THE STUDENT COUNCIL
Chapter 12

Only two businesses occupied the Allegheny Mall, which stood like a nearly deserted island in a sea of vacant pavement. Pizzarama occupied the space at the far north end of the long building. Due to marketing efforts, low prices, and speedy deliveries, the pizza shop survived despite serving an ordinary product. Most residents rated Pizzarama’s pies third among five local options. The fact that the business was owned and operated by two Korean families wasn’t a selling point either, at least not with the older generation. Like in many rural towns, the melting pot was still only lukewarm.

The second enterprise was an aerobics and dance studio. Given that sixty-three percent of area adults were officially overweight, the wooden floor and rubber mats at Forever Fit probably should have been busier. Then again, there was a reason that percentage wasn’t dropping.

The mall was barely a mile from Millionaire Row, an easy, level walk, but the four best friends rode in William’s car. Based on conversation during the two-minute drive, Amy knew Paul would favor any school option that didn’t disrupt his routine; morning football practice was out of the question. Google was intrigued by the idea of a new home for the high school, but highly skeptical. He cited half a dozen reasons that a move to the mall was impossible. William wanted to believe, but craved high-powered ammunition to support such a bold proposal. He didn’t want to seem like a fool to his father or Miss Berman.

Crawling out of the cramped front passenger seat, Paul asked, “How’s everybody going to make it to our Friday night games if they’re stuck in school?”

“Games could be rescheduled to Saturday,” Google suggested.

William laughed. “I’ll tell you one thing, if students had to miss a football game, either home or away, I’d lead a damn strike!”

Amy’s ears perked up. A student strike? What an interesting possibility. If the student council ever asked the kids to boycott school, most would do it in a second. They wouldn’t have to believe in the cause necessarily, or even give a shit one way or the other. A strike would seem like fun.

“This might all sound crazy,” Amy said, letting William lead the way down the sidewalk in front of the building, “but William’s ideas about computer-based education got me thinking.”

She checked Google’s face for a reaction. He knew the concept was a product of discussion between the two of them, that William didn’t give a rat’s ass.

Google returned her look and winked. He was always Amy’s ally when it came to messing with William. The two of them had been doing it for years.

Amy continued. “There are twenty-one empty retail spaces here, twenty-two if we count Forever Fit. They’ve been trying to end their lease for a while now. If most of those were used for desks with computers, we could accommodate the entire student body. Instead of moving from class to class, everyone would stay at their own computer the majority of the time. Most subjects would be taught with the newest software. That’s been proven to result in higher test scores, so where’s the room to argue?” She slid a master key into the door of a space that once featured nutritional supplements. VitaWorld had been the first businesses to fail after Greenstone Groceries folded.

“Amy, you know I believe in William’s concept,” Google said. “That’s the way all high schools will be in another ten years. But it can’t be accomplished with a snap of the fingers. Our school’s curriculum has already been approved by the state.”

Amy expected good questions from Google. He was the one who would have to be convinced. He and perhaps Trisha Berman. She said, “Three or four different brands of software have already been approved for charter schools in the state. If we choose one of those, we could get a rubber stamp.” Maybe?

William nodded. “Googs, wait with your questions. I want to hear Amy’s ideas first. There’s potential here.”

“Every space has a bathroom,” Amy went on. “A toilet and a sink. Forever Fit has shower rooms. The huge grocery store area has three separate bathrooms. There are more toilets than we had in the old school, not counting the gym.”

“And we still have the old gym,” Paul interrupted. “The fire didn’t touch it. Basketball season shouldn’t be affected.” The Barn Door wore number 13 on his hoops uniform. He played mostly for the conditioning, but was second in the state in rebounding last season. Unfortunately, he couldn’t put a ball in a basket to save a life. On the rare occasions he did score, every Oil City fan stood and cheered - even those listening on the radio at home.

Amy walked the length of the front room of the former vitamin store. “We could easily put ten desks along each of the side walls. Another two lines could go down the center, facing each other. There’s room for at least forty.”

William nodded rapidly, revving up. “Running wires and cables doesn’t seem like a big deal. It could happen quickly.”

“Only need to plug into electricity,” Google corrected. “Everything’s wireless.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Where do you get all the desks and computers?” Paul asked. “That’s ten times more computers than we had in the high school.”

William looked to Google. “What are we talking for cost on desktops?”

“Solid and reliable? Figure six hundred each. Three hundred and sixty thousand.”

Amy shook off the number. “The school district has access to money, but the computers should be free or close to it. Think for a second. We just lost a school and everything in it. Total sympathy. The student council wants to stand up, be progressive, and make school a better place to learn. Private foundations are going to want to help, especially if Google does his magic on the council’s website and Facebook page.” She turned to the internet whiz. “How many hits on those pages already today?” She knew he hadn’t checked yet. He would have said something.

Google rubbed his eyes. “I was at the school until five this morning, watching the firemen. William woke me up to come over here. I haven’t even checked my email.” He pulled his iPhone from a case on his belt. “Holy shit! Four hundred and eleven thousand likes on Facebook!”

William shot Amy an astonished look. The story was as big as she suggested. “I should call a special student council meeting for tonight. We need to take an official position against the move to the middle school.”

Amy asked, “Can I show you more?”

“Please,” all three boys answered.

She led them to the vast, high-ceilinged space at the south end of the mall. “This is what can make it all work: our multi-purpose room. You know how our gym has the huge curtain that can divide it in half?” The others nodded. “I see a network of those. We should be able to divide this up whenever we want, maybe into as many as eight separate rooms. Computer-based education is great for most subjects, but some need to be personalized. We also need spots for band and choir, theater, whatever. They’re all right here! If we have the curtains and lots of folding chairs, we can mix and match this for anything we need.”

“That’s genius,” Paul exclaimed. “This room could be anything. We could build a stage for bands and have dances. We could have pep rallies in here!”

“I’m completely sold,” William said. “Then again, I’m also a bit of a dumb shit. I need to know what all the critics and detractors would say. You know damn well the school board wants no part of this. My dad says they always do the easiest thing.”

“You’re very wise,” Amy assured him, patting his back. “Google, why don’t you attack this idea with every argument you can think of?”

“Cost is always first,” he snapped. “Not having the money is a conversation-stopper.”

William responded at once. “That I can handle. There has to be insurance from the fire, right? There’s also money for furniture and equipment in the new school funding ... at least if that’s approved right away. The district also has over three million sitting in a Rainy Day account. Let’s face it. We just had a cloudburst!”

“Noble, how do you know all that?” Paul asked. “When you said you were a dumb shit, I was in total agreement.”

Google stole the question. “That’s not rocket science, Barner. It’s called paying attention to something other than lifting weights. His father’s on the school board.”

He pointed a finger at William. “Utility costs! The middle school is already heated. Why heat another building?”

William laughed. “We’re supposed to be heating a high school! Utilities are already in the budget. There just wouldn’t be any savings.”

Google thrust a finger at the council president again. “Aha! No cafeteria. How are student lunches going to be served? Half the kids get free lunches.”

William lifted his own finger, the middle digit. “Screw the lunch program. It’s garbage. Half the food gets thrown out anyway. Seriously, is there really anyone who couldn’t slap together a peanut butter sandwich and bring it to school? Aren’t high school kids supposed to be learning responsibility?”

Amy jumped in. “Wrong answer, William. You’re a humble and thoughtful leader. You have to show that. Come see what’s in back.”

She led the others through the former vegetable section, toward swinging doors at the rear. “There’s a giant walk-in freezer back here. A cooler too. They were left intact because they’re built-ins. Same goes for all those utility sinks over there.” She tipped her head toward them. “Your answer to lunches should be something like: ‘We could look at modifying it to a cold lunch program, nutritional sandwiches and salads.’”

Paul chuckled. “You guys can eat sprouts and tomatoes on whole wheat if you want. Most of the kids will be hitting Pizzarama! Can you imagine the business they’d do?”

“I hate to admit this,” Google said, “but the pizza shop might be the top selling point for the kids. How many high schools have something like that in their building?”

“How many high school students have their very own computer to use all day?” Amy asked. “That’s what everyone will love. I was thinking we could leave classrooms open until eight at night. If students come to school on time and keep up with their work, they can use their computer for games and social media after school.”

William looked up at Paul. “Are you a believer in this radical plan? Could you sell it to the council and student body?”

“It sells itself,” Paul replied. “A high school in a mall? The kids will love the idea. It’s everyone else that’ll be a problem. The school board would shit at the very suggestion.”

“Then we provide the toilet paper,” William said, glancing at Amy. “This is Oil City’s moment in history. Once the school board and superintendent realize their names will be in national headlines as forward-looking leaders, they’ll stand with us.”

Google coughed. “I think you’re wrong about even the student body being all that supportive. Lots of them love the idea of night school. William, you were fexcited about it yourself.”

“No morning football practice,” Paul said firmly. “I won’t stand for it.”

“Rule Seventy-Three,” William nodded. “I’m calling a council meeting for tonight. The school board is meeting at seven and so will we. Amy, could we meet right here?”

“Only the council itself. I’ll give you the key. Don’t forget to have a resolution all printed out, ready to pass. And be sure to appoint your executive committee.”

William grabbed Google’s shoulder. “We better get busy, lots to do. Let’s all head over to your basement.”

“I’ve got practice,” Paul said. “I’ll be here for the meeting tonight.”

“I think better on my own,” Amy added. “I’ll draft your resolution and email it to Google. I like all your ideas though. You guys are amazing. Remember to invite Miss Berman so it will be official.”

As they returned to William’s car, Google asked, “Amy, are you sure your father’s willing to donate the mall for us to use? That seems overly generous to me. Hell, there’s sure to be lots of wear and tear.”

“It’s sitting here serving no purpose,” she assured him. “If everyone supports the idea of moving the school here, I’m sure the details can be worked out.” And the devil’s in the details, she thought. But first things first.

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