by Jeff Shelby
“Yes, I've spoken with them,” she snapped.
It was the first time in three days that I'd seen her overly positive demeanor shaken and it startled me.
She pursed her red lips, then stood and closed the door to the office.
She sat back down and stared at me .
“I'm sorry, Daisy . .” She expelled a breath. “ That was uncalled for and I apologize for speaking that way to you.”
“It's alright,” I said, a little on guard now.
“It's just that...well, there's a bit of an issue with the insurance.”
“An issue?”
She shifted in the chair, rubbing her hands together like she was trying to get lotion absorbed into her skin. pinched the b ridge of her nose and sighed. “Yes. An issue. It seems that we might not be getting reimbursed at all.”
“What?” I asked. “How is that even possible?”
“There's a question about our premiums.”
“What kind of question?”
She rubbed her hands together some more She locked eyes with me . “I trust I can still count on your discretion?”
When I heard things like that, I felt like I was in the mob or something, as if I was about to hear some secret that might unveil reveal some sort of conspiracy designed to take down the entire town of Moose River.
Pretty sure that was the imagination Jake was always rolling his eyes at.
“Yes,” I said, trying not to lean forward over the desk and seem too eager.
She cleared her throat. “We lost our financial person at the end of the last school year. She decided that she and Prism were ... not a good fit.”
That was a bit different than what Ellen had shared with me, but I thought I understood why she was putting it that way. It was none of my business why the person was fired , and I knew telling me would violate her privacy.
“S o at the end of the school year, s he left Prism at the end of the school year ,” Evelyn Bingledorf explained. “We did not replace the position – for a number of reasons that I don't want to get into right now , – but we have not had a full-time financial person since then. And things have gotten a bit...confusing. Too many hands, not enough eyes and all that.”
My brow furrowed. I wasn't sure that was a real saying because if there were too many hands, shouldn't there have been just as many eyes? Or was someone blind or ? Or wearing an eyepatch?
“Things have gotten set aside in the...confusion,” she said, shifting again. “And one of those things that may have gotten set aside overlooked were our insurance premiums. It appears they may not have been paid for a few months.”
My jaw wanted to drop dropped. and smash itself on the desk, but I managed to keep it in place. “What?”
She cleared her throat again. “We are behind on our premiums. I spoke to our carrier last night and our coverage has lapsed.” She paused, h H er mouth twisting into a knot. “Meaning the theft may not be covered.”
I wasn't sure what to even say to that. It was so irresponsible and so unbelievable to me. I understood that the financial person was gone, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how something so important would've gotten left by the wayside.
“I ha ' ve contacted our lawyers,” she said, rubbing her hands together again. “To see what our options are. I'm hoping that we can come to some sort of agreement with our insurer, that they will see that it's simply an oversight and that we assumed we were under coverage and we can bring the policy back into good standing with retroactive coverage.”
Yeah. Because insurance companies were so understanding.
“ Uh, w W ell, I hope that happens,” I said, struggling for words. “I hope something can be done.”
“Yes,” she said, the smile snapping back magically materializing again onto her face . “Yes. We will figure it out. But in the meantime, w e a e' re ...well, we're stuck. There will be no quick reimbursement. So we will be depending on funds from outside sources. I a ' m working to find some donors outside of the school.” She paused, freezing the smile on her face in place . “But I'm sure you can now see how important your fundraiser is.”
“ Uh, yeah,” I said, about a A million things r unning an through my mind. “I guess it is. But you understand that there's no possible way this will bring in the kind of money needed to replace an entire lab, right?”
The smile stayed plastered on her face wavered a little . “Of course. But I believe that it's important that we show that we aren't just sitting back and waiting for dollars to fall from the sky. The talent show is as much about showing that we aren't resting on our laurels as much as it is in bringing in funds. I believe that when I go out into the community to seek some assistance, the fact that I can tell people that we are in fact doing something will make a difference.”
I wasn't exactly sure how that was true. thought about what she'd said. Yes, it would look like Prism wasn't just looking for handouts, but I didn't think it would it open the financial floodgates and bring people and businesses would be lining up to donate to the school. to the school, donations in hand.
“Urgency is key,” Bingledor said, standing from the chair. She tugged on her blazer. “Not that you weren't working with it before, but now, given some of these new wrinkles, time is of the utmost essence. We can't have students attending computer science classes and then offer them credit for passing those classes if they aren't actually working on computers.” She paused Her eyes were on me . “We must deliver an immediate solution and , Daisy, we are we're counting on you to deliver on a significant part of that solution.”
She smiled again and left.
I sat there in the quiet office for a moment, her perfume ling er ing in the air, like she'd disappeared in a poof of smoke.
I stared at my desktop, was still trying to grasp come to terms with the fact that the school wasn't insured. And I wondered if that meant all of the school's insurance had been cancelled. I assumed it was and that Prism had been operating without liability insurance for who knew how long. I couldn't believe that they'd had all of the students on campus and there was no coverage. What if something happened? What if a kid fell down the stairs? Put a hand through a window? How had no one been looking out for that kind of thing? I understood that they were now operating without the employee who'd taken care of these things , but shouldn't someone have been responsible for making sure the basics were covered? Like insurance? the person whose job it was was let go, but how did they not make sure that the most important things were taken care of .
I knew what Jake's answer would be . Incompetence. He 'd always said the school was draped in it and , after Bingledorf's revelation, it was hard to argue. I wondered if Bingledorf h ad shared the news regarding the insurance premiums with the school board. If she had, I had to assume her job was on the line, given that she was the point person and the one ultimately responsible for the school. And what would happen if she did lose her job?
My temples throbbed and I put my head in my hands.
I was already stressed and worried over pulling off the show just because it seemed like an enormous task.
Evelyn Bingledorf's visit had just tripled my stress and worry.
TWENTY TWO
When the going gets tough, the tough get...paralyzed with fear and anxiety.
I sat at the desk for at least fifteen minutes the better part of the morning , tapping my pen against the n otebook in front of me, trying to think of ways out of the predicament. a way to get out of organizing the talent show.
I could flat out refuse to do it.
I could fake an illness.
I could tell them Jake made me quit.
I thought about each option, imagining what I would say to Evelyn Bingledorf in each scenario. I could do it. I could talk myself into refusing, I could make myself sick just from the stress, or I could drop a hint to Jake that I wasn't happy about planning it and he would force me to drop the volunteer gig. It was as simple as deciding which excuse I wanted to go w
ith.
A knock sounded on the door and I looked up. A scrawny boy with short-cropped hair and braces smiled at me. Judging by his height and build, he had to be a freshman.
“ Is this the counseling office?” he asked, looking at Charlotte's empty desk.
I straightened in my seat. “Yes. Mrs. Nordhoff isn't here right now but I'm sure she'll be in later.”
He adjusted his backpack and took a step into the office. “I'm not looking for her.”
I frowned. “Oh?”
“ You're Emily's mom, right?”
I nodded, confused.
“ And you're the one who se 's putting on the talent show?” he asked. He smiled, showing off braces with neon green rubber bands.
“ Oh,” I said quickly, feeling my face warm. “I'm not sure yet. Nothing has been decided...”
His grin widened. “I heard it was to help us get new computers. You know, to replace the ones that are...missing.” He shifted his weight again, trying to adjust the massive pack attached to his back. “I...I wanted to know where I can sign up.”
“ Excuse me?”
“ To perform,” he said. “I want to juggle.”
“ Juggle?”
The boy nodded. “Balls, knives. It's sort of a hobby of mine,” he explained. “A lot of people don't know I can do it and, well, I want to perform but I also really want computers back in our computer lab.”
I stared at the kid in front of me. His expression was eager, hopeful even, and, just like that, all of my excuses went out the window. I thought about the hundreds of students who were enrolled at Prism; not just this kid or Emily, but the the others who probably wanted a working computer lab back up and running just as badly as Evelyn Bingledorf did. They weren't the ones who had stolen them and they weren't the ones who'd forgotten to pay the insurance premiums. But they were the ones who it impacted the most.
I smiled at the boy and picked up my pen. “I'll add you to the list of performances,” I told him. “What's your name?”
“ Stephen,” he said. “With a P. And my last name is Morse.” But none of these things seemed like strong enough lies, so I was forced to deal with the fact that, like it or not, I was the planner of the talent show that was going to partially save Prism.
And that meant I needed performers.
I jotted his name down and, the minute he left, I grabbed my notebook and walked marched back to the main office, filled my travel thermos with fresh coffee, took a long drink and headed out in search of crappy acts that people might pay money for. down to the teacher's lounge. There weren't many people there but it didn't matter. I wasn't leaving until I talked to everyone in there.
Genevive Addai, the music teacher , , was stirring powdered creamer into her coffee.
I thrust my notebook in her direction.
“ What's this?” she asked, wrinkling her button nose.
“ Sign -ups for the talent show.” Before she had a chance to turn me down, I added, “I was thinking you could do a short piano piece. Seeing as how you're the music teacher.”
“ But—” she began.
I didn't let her finish. “Did you want to play a different instrument? That could probably be arranged but I know piano is what you usually play during the school concerts.” I continued. “We'd also like some students to perform short pieces; maybe you can count talent show performances as a grade or as extra credit?”
Her expression changed, from apprehension to one of thoughtful contemplation. “Extra credit. That's a great idea.”
I handed her the pen I'd shoved behind my ear and she took both it and the notebook from me. She wrote her name down and, for the first time since I'd agreed to coordinate the show, a tiny burst of hope surged through me.
agreed to do a piano number and she thought she could round up several students to do the same. I went hunting for my next victims. Steve Longmeyer, the AP History teacher, reluctantly admitted that he did some knew some card tricks and I added his name to the list before he could object amateur magic and he'd do some tricks. Jerry Hicks, the geometry teacher, . said he could juggle . Mary Kessler, the physics teacher, agreed to sing a song even though she hadn't sung on stage in twenty years. as long as she could bring her own karaoke machine.
Things were beginning to look up. I'd secured four acts in the last twenty minutes. With any luck, I had ten minutes of performance time at the talent show taken care. I took a deep breath, trying to bouy myself as I went in search of my next vict im.
After a quick stop in the front office, I made my way toward the theater classroom, dodging a group of kids who were heading outside for Phys. Ed. They looked to be Emily's age but I didn't see any familiar faces in the crowd. They completely ignored me, which made me feel ancient and invisible.
Alice Vercota, the drama teacher, was sitting on a makeshift stage at the far end of her classroom, eating a sandwich. She had a lap top in front of her, her eyes glued to the screen.
And none of them did so willingly.
The way I got them to agree was basically the same way I got Alice Vercota, the drama teacher, to agree to participate.
I found her in her room at the end of one of the long hallways on the first floor. The room was larger than most and there was a makeshift stage at the far end, on which she was sitting, eating a sandwich when I walked in. “Mrs. Vercota?”
She looked toward me up , faking a smile, as she tried to make the sandwich less awkward in her hands. her half-eaten sandwich halfway to her mouth , and offered me a cautious smile. “Can I help you?”
I put on my best fake smile. “I sure hope so. I'm Daisy Savage.”
Her smile immediately crashed and I knew that my reputation was already makin g the faculty rounds it was clear she knew exactly why I was there . “Oh, yes. I'm Alice Vercota. I teach drama.”
“I know,” I said , still working the fake smile. . “That's sort of why I'm here. I'm helping to organize the talent show fundraiser for the computer lab ? . I'm not sure if you ha ve heard about it yet or not?” Have you heard about it?”
That was a lie on my part. I totally knew she'd heard based on the way her expression had changed, but I didn't want to overplay my hand.
She stood and brushed bread crumbs off her black blouse or tunic or whatever it was . She was shorter than me, with wide hips and feet that splayed outward like a penguin's. Her head was oval-shaped, topped with a pile of dark brown curls were gathered in a loose ponytail and her face was make-up free . Her face didn't show any trace of make up and her eyes seemed just a smidge too close together.
“Yes, I hav 'v e heard about it,” she said, with all of the excitement she might exude if I was also organizing free colonoscopies. “Someone was talking about it at lunch in the lunch room yesterday in the lunch room .”
I nodded , as if that was a good thing. . “Oh, excellent. So I don't have to give you my entire explanation about what Prism is doing.”
“No. You don't. And to be honest, I have a class in just a few minutes — ”
“Don't worry,” I said, glancing at the clock. “I won't take up much of your time. I know your class starts in, looks like, seventeen minutes Your class starts in twelve minutes, right ?”
Her cheeks redden d ed a bit. “Uh, yeah.”
I was glad I'd memorized the bell schedule. The first thing I'd figured out was that knowing the teaching schedule was key. They'd all tried to shuttle me out of the rooms, saying the kids were going to be coming soon. At first, I'd been suckered. But then I realized I was leaving rooms and it was taking awhile for those bells to ring. So then I started making sure I hit them when they had at least twenty minutes until students rolled in.
“ So I promise I'll be out of here in five minutes,” I said, still smiling told her . “Now . W , w hat do you think you might like to do for the show?”
That was the second tactic I'd changed. I was done asking people didn't ask if they wanted to participate. After my success in the lunch room, I realized it wa
s far easier to just assume people would be per forming. I just approached them and assumed they would be participating. Because it was far harder for them to say no to that.
“Oh, well, uh, I'm not sure, ” she said, fumbling for words. “I hadn't really given it much thought.”
Fortunately for Alice, I had.
“I was thinking that since you teach drama a skit might be fun?” I s aid uggested . “You could even involve some of your students ? . ”
She dropped the remainder of her sandwich in the trash bin. “A skit? Oh, I don't know.”
“ Sure,” I said, nodding. I forged ahead. “You could maybe do something school-oriented , like making fun of some of the other faculty. The kids would love that. Or maybe re-enact the robbery of the computers? Make it a little light-hearted?” – a parody of some of the classes or a n alternate universe Prism or something.”
She stared at me like I was an oncoming train that had no intention of slowing down. I smiled back. It Which was pretty much how I felt. Stephen-with-a-P Morse had lit the fire I'd needed to move forward with the talent show. He, along with all the other kids at Prism , were the ones I cared about and the ones I was planning this for. And I didn't care that teachers didn't want to do it. I was going to make them.
I was no longer flying by the seat of my pants when I asked for volunteers. I was coming in with plans and ideas. I was a homeschool mom. The one thing I had plenty of was plans and ideas and the ability to adapt on the fly. They thought teaching a class was hard? They should've tried keeping my kids entertained on a daily basis while educating them, too.
“You know, I'm not even really sure that I can,” Alice said, trying to get out of the way of the Daisy Train. “I haven't checked my calendar.”
“Oh, sure, I understand,” I said, nodding sympathetically , then glancing . I glanced at my notebook. “It looks like there's nothing going on with the drama production that night. So I know that shouldn't work against you.”
Her mouth twitched. “Right. I meant my personal calendar.”
“Oh, of course,” I said , nodding again. . I cocked my head. “ Have you by chance spoken to Mrs. Bingledorf this morning?” Well, I supposed you could speak to Mrs. Bi ngledorf if you do have a conflict.
