Page 10 of Give Me a Shot

“Don’t forget I’m on the league board,” he said.

“So you should have put a stop to this nonsense.”

“Come on, it’s not nonsense. They really want to show their appreciation, and think of how much fun the kids will have—aparty. Kids love parties, even though Curmudgeon Brother never did.”

Mo scowled and crossed his arm over himself again.

“What do I have to do?” he grumbled.

Khalil chuckled.

“Just show up, make a little small talk—”

Mo didn’t restrain his loud groan.

“I know, I know. Just a little small talk, have dinner, and receive your award. Then come hang out with me while Mads tears up the dance floor with the other kids.”

“There’s an award? Like a little plaque or something? Please don’t tell me I have to go up on a stage.”

“Well…”

Mo tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. He leaned forward and rested his elbow on the coffee table, plopping his forehead into his flattened palm.

“Look,” Khalil said. “I’ll see what I can do about the awards. But this is a good thing, I promise. It’s fostering a sense of community. And as much as you hate being the center of attention, I know community is important to you.”

Mo groaned again.

“Come on, say you’ll do it,” Khalil said. “For the kids. For the parents. For Mads to go to a party on a Saturday night?”

Mo rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said.

“Great,” Khalil said, with his ever-excited-about-everything tone. “Thanks so much, man. I’ll get Maddie to the orthodontist on Thursday and let you know asap about the banquet.”

“Mmkay,” Mo said, forehead still on his hand.

“Knew I could count on you. Talk soon,” Khalil said and hung up the phone.

Mo slid his onto the table and sat up slowly.

A sense of community.Khalil wasn’t wrong. Community was important to him. Just…not being in the middle of it. Being the center of attention went completely against the calm, quiet life he needed to maintain. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand down his beard.The parents will be happy, the kids will be happy. Maddie will havefun.That was also important.Guess Khalil is right; he can count on me.Mo stood. Heading for the fridge, he remembered who else said they hoped to count on him. Wendy and the others needed him to accept that blacksmithing would be a key draw for the Renaissance Faire. And apparently, they expected him to take a visible role in it.

Why can’t I just help prepare? We’ve got several students who could be the face.

He groaned, opening the fridge door. An event like a banquet was always difficult and draining. He’d have to spend the following day on the couch recuperating from “people-ing” with near-strangers for several hours. This Faire business would be worse.

Aren’t those things several days at a time? Complete disruption, rather than calm and stable—the way I need things to be.

But Mo loved the School too much not to be actively involved in trying to save it. Even if it killed him to try. He sighed.

The School could count on him, too.

Chapter Four

Jess

Returning to her office from lunch with the dean, Jess felt her phone begin buzzing away in her pocket. She slid it onto her desk, but she didn’t recognize the number and let the call go to voicemail as she shook the mouse to wake up her computer. When the notification popped up, she listened to the message on speaker.

“Hi? Jess? This is Wendy Davis, the president of the Folk School. We met briefly on Saturday. We’re having an organizational meeting about the Renaissance Faire this evening and after speaking with Ned, I was hoping that you could join us. I’m swamped today so you can just text me to confirm if you can make it tonight at seven. At the School. Thanks.”

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