Page 4 of Ambition (Private 7)
smile, "and you have a deal." "Yes!" someone behind me cheered. The room erupted in conversation and squeaking chairs, but all I
could see was that number. Five million. A huge number. An impossible number. "We can do that, no problem," Vienna said, clap-
ping her hands happily. "Silence!" Headmaster Cromwell's voice boomed through the speakers once more. He got his silence. "There
is one stipulation," he said, looking at the Billings section. "This five million dollars must be raised, not gleaned from your trust funds
or borrowed from your parents. You must actually raise it, and you must raise it in one month's time. I will also be contacting the
Billings alumni and making it clear to them that they are not to help you with the preparations for whatever you conjure up. This
fundraiser will be planned by you and paid for by you, and any profit will be fairly earned. Is that understood?"
Suddenly, my friends were no longer cheering. I turned to look at them. They couldn't back out on me now. I'd gotten us a reprieve.
I'd taken a stand. Please don't make me look like an idiot now. Portia glanced at the Twin Cities. Vienna whispered something over
her shoulder to Shelby Wordsworth. Rose bent in conversation with Tiffany Goulbourne and Astrid Chou. Everyone conferred while I
stood there and waited. Finally, they all faced forward and Portia nodded confidently. I faced the board, looked Cromwell in the eye,
and smiled. "Done."
NEW FOCUS
"Reed, seriously, have you ever considered a career as a politician?" Tiffany asked as we emerged from Mitchell Hall into the
crisp, cold New England air. The sky over Easton Academy was a shade of blue so bright it looked almost fake, and orange and yel-
low leaves chased one another across the cobblestone path in front of us. Tiffany wrapped her white coat closer to her tall body and
flipped up the collar so that it grazed the smooth ebony skin of her cheeks. How could she look so perfect today, when I felt as if I had
been run over repeatedly by a monster truck? "Um, no," I replied.
"Well, maybe you should." Astrid nudged me with her elbow as the wind tossed her short dark hair. She wore a colorful plaid skirt
over hot pink tights and purple shoes, her eye makeup colors chosen to match her lower half. "That was bloody brilliant." "Amazing,"
Sabine agreed with sheer admiration in her eyes. "Headmaster Cromwell didn't see that coming at all." "Agreed. If you pull this off,
you will go down in history as the president who saved Billings," Shelby said. Her leather-gloved fingers moved swiftly over her
iPhone's touch pad as she checked for texts. Shelby had a sophisticated air that made her seem like she was in her mid-twenties instead
of her late teens. She wore a double-breasted brown tweed coat; her blond hair hung in loose waves around her face; and she held her
chin slightly up, as if her photo might be snapped at any moment.
"Yeah, or the last," Missy Thurber put in with a sniff of her wide nostrils. Her comment earned her a whack on the back of her
blond head from Portia. "Ow! Was that necessary?" "Neg the neg," Portia ordered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her cropped
fur jacket. "We need positive thinking from here on out, right, Reed?" "Exactly," I said with a nod. I decided right then and there that I
was going to be Shelby's version of a Billings president rather than Missy's. From now on, I would focus all my energy on this fund-
raiser and on saving Billings.
