it’s based on need?” Talia asked.
“Then you have to consider everyone else who might qualify,” Ben said. “Now you’re talking about people applying for it based on financial need. They’d have to present financial statements, bank accounts, all sorts of stuff. And you’d have to go through it all, and if the scholarship went to Dan everyone would still think it had been created just for him.”
It wasn’t hard to get the picture. The least expensive thing about the winter formal is the ticket to the dance. There’s alsothe tux rental, the party bus or limo, the after-party club, and on and on. It probably wasn’t that Talia didn’t want to pay for me, as much as she didn’t want the whole school to know.
It made me incredibly uncomfortable. “Thanks, guys, but I can’t accept charity.”
“What about your scholarship to Rice?” Talia asked.
“I earned that by pitching.”
“Not to mention what they’ll earn on ticket sales, merchandise, and TV deals,” Ben added.
Talia began to argue. “But—”
“Talia!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice as sharply as it came out. Talia instantly hunched her shoulders and went quiet. Suddenly none of them could look me in the eye.
“Ben, you’re totally right. There’s no way I’d accept this.” I turned to Talia and put my hand on her arm. “Listen, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but . . . it’s just . . . try to see it from my point of view. That’s not the kind of attention I need.”
She nodded mutely.
Tory cleared her throat. “We have a lot more that we need to discuss here, Dan, so maybe . . .”
“I hear you,” I said, and left.
* * *
Talia and I had a long talk that night. She started off upset and defensive—insisting she’d only been trying to help—but I got her to calm down by telling her I appreciated it, and then repeating that I didn’t want to do anything thatsingled me out. Eventually Talia said she understood, and the topic of the winter formal was left unresolved.
On Friday night Mom and Dad went to Town Hall after dinner. The whole weekend lay ahead and I was wondering what to do. Talia and her mom had planned a bunch of college visits, so she’d be away. At Dignityville a group gathered each evening to watch the TV at the back of the dining tent, but I couldn’t picture myself among them. Then I spotted Meg and an older woman coming up the path between the rows of tents. The woman’s hair was curly gray, but her skin wasn’t as wrinkled as you might have expected. She got closer and I began to see the resemblance and knew she was Mrs. Fine.
They stopped and Meg introduced us.
“Meg’s told me about you,” Mrs. Fine said, and gave her daughter a kind of amused smile as if they knew something I didn’t know. Then she said to Meg, “Not too late tonight, okay?”
Meg nodded. Her mom said it was nice to meet me and left.
“What was that smile about?” I asked.
“That you thought I was Aubrey’s girlfriend.”
“Hey, it was a natural mistake. Anyone could have made it.”
“I know. We just had a laugh.” She gave me a curious look. “Whatcha up to?”
“Not much. You?”
“Aubrey asked me to go to the town council meeting. He’s bartending tonight.”
“Think something’s going to happen?” I asked.
“We never know. He’s always worried they might try to sneak a motion through that will hurt Dignityville, so if I see something like that happening, I’m supposed to call him.” She paused and studied me. “Want to come?”
I can’t say I was thrilled. Going to that meeting sounded like as much fun as doing the crab walk in gym, but at least it would pass the time.
* * *
We sat in the last row. Not only had I never been to a city council meeting, I’d never been to Town Hall. The room was more than half-full when the council came in and sat at a panel in the front. Mayor George, a heavy, red-faced man, sat behind a plaque that said COUNCIL
“Then you have to consider everyone else who might qualify,” Ben said. “Now you’re talking about people applying for it based on financial need. They’d have to present financial statements, bank accounts, all sorts of stuff. And you’d have to go through it all, and if the scholarship went to Dan everyone would still think it had been created just for him.”
It wasn’t hard to get the picture. The least expensive thing about the winter formal is the ticket to the dance. There’s alsothe tux rental, the party bus or limo, the after-party club, and on and on. It probably wasn’t that Talia didn’t want to pay for me, as much as she didn’t want the whole school to know.
It made me incredibly uncomfortable. “Thanks, guys, but I can’t accept charity.”
“What about your scholarship to Rice?” Talia asked.
“I earned that by pitching.”
“Not to mention what they’ll earn on ticket sales, merchandise, and TV deals,” Ben added.
Talia began to argue. “But—”
“Talia!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice as sharply as it came out. Talia instantly hunched her shoulders and went quiet. Suddenly none of them could look me in the eye.
“Ben, you’re totally right. There’s no way I’d accept this.” I turned to Talia and put my hand on her arm. “Listen, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but . . . it’s just . . . try to see it from my point of view. That’s not the kind of attention I need.”
She nodded mutely.
Tory cleared her throat. “We have a lot more that we need to discuss here, Dan, so maybe . . .”
“I hear you,” I said, and left.
* * *
Talia and I had a long talk that night. She started off upset and defensive—insisting she’d only been trying to help—but I got her to calm down by telling her I appreciated it, and then repeating that I didn’t want to do anything thatsingled me out. Eventually Talia said she understood, and the topic of the winter formal was left unresolved.
On Friday night Mom and Dad went to Town Hall after dinner. The whole weekend lay ahead and I was wondering what to do. Talia and her mom had planned a bunch of college visits, so she’d be away. At Dignityville a group gathered each evening to watch the TV at the back of the dining tent, but I couldn’t picture myself among them. Then I spotted Meg and an older woman coming up the path between the rows of tents. The woman’s hair was curly gray, but her skin wasn’t as wrinkled as you might have expected. She got closer and I began to see the resemblance and knew she was Mrs. Fine.
They stopped and Meg introduced us.
“Meg’s told me about you,” Mrs. Fine said, and gave her daughter a kind of amused smile as if they knew something I didn’t know. Then she said to Meg, “Not too late tonight, okay?”
Meg nodded. Her mom said it was nice to meet me and left.
“What was that smile about?” I asked.
“That you thought I was Aubrey’s girlfriend.”
“Hey, it was a natural mistake. Anyone could have made it.”
“I know. We just had a laugh.” She gave me a curious look. “Whatcha up to?”
“Not much. You?”
“Aubrey asked me to go to the town council meeting. He’s bartending tonight.”
“Think something’s going to happen?” I asked.
“We never know. He’s always worried they might try to sneak a motion through that will hurt Dignityville, so if I see something like that happening, I’m supposed to call him.” She paused and studied me. “Want to come?”
I can’t say I was thrilled. Going to that meeting sounded like as much fun as doing the crab walk in gym, but at least it would pass the time.
* * *
We sat in the last row. Not only had I never been to a city council meeting, I’d never been to Town Hall. The room was more than half-full when the council came in and sat at a panel in the front. Mayor George, a heavy, red-faced man, sat behind a plaque that said COUNCIL
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