Page 20 of The Headmaster’s Rule

My smile falters. “Oh,” I say, still holding the flier awkwardly between us. I think back to what Headmaster Wright said about last year’s fundraiser, something vague about “some issues” and “things not going to plan.” What happened?

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” I add, scrambling. “I’m new, so I’m still catching up, but I know the fundraiser is for a very good cause.” At least it will be if Headmaster Wright accepts my proposal.

Ed doesn’t take the flier. Instead, he crosses his arms, eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.

“A lot of folks donated generously last year, then never saw where the money went. It just disappeared. And no one had much to say about it afterward.”

A tiny flutter of panic begins in my chest. I should never have agreed to this without asking more questions about last year.

“I completely understand,” I say. “Honestly, if I were you, I’d feel the same way. I think that’s why Headmaster Wright is taking such a hands-on role this year, to make sure the entire event is handled properly. He wants transparency.” This part, at least, is true.

Ed squints at me for a long moment, then finally takes the flier from my hand with a heavy sigh. “Well. You seem nice enough, Miss Hart. I’ll consider it.”

I smile with relief. “Thank you.”

My pulse thrums as I leave the store, silently cursing Headmaster Wright. A little heads up about what to expect would have been nice.

At least when I enter Tide’s End Bookstore, I’m prepared. I hand the flier over with a smile, using the same speech I gave Ed, this time preempting the awkwardness.

“I know it didn’t go according to plan last year,” I say smoothly to the slender red-headed gentleman who runs the store. “But the school is taking precautions to ensure that won’t happen again. The fundraiser is being organized and run by Headmaster Wright himself.”

The store owner is skeptical, but he takes the flier anyway, and I count it as a win. I continue along Main Street with the same success, and by the time I reach The Salt Box Cafe, I’m pleased with the result. The school is an institution here, and I can tell people want to donate, they’re just hesitant after whatever it was that happened last year.

The Salt Box Cafe hums with activity when I enter, the scent of cinnamon swirling through the air. I order a pumpkin spice latte and a cider donut, then find a seat by the window. Pulling out my binder and colored pens, I settle in to work.

Speaking with the local business owners, I got a real sense of how much they want to help, but maybe asking for donations to the fundraiser isn’t the best way. What if they could donate to the students directly? Share their time instead, or items that students could actually use? Tools for crafts or woodworking. Gardening and art supplies. Books on mental health and mindfulness. Even yoga or meditation classes.

The more I think, the clearer it becomes: this could be about more than raising money.

What if the fundraiser laid the groundwork for something longer-lasting? A program giving students space to breathe. A pause in the academic calendar for a little while, where the focus shifts to emotional literacy, social connection, and resilience.

I imagine a quiet week between grading periods. We could have journaling and mindfulness workshops led by the school counselor. Classes taught in crafts and non-academic skills to boost confidence. A volunteer exchange between students and locals, restoring bonds between the school and the town. I can picture a school garden that donates produce to local shelters, and there could even be an artsy summer camp, run by Rowan, head of art.

It’s more than a fundraiser. It’s a new kind of support system.

But what should I call it?

I glance around the Salt Box Cafe, smiling. I love how so many of the businesses here are nautically themed. Maybe I could do the same with this program. Tie it to the town, the school, this beautiful location.

The perfect name appears in my mind, and I scribble it down with a grin.

Then I get to work.

My knee jiggles anxiously as I wait outside Headmaster Wright’s office. I wasn’t sure I’d have my proposal ready by first thing Monday morning, but I do; I spent all weekend working my ass off. Now, I’ve got a complete overview. Timeline. Projected costs. I’ve teased out the internal aspects that work within the school, and the community partnerships, got a clear list of goals behind the program, and ways to measure their success. I’ve even got a cute theme to market it.

What I don’t have is a meeting scheduled with Headmaster Wright, but this can’t wait. He needs to see it. Now.

Margaret peers at me over her glasses, letting them fall to her ample chest, hanging from the chain around her neck.

“He doesn’t like to be disturbed first thing in the morning, Miss Hart. Are you sure you can’t come back later?”

I shake my head, worried I’ll lose my nerve. “I have a proposal for the fall fundraiser cause I’d like him to see.”

Margaret sighs. “Fine.” Her gaze moves across me from head to toe, before she turns back to her screen. “I’ll let you know when you can go through.”

I look at my outfit anxiously. I chose a black and white horizontal-striped tee, tucked into a bold floral skirt, and my Mary Janes. It felt like the right choice when I put it on this morning, an outfit that makes me feel very much like myself, but now as I hover near the headmaster’s door, I wonder if it was a mistake.

“Nora!”