, “Dr. Flynn! Oh, Dr. Flynn! I think we’re done.”
Dr. Flynn, looking pleased, comes over and examines my team’s handiwork.
“Oh, yes,” he says. “Great job. Just great. Really excellent teamwork, all of you.”
“Can we take our blindfolds off now?” Muffy wants to know.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Dr. Flynn says.
Muffy, Reverend Mark, Gillian, and Tom all remove their blindfolds and look around at the newspaper house they’re sitting in.
“Isn’t it amazing, you guys?” Dr. Flynn asks. “Can you believe you worked together to build something with your own bare hands—while blindfolded? Sit back and relax while everybody else finishes theirs. And give yourselves a well-deserved pat on the back…”
Gillian is staring in astonishment at the four flimsy newspaper poles that are holding up an equally flimsy newspaper canopy…like the cheapest wedding chuppah in the world over two extremely confused couples.
“But…where are the walls we wove?” Muffy wants to know.
“Oh,” I say. “That was going to take forever. So I made an executive decision not to use them and go with Tom’s idea.”
“Well,” Gillian says, looking down at her ink-blackened fingers—and the consequent stains all over her cream-colored linen suit. “You could have said something.”
“You guys were so enthusiastic,” I say. “I didn’t want to break your pioneering spirit.”
“Well,” Reverend Mark says, as he crawls out from beneath the paper structure. “That was fun. Wasn’t it? Oh, here, let me help you up…”
“Oh, thank you so much.” Muffy does appear to be having some trouble climbing to her feet, especially considering how tight her pencil skirt is, and how high her heels are. She slips both her ink-stained hands into Reverend Mark’s and, looking up into his eyes, allows him to pull her to her feet.
“‘My love,’” Tom sings softly into my ear. “‘There’s only you, in my life…the only thing that’s right…’”
“Do we have to continue with this pointless charade?” Simon, from Wasser Hall, rips off his blindfold to inquire. He pronounces charade the British way. “They won. So why do we have to keep on—”
“It’s not about who wins or loses, Simon,” Dr. Flynn intones smoothly. Even though, of course, when it comes to me and Wasser Hall, it most definitely is about me winning and them losing. “Please put your blindfold back on, and continue to help your team.”
“But that’s not fair. Heather and Tom have worked together before,” Simon whines. “They’re obviously compatible. I hardly know the people I’m teamed up with—no offense, guys—”
“Simon!” says Dr. Jessup, who is wearing a multicolored scarf around his eyes and sitting in the middle of what appears to be a semicompleted teepee made of newsprint. “Put your blindfold back on!”
It’s at this moment that the library door opens and a student walks in.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Flynn says to the student. “The library is closed for the afternoon for an important administrative staff meeting.”
The student looks around at all the grown men and women—presumably college officials, in professional attire—wearing scarves over their eyes and sitting in houses built out of old newspapers. His expression is, understandably, confused.
It’s only then that I realize that the student is Gavin McGoren.
“Um,” he says. “They told me downstairs I could find Heather
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