Page 31 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

Right.

DeAndria sighs, takes a step closer to me until she’s leaning on the island next to my textbook, and says, “Listen. Between you, me, and the wall, I’ve got some changes happening in my life. And if I tell you, you’ve got to promise to keep it to yourself. Okay?”

“You got it,” I reply, already knowing I’m going to tell Yennifer because duh, and also because there’s no one of consequence she would blab to.

“I’ve got a job offer. VP of Programming for a similar org out of Tampa.”

My eyes widen, but I smile, nonetheless. Losing DeAndria would be a big blow to mPOWER. She’s been here for almost ten years, working her way up from a volunteer to program director.

No one cares about mPOWER like she does.

“Congratulations!” I say, and she waves her hand in the air.

“I need a replacement, and I’d love for you to take my place.”

Well, if that isn’t a record scratch.

“Huh? I’m not even out of school yet, and grad school?—”

“I know,” she cuts in. “But can you tell me you want to go? Because every time I talk to you about it, you look a little green.”

My hands fly to my cheeks.

“Green?”

She laughs.

“Okay, not actually green, but you do look stressed even discussing it. I thought maybe you might want to do something different. Am I wrong?”

The middle of my back starts to sweat. Is she wrong?

Daddy’s face flashes before me. First, there’s the image I’ve focused on for the last several years—Daddy smiling broadly, joy radiating from him, when I receive my Harvard acceptance letter. But then it morphs into one of absolute disapproval.

Disapproval because I abandoned the plan in search of…what?

No. Of course DeAndria is wrong. She has to be.

“I don’t know, DeAndria. This feels…why do you think I should take over after you? When are you leaving for the job?”

“Not until late spring for the beginning of their fiscal year, so there’s lots of time to get ready. But as to why you? You have what’s needed to take mPOWER to new heights—and to help our clients realize and achieve their dreams. You’re talented at this, Shae, and if there’s anyone more deserving or more capable, I’ve yet to meet them.”

I don’t know why, but her words make me want to cry. There’s no denying that my heart fills in a way I don’t experience doing other things. The thought of trading stock futures doesn’t give me the same buzz that crafting business plans and mapping out actual routes to get there does.

But nonprofit work is often thankless and underpaid, and while I know money isn’t everything, I know it will drive my dad to fits if I were to put in all this work to struggle financially—even if it is for a good cause.

Success makes you undeniable. Money makes you bulletproof.

Could I really give up the security the path I’m on will bring in favor of something like this?

“Harvard has been my plan since I was a kid. I didn’t get in for undergrad, but I’m banking on the work I’ve done to get in for grad school. After that, it’s the New York Stock Exchange or Berkshire Hathaway, or….”

I trail off, because that sick feeling she described smacks me in the face and punches me in the gut at the same time.

“So…yeah,” I conclude.

DeAndria simply nods as I speak and spiral, and she doesn’t push.

I’m grateful as hell when my phone chirps, and flipping it over, I answer it on the second ring.

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