“It’s only at home that bad things happen,” I pointed out. “How many did you have?”
“Six.”
“Next time I’ll do better.”
I picked up Halle’s baby.
“You’re a bad kitty, Bandit,” I scolded.
He wasn’t afraid of me. I took a shower, got dressed, and left to find Rita.
“Sorry about that. I think Halle’s worried you’re mad at her.”
“It’s one thing to know … it’s another to
“Is there anything you want to ask me, or would you rather talk to my mom?”
“Is Halle okay?”
“She’s amazing,” I said, playing dumb.
“You’re not as funny as you think sometimes.”
“I know, but Halle sets the pace. I’ve never pushed her into anything.”
“Have your mom call me,” Rita decided.
◊◊◊
When I arrived home, I told my mom and dad that Rita wanted one of them to call her. I explained why, and my mom turned to my dad.
“Why don’t we ever play that game?”
“TMI! Too Much Information!” I complained as I put my hands over my ears and ran to my apartment.
I trusted my mom to talk Rita through her first encounter at finding a Dawson in bed with her daughter. Mom had done it enough with Greg. I swear he wasn’t very bright. Then again, I had an apartment, and he never did.
◊◊◊ Thursday January 28
At lunch, I found myself in our guidance counselor’s office. Jan, Stacy, Brit, Alan, and Wolf joined me. Ms. Jaroslav had ordered Monical’s, so she must need something from us.
“I want to start a new tradition at Lincoln High, a class project. I want to have the junior class do something that makes a difference,” Ms. Jaroslav said.
“We’re all busy. Why would we want to do a project?” Alan asked.
“You all plan to go to college. Extracurricular activities are an important element to the application process,” Ms. Jaroslav said and held up her hand to slow Alan down. “I realize you all have enough to pad your résumés, but not all the juniors have. You represent different aspects of our culture here at Lincoln and are leaders. I’d hoped that if I could get this group on board, you would convince the rest of the juniors to participate.”
In fact, this was a goal of mine, to make a difference.
“I’m in,” I said.
Alan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He knew if I wanted to do it, he had to.
“If David wants it done, I’m in,” Brit said, surprising me.
“What sort of projects have been done in the past?” I asked.
“You could organize to help with a home for Habitat for Humanity. You could rehabilitate a park that’s fallen into disrepair. Organize a fundraiser. Find a cause and get involved in some way. Senior living centers, orphanages, and homelessness are all good causes. Did you know the average age of a homeless person is nine? My senior class did a class mural on the side of the school,” Ms. Jaroslav suggested.
“Why don’t we come up with three ideas and send out a survey to all the juniors to see what they want to do?” Wolf suggested.
“How would we do that?” Ms. Jaroslav asked.
“I have all their email addresses and cell phone numbers. We could either do a text poll or email them one,” Alan said.
“How did you get that information?” she asked.
“I have access to the school’s data. I do their websites and maintain the databases.”
“But students shouldn’t have access to that kind of information,” Ms. Jaroslav complained.
“You can trust Alan. He understands what’ll happen if he abuses his privileges,” I said. “Plus, I have stuff to do, and I don’t need to worry about what Alan knows about right now. Everyone take the weekend and come up with ideas, and we’ll meet on Monday to decide which ones to send out.”
Ms. Jaroslav looked a little lost.
“Thanks for the pizza,” I said and stood up, and everyone followed me out.
I was excited about this. I was sure the junior class would do something great.
◊◊◊
When I arrived home, Kendal was there waiting for me.
“We didn’t sign you up with the NCAA. I need you to help me fill out their application. We can do it online.”
“I thought Tracy did it.”
“I got everything that Tracy had. She’d kept it all in boxes. I’ve spent the last two days sorting through it. You get a lot of mail,” Kendal observed.
“That’s why I hired you,” I shot back.
“No, Caryn hired me.”
“Bitch,” I mumbled.
“Dick,” she whispered back.
“I can hear you!” Mom called from the kitchen.
Kendal brought up the website, and we started filling out what the NCAA wanted. The first part was straightforward: name, address, etc. Then there were some questions concerning amateurism, and I started to get nervous.
“Do you know what all the rules are and what I should or shouldn’t tell them?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Is it bad that a Florida booster provided a private plane for me to go to a game? Before the game, I worked out for Florida. Would that be frowned upon? If I told them something like that without the right explanation, would it mess up my chances of playing college ball?”
“Maybe,” Kendal admitted.
