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“I had fun with you too,” she replies, her ears turning an adorable shade of pink.
I get an odd feeling just then. I look behind me and I see another person watching us closely. “Oh, do you know her?”
Mal follows my gaze and her face blanches. “That’s my neighbor.”
A dozen follow-up questions pop into my head, but a commanding voice pulls me back into the business at hand.
“Mr. Pope?”
I swivel back to face the front and see a room full of eyes, mostly female, watching me with avid interest. I hear some tittering. I must look like a complete airhead right now.
I stand up, apologize, say thank you, and walk to the podium.
The PTA president, who introduced herself earlier to me as Bianca Rushmore, looks me up and down as I clear my throat and get ready to deliver my funding pitch.
“Hi everyone,” I say, and launch into my story.
I explain that as a brand new teacher I would not normally think of asking for money for a special trip, but that this event came up suddenly and the deadline to apply is coming up quickly.
Mrs. Rushmore had previously assured me that the trip should not be an issue for the PTA. They’ve funded much bigger things for more money.
“Should be a slam dunk, but we will have to vote,” were her specific words on the phone last week.
When I finish my speech, however, the vote doesn’t go the way Bianca thought it would.
The woman who I now recognize as Mal’s neighbor says, “This is a brand new school year, a brand new teacher, an untested program. I don’t see why we should be just handing out money like this. We don’t even know this man.”
Bianca looks confused but only very briefly. “Well, Meredith, as PTA treasurer, you know we have a history of funding trips like this. And besides that, we do, in fact, know who he is. He’s our newest language arts teacher. Fiction writing, which is a special privilege, a college-level course. He’s been vetted by the school board and human resources. I don’t see why this would be out of bounds for us.”
Meredith then shifts her gaze to Mal, shooting her daggers for God knows what reason.
I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it.
And frankly I don’t want any money from these strange people if this is going to cause a problem for Mal or her daughter.
Involuntarily, I pull myself to my full height to interrupt the proceedings. “What about a bake sale?”
Bianca smiles indulgently at me. “It’s not that we don’t have this in the budget. And besides, bake sales are really just ways to give the children ownership of their activities so they don’t have everything handed to them. But it’s a nice thought.”
I look straight into Mal’s eyes and she’s goggling at me. “Then let me do a bake sale and take ownership of my new class. Really show you how committed I am.”
Bianca crosses her arms and sighs. “A bake sale for a fiction writing workshop trip to the middle of nowhere? There’s no reason why we shouldn’t fund this; it’s really a pittance compared to our theater department’s trips to New York City every year.”
The scraping of a chair across the hardwood gym floor has heads turning. Mal stands and says, “I’ll do it. I volunteer.”
“Mal,” Meredith says with a sneer. “Usually you just drop your cookies at our little meetings and skedaddle. So nice of you to stay. I know it must be difficult chasing that almighty dollar day and night. To what do we owe the privilege of your presence?” Meredith has the kind of saccharine smile that can make a person feel deeply unsettled. She’s talking to Mal but looking right at me.
I have no idea what’s going on right now. I don’t know why she seems to have it in for me or for Mal.
“I...” Mal starts. My new friend is now blushing in humiliation. A never-before-seen angry bear starts to awaken in my chest. No. I will not have someone talking to her like that, putting her on the spot.
“Oh, that would be me,” I interject. All heads swivel in my direction like a game of ping pong. “I asked her to stay. The bake sale idea was my plan B all along because she’s a good friend of mine. Guess you caught me.”
Chapter Three
Mal
The feeling that gave me, I can’t even explain it.
