Page 83 of Dropping the Ball

After about a minute, he whispers, “Are you thinking about pee?”

“DAGNABBIT, Micah.” My eyes fly open.

“I’m just saying, since that and failure are on your mind, and you don’t want to talk about failure . . .”

“I don’t want to talk about anything.”

He nods. I close my eyes again and try to think dry thoughts.

Soon he starts humming, but it’s muted, and he can follow a melody, even if he doesn’t stick with any of them for longer than a verse. “Umbrella” by Rihanna. “Fire and Rain” by an oldies singer. When it turns into “Water Under the Bridge” by Adele, I whip my head to glare at him.

He smiles. “You know how to make it stop.”

“Beat you with my shoe?”

He hums “Riptide.”

“Stop.”

He hums louder.

“Fine, Micah! Fine. Everything for the gala is going perfectly, except for the part I’m in charge of. I’m supposed to lock down all the big auction items that will bring in the cash, and I can’t.”

“I need context. Is this a Kaitlyn Armstrong fail where you are upset with an A-?”

“F, Micah. This is an F. I have tried and tried, and I—” My voice catches. I swallow and force myself to say it. “I can’t.”

“You locked down the Juarez chandelier. That’s impressive.”

I pull my legs up, tuck my dress, and settle my forehead on my knees. “We’ll show a small profit. The entertainment is amazing. Everyone will be blown away by the food and venue. We’ll probably clear enough to cover a year of expanded classes at Marigold. But when it’s time for the auction, everyone is going to realize how bad I whiffed this. Only they won’t know it’s me. They’ll see thatThreadworkwhiffed it. But my parents will know. And Madison will know. And everyone will pity and judge them for not being able to pull off what the other majororganizations around here do, and they’ll have to share the humiliation, even though none of that is their fault.”

“The meeting you’re missing, it would have changed all that?”

I shake my head. “I convinced myself it would. That somehow, this time, I would have the right words when I’ve never had them before.” I hug my legs more tightly to my chest. “Whatever it is that makes people fall all over themselves to say yes to Madison, I don’t have it.”

He rests a hand on my back, below my shoulder blade, well above my waist. It’s not a touch that’s asking for anything. It’s a touch that saysI’m here.

“Based on six months of working with Madison, I can tell you exactly what she has that you don’t.”

Just what every girl wants to hear. “Can’t wait.”

“She has no respect for boundaries.”

I consider that for a second before turning my head enough to study him out of one eye.

“Tell me it’s not true,” he says. “That woman will charge in and flatten all objections if she wants something.”

My mouth twitches. “It’s true.”

“There are pluses to Madison trespassing through any marked fence she wants to. And there are pluses to you always being mindful of them. You can compare the differences, but you can’t assign either philosophy a higher value.”

“You can in dollars. Because Madison would have gotten every auction item she needed. She’d be turning people away. Like no, sorry, we can’t accept your offer of a Super Bowl suite catered by Carmen Berzatto. Ask again next year.”

“Maybe the problem is trying to do it her way?”

I shrug. I’ve already explained the problem: not being Madison.

He withdraws his hand. I want it back.

---