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Whatever, she thought and looked back down at her paperwork before Cam made eye contact and tried to smile. She feared she wouldn’t be able to offer a friendly response. British fiddled with a section of the two-page document where the silver staple bound the papers. Her portion of tonight’s discussion was the last on the agenda before they took off for the Thanksgiving break. The bonus money would pay for accommodations, travel and supplies if the STEM for GRITS attended the district science fair, where they’d compete against several schools in Southern Georgia.
“You’re not going to get anywhere if you’re frowning like that.”
Looking up, British watched her teacher’s aide, Kimber Reyes, pull out the empty black-metal folding chair beside her and take a seat. “Hey, we’re just about to start back up.”
“Convenient,” Kimber said, shaking her head. “I saw Cam run outside to put the top up on his convertible. He’s more afraid of getting the car wet than his dreadlock extensions.”
As a former beauty queen, British recognized false hair. She never judged anyone for their hair accessories, but Cam tempted her to start. He looked ridiculous with an extra piece of hair covering the spot where his heavy dreads exposed his bald spot. Though British laughed at Kimber’s sarcasm, a feeling of dread came over her. Across the square, Cam huddled with the principal and the superintendent.
A feeling of doom washed over British the moment the superintendent, Herbert Locke, greeted Cam with a pat on the back and whispered something in the science director’s ear. The two bent over in laughter of the slap-happy-inside-joke kind. Of course these two were buddies. They probably just made arrangements to visit each other’s hunting camps, considering deer season was about to kick off. British needed these funds and she had to get the board to recognize it.
“All right, if we can finish up here,” the president of the Southwood School Advisory Committee said, clearing her throat. “I am sure we would all like to get home and start cooking for the Thanksgiving holiday before this storm breaks and leaves us high and dry.”
As if on cue a crack of lightning lit up the rectangular windows of the conference room. Everyone groaned.
“Excuse me,” British said, standing as others began to gather their belongings. “I believe we missed my part of the agenda.” She was never one to bite her tongue and she wasn’t going to start now.
Someone sighed in annoyance.
Two of the high school teachers plopped their purses back on the table.
“Sorry to take five minutes out of your evening, but this has been put off long enough and now that we have Superintendent Locke here—”
“You’re already two minutes into your time, Home Ec,” Cam interrupted and chuckled.
British’s upper lip curled, hearing the nickname; she twisted the pear-shaped diamond engagement ring she still wore on her finger. Bravery ignited, she cleared her throat. “I don’t see how laughing about STEM for GRITS is funny.” But as she said the words the rest of the advisory board laughed. Heat filled her cheeks, reminding her of the time when she realized she loved science and the science fairs. She’d been so excited the year she was old enough to make an exploding volcano that she practically ran over to join the boys. Her ears still rang from the laughter of the class when the boys told her she could only clean up after them and handed her a broom. None of her girlfriends, friends who didn’t grasp the science behind creating their own lip-gloss flavors, wanted to speak up in fear of how the boys would respond. British knew then there needed to be a better support group for girls.
“Why do you think your girls deserve the bonus funding when we already have a legitimate robotics team that can use the funding?” Cam asked, elbowing the superintendent.
“Because the boys on the robotics team are either distracted by the girls or they’re not inclusive.”
Locke raised his hands in the air. “Which is it?”
Cam spoke first. “Maybe if your girls dressed—”
The women who’d slammed their purses down gasped at the absurdity.
“The trends these days...” Cam sputtered and tried to recover. “Look, when I was growing up, girls had to cover up and wear long skirts. Shirts were damn near turtlenecks. Nowadays they’re wearing basically neon signs for boys to look.”
“How ’bout you teach your boys to not stare?” British tapped her paperwork with her pink-polished nails. Maybe today was not the greatest day to wear this cotton-candy color. “May we please focus on the agenda?”
And then the weather spoke for her. A loud boom cracked outside on the lawn; the lights flickered and the air went off. Ear-piercing silence filled the room. Once everyone registered what had happened, they began talking at once.
British could feel her funding being pushed to the next meeting. “Before this meeting adjourns, can we please vote to approve who gets the donation from the city? Maybe the Christmas Advisory Council can weigh in on the matter?”
Miss McDonald, the school’s librarian and the parliamentarian of the council, banged her gavel at her end of the table and commanded order just as she did in the library.
“What?” British asked. “We’re not going to meet next month and, before the year ends, there’s a chance my girls can make it to the Four Points STEM contest. It is imperative to nurture young girls at this impressionable age. We need to continue to encourage their creative minds in science and math, as well as everything else. We need more geochemists like Ashanti Johnson, zoologists like Lillian Burwell Lewis and, of course mathematicians like Katherine Johnson. Is the school willing to sponsor both teams?”
As British spoke she recognized the eye-rolls. She was losing her audience. Everyone wanted to get home. They wanted to be with their families. For the first time this year, the schools planned to be closed the entire week of Thanksgiving instead of the last three days of the week, which was fine, British guessed. She tried to avoid her family this time of year.
“Why didn’t you put in your request sooner?” the treasurer asked, flipping through a black binder. “I see no notes here.”
“Strange.” British glared across at Cam. She twisted her wedding ring round her finger for confidence. “I could have sworn I had submitted it at least every other week since the beginning of the semester, once I heard about the extra funding. Actually, I gave it to you again before the school day started.”
Cam shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I handed in another proposal a week ago.” British’s nails scratched at the top of the table. Kimber patted her on the back, easing her down.
