Page 99 of Hate You, Maybe
“No, no.” Sayla shakes her head. “What they did for us was extremely helpful. Dex and I made so much progress there. We’ve been able to work together so well these past few weeks because of Camp Reboot. So thank you very much, sir, for encouraging us to go.”
“Well, you’re welcome, of course,” Wilford says. “And I’m glad you think the retreat was a help, Ms. Kroft.” He adjusts his tie. “I must admit, that makes this moment a little bit easier for me.”
I draw in a breath, preparing to act like the grant going to performing arts is news to me. Wilford has no idea I already spilled the beans to Sayla, so finally having this out in the open will be a major relief.
“On the other hand,” Wilford continues, darting his gaze between Sayla and me, “one of you will leave here disappointed. And I wish that weren’t the case. Nevertheless, I want to assure you both that all hope is not lost. Yes, this grant will be a tremendous boon to one of your departments. And we may not receive another FRIG this large for several more years. But we will make do. We always do.” He takes a beat. “So without further ado …”
I glance at Sayla, and her lips part in anticipation.
“The FRIG goes to the athletic department,” Wilford says.
Oh, frig.
Chapter Thirty
Sayla
“I’ll take one more of your delicious wines, please.”
My request comes out a little slushy, but the haze from the Chardonnay is just what I need right now. And besides, I’ve only had two wines so far. I think. I’m not usually a drinker, but it isn’t every night you have your dreams ripped out from under you. Dreams the man you were starting to care about promised would come true.
“This one tastes so buttery,” I say, pointing to the empty glass in front of me. “Is it supposed to be buttery?”
The woman behind the bar stops wiping the sticky rings along the counter. She’s got her red hair wrangled in a bun and a diamond stud in her nose. “I’m not sure a third glass is a good idea.”
See? Three. I knew I could count.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “How many until I forget?”
“Forget what?” the bartender asks.
I splay my hands, triumphant. “Exactly.”
Too bad I still remember everything.
I remember sitting in Mr. Wilford’s office, thinkingthis can’t be happening.
I remember the look of shock on Dexter’s face.
I remember Mr. Wilford explaining himself before I fled his office.
He said both Dex and I had made strong arguments, which is why he’d been on the fence for so long. That is until the activities director, Polly Warner, met with him to plead the case for the athletics department. Apparently, Polly pushed hard for the gym renovation based on the fact that her department also uses that space. For assemblies and pep rallies, plus fundraising events and other stuff like that. I guess she was convincing.
But I can be convincing, too.
So I pointed out that Polly could host all those same things in the theater once the building was redone. Which is when Mr. Wilford stopped me. He told me how impressed he was by all my hard work. Not just over the past month, but ever since I came to Stony Peak.
Yeah, right.
I sat there blinking back tears, hearing all about how the performing arts department is so deserving. But then he summarized everything with this little nugget: Dexter and his department “just need the funding more.”
According to Wilford, a school like Stony Peak can’t survive without its sports. Their booster clubs and fundraisers and tickets and concession stands flat-out bring in more money than all our concerts and plays. And to keep that influx of money going, the athletic department needs—wait for it—more money.
Pfft.
I kept waiting for Dexter to tell Mr. Wilford he’s transferring to Harvest High. When he didn’t, I almost blurted thenews out myself. Now I’ll never know if Dex’s leaving would’ve swayed Mr. Wilford. But I don’t want to win like that. And doingwhatever it takesdoes not include betraying Dex’s confidence.
Instead, I let my entire department down.
