THE STUDENT COUNCIL
Chapter 21

Google sat alone in the conference room. The day’s meeting had ended at five, allowing everyone time for supper and the drive to Titusville for the seven o’clock kickoff. Paul had left at three to join the team. William was a dinner guest of the Cornell delegation, which seemed to regard him as royalty. He’d insisted that Berman accompany them. Afterward, they were all going to the game together. In all the excitement, Google had been left behind.

Hoping his omission was an oversight, not a slight, he stared in reverence at the color-coded flow chart on the front wall. Every imaginable step to converting the mall into a school was listed, each with a timeline. Could Oil City have a new high school and education delivery system overnight? No. But it could happen in ten to fourteen days! Looking to the wall on his right, he saw the floor plan for the entire mall, blown up to an impressive four by sixteen feet. It was all the handiwork of the Ivy Leaguers.

After receiving a late night call from Gwen Simpson, the professor and two graduate assistants had gone to work immediately. They hit the highway at five a.m. The four and a half-hour drive from Ithaca had been a brainstorming session. Upon arrival, they had inspected the Allegheny Mall with the principal, superintendent, and Mrs. Simpson.

Furnishing the mall was a simple matter, according to them. Taking on donated desks and chairs was deemed out of the question. That whole process would be not only cumbersome and time-consuming, but result in a “hodge-podge of mismatched inefficiency.” The plan was to order six hundred and eighty file cabinets, the same number of durable swivel chairs, and three hundred and forty matching formica counter tops, each eight feet long. The counter tops would rest on the cabinets to create desk space for each student’s monitor and keyboard. Each of seventeen rooms would house forty students, with additional space for traditional desks and chairs for two teachers. The student work stations would cost less than three hundred dollars each.

Half a dozen hands had shot up in response, including Google’s own. The school enrollment was less than six hundred. Why make accommodation for six-eighty?

The professor’s answer was both surprising and inspired. “You’re going to want the flexibility to move some middle school students over there. You’ll have those that are struggling in a traditional environment and could benefit from the change. Then there are your overachievers, the ones who are being held back in a normal classroom. And of course there will be new enrollees, students that move into your district just to attend this school. I’ll talk more about all that tomorrow.”

Google had emailed NuTek immediately. Did they have seven hundred and twenty computers to donate? Enough for all the students and faculty? The answer arrived within twenty minutes. No problem. We can have them there by Thursday.

Superintendent Adams had asked about laptop computers as an option. Wouldn’t students be better served by a computer they could take home at night? The professor called it an excellent question – before destroying the concept from every angle. Loss and breakage came first. Then the prospect that some students might be inclined to sell or trade them for alcohol or drugs. From a purely educational standpoint, portable computers might actually discourage attendance; some students would choose to study on their own. Ideally, the new school days would be so focused and productive that students wouldn’t need computers at night.

Google helped himself to a stale sandwich from the food table. The idea of dinner conversation with the Cornell gang was appealing. One of the grad students was an interesting lady, even attractive in an Amy kind of way. Thinking of Miss Westin, he grabbed his phone.

She answered instantly. “S’up?”

Google looked at his phone hand. Shaking! What the hell? He’d known Amy half his life. “I’m wondering if I can take you to the game tonight.”

“You know that’s a family thing for me. Aren’t you going with William?”

“Nah. He went off with the Cornell people. Miss Berman too.”

“What? You’re ’sposed to be babysitting, keeping him from getting off track.”

“Like I said, Berman’s with him. Besides, the Cornell people love his ass. You ready for this? The professor said William might be known as the Father of Modern Public Education someday, the Wonder Boy who got us out of the Dark Ages.”

“That’s so cute! How’s Berman been doing?”

“Mostly quiet and taking notes. She came up with one good idea. Something about creating a special fund to pay for online college classes for the best and brightest. You know, students like us.” He laughed at his observation.

Amy didn’t. “Be at my house at six-fifteen. You can go to the game with us.”

“One more thing,” he added. “It just hit me a minute ago ... for like the first time. This school’s really gonna fappen, Amy. You did it!”

Amy found her mother in her dressing room, sitting at the vanity, applying dark red lipstick. “Mom, you look awesome! I see some Gwen Stefani going on.” Overdone for a football game, Amy thought, but spin-heads-around pretty.

Emily spoke to her daughter’s image in the mirror. “Your father will be home at six. I won’t be going to the game. I’m letting the two of you have a night together.”

Amy froze. Unthinkable! After years of attending every game as a family, mother had other plans? Had to be Roger Cooper. That damn dingo! Hell, he wasn’t even a dingo. Dingoes actually lived in Australia. Roger Cooper was a dingbat. The tide should be turning, but it wasn’t. Had Earth drifted out of orbit?

It was time to be direct. Sort of. “Mother, together is all three of us. Dad plus me is together minus one. What’s going on with you two?”

Emily turned to face her. “Amy, what do you think about all these new school plans? This is going to be a big change for you.”

“Did you forget the question?” her daughter asked. “I’m more concerned about changes in you. The business is looking up. You two should be laughing again.” Amy watched her mother look away, back to the mirror. Her eyes could be evasive like that – nothing like Trisha Berman’s.

Emily fluffed her hair with her fingertips. “Your father and I have been working long hours the last couple days. We could use an evening apart, that’s all.”

Amy tried to make eye contact with her mother’s reflection. Failed even that. “You’ve been at the office while he’s on the job site. You probably spoke on the phone a couple times.”

Emily plucked a tissue from a flowered dispenser and dabbed at an eye. “Things aren’t always perfect in relationships. You’ll have a boyfriend one of these days. Then you’ll understand.”

Fireworks went off in Amy’s head. She could steal her mother from the dingbat tonight! “I’ve invited a boy to go with us to the game. We’re going out after.”

Emily’s eyeballs over-inflated. “What? Who is it? Someone I know?”

Amy tried not to laugh. Those eyes! Like a cartoon character. “He’s new in town. Moved here from Titusville. Looks like a movie star.”

Game, set and match. She had her mother in the palm of her hand. Now Emily wouldn’t skip the game for anything. Amy purred, “I was wondering. Could you do my hair and maybe glam me up?”

“Wha ... wha ... what time is it?” Emily stuttered, glancing at her watch. “Five-thirty. Jump right in my shower. Use my shampoo and conditioner. Don’t be long. I’ll need fifteen minutes.” She squinted at her daughter’s hair. “Maybe twenty.”

With her hair and makeup complete and her mother beaming, Amy moved on to wardrobe - her sister Sadie’s closet – to complete her transformation. The plan was to change Cow Pie’s image with a single arm-in-arm circuit around the field.

The elder Westin sister would always be remembered in Oil City, and not just for changing the high school nickname. She was the girl every boy chased - and many caught. She was no impossible dream. Her dresser and closet were full of nothing but boy bait.

Amy selected a bra with more lift than a Westin Construction loader. Hello, boobs! She wore it beneath a black tank top with a plunging scoop neckline. Her sister’s pre-ripped skinny-jeans cut off half her circulation, but the look was worth it. The five-inch heels on knee-high, black fashion boots would test her athleticism just to walk. The final touch was a white blouse with gem buttons. By wearing it open and hanging, she could conceal a plump butt. While seven pounds had disappeared over the last ten days, that process was only beginning. On the plus side, a pound of the weight loss had come off her face. Her mother had accentuated that by popping her eyes and lips with cosmetic trickery. With longer and lighter hair, she might pass for Sadie at a distance.

As Amy headed down the stairs, clutching the railing as a precaution, Emily rushed up to meet her. Seeing her daughter in Sadie’s clothes, she had to grab the railing herself.

Amy spoke because her mother couldn’t. “I know, I know. This is a new look for me. The adults will see a hooker, but the kids will see a rock star.”

Her mother chuckled. “Not just any hooker. We’re looking at big bucks.”

Amy laughed along. Her mother had always been sweet and funny. It was hard to stay angry at her.

As Amy drew closer, Emily gaped at her chest. The cartoon eyes again. “Mother, please don’t stare. That’s creepy. Didn’t you know I had breasts?”

“Not like that! Anyway, Sam Runsfeld just arrived. He’s hardly a new boy in town.”

Amy smiled. “I love Googs, but he’s not the boy. We’re picking up Fred on the way.”

Google was waiting in the kitchen. The loud click of heels on oak flooring preannounced Amy’s arrival, but didn’t prepare him for the shock. He stared for a moment, then covered his face and staggered backward, collapsing in a chair.

Emily said, “Sam, you look like you saw a ghost.”

“Boooo!” Amy exclaimed.

Peeking between his fingers, Google couldn’t believe the view. This was the same Amy he’d always known? It couldn’t be. Just couldn’t. She looked ten years older. And so tall. And so completely beyond his reach.

Grant Westin opened the back door and saw Amy’s friend first. “Google! How’s it going?”

Then his daughter. “Sadie! What a surprise! What have you done with your hair?” He rushed over and hugged her. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Dad, this is Ames,” she whispered.

He stepped back and took another look. He glanced at his wife, who nodded confirmation. Shaking his head, he turned back to his younger daughter. “Ames, what happened to my little baseball player?”

“I’m still your favorite son ... just doing a little cross-dressing.”

“I’ve always thought you were the prettiest girl in the world.”

“I know that, but tonight I’m pure Sadie.”

Emily tossed her car keys at her husband. “You can exchange sweet talk in the car. We’re going to be late if we don’t fly.”

“You’re coming with us?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a family tradition. And we’re picking up Amy’s new boyfriend.”

On the short ride to Fred’s foster home, Google tried not to stare at the siren sitting next to him. He wanted to share every detail from the meeting, tap her for new ideas, and basically have her to himself. Her father did all the talking instead.

“This whole mall lease came right out of the blue,” he told his wife. “When you made me talk about it with the Noble boy a couple days ago, I thought it was pure fiction. Then Gwen Simpson borrowed the keys this morning. At three o’clock the district business manager brought me a lease to sign! I went straight to the bank with our attorney. They reviewed it for fifteen minutes ... that’s all. They said go for it as long as all lease payments come directly to them. Can you believe it? They even thanked me for helping the kids! I signed it and dropped it off with the school district.

“But that was only the beginning. I was working over at the gym and got a call from Rachel Adams. That’s why I was late getting home. The state approved a sole source contract for building the new high school. She’s going to show us paperwork in a couple days! This is ...”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Amy called out. “We just passed Fred’s house.”

Grant backed up and Amy hopped out. “His name’s Fred Waltz. Like the dance. He’s sitting there on the steps.”

Fred glanced over and she waved. He turned his head and went back to waiting for his ride.

She yelled, “It’s me, Fred! Hurry up.”

He pushed himself up and trotted to the car. “I didn’t recognize you, Amy.”

“Aren’t you looking handsome,” she replied. After a quick visit in the morning, she had sent him to Supercuts with seventeen dollars from her September allowance and written instructions for the stylist. His hair was gorgeous. Short on the sides and tall on top. His outfit nearly matched her own. He wore a black T-shirt beneath an open white dress shirt, the long sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

Amy pushed up her chin with two fingers, a signal he now understood. Keep the mouth closed! Keep reminding yourself, Fred. No leaving your mouth hanging open. It’s all about concentration.

After Fred took the center of the Explorer’s back seat, Amy slid in and introduced him around. She thought her mother might stare holes in the poor boy.

“Fred, I have shirts just like that,” Grant laughed, glancing at Amy. “The same exact monogram on the pocket. GW.”

Fred said, “Wow. Must be the same brand. As Grant pulled away from the curb, Emily began the interrogation. “So, Fred, tell us about your family. What brought you to Oil City?”

“One second,” Amy said. “I have to tell him something before I forget. Fred, when we were talking earlier, you asked me about my favorite family vacation ever. It had to be our trip to the Grand Canyon. So amazing.”

Emily opened her mouth in surprise. “Amy, you were only three! I can’t believe you even remember that.”

“Oh, I do. I’d like to visit every National Park in the whole country.”

Her father chuckled. “That’d be a long trip. There must be at least twenty.”

Fred had been in a trance, staring at Amy. She woke him with an elbow and said, “I’ll bet there are more National Parks than that. I’d say there’s at least thirty.”

“Fifty-eight,” Fred corrected. “Nine in California alone. Alaska is next with eight. Five in Utah.”

“You’re incredible, Fred,” Amy exclaimed. “Like a library on two feet. How many parks can you name?”

“Well, all of ’em.”

Google had been sulking in his seat. He suddenly sat up straight. “That’s BS!” Emily glared at him. “Sorry, Missus Westin. I won’t swear again. Promise.”

He turned back to Fred. “Nobody can do that! It’s almost impossible for a person to name even all fifty states without looking at a fap.”

“What’s a fap?” Emily asked.

“A map!” Google repeated, growing more agitated. “Fred, I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can name all the parks. Hell, five hundred!”

Fred nodded. “You want them alphabetically, chronologically, or east to west?”

Googs doubled over in laughter. “You had me going there, Waltz! You were screwing with us. That’s pretty funny.”

Amy said, “How about chronological? That would seem like the hardest.”

“Okay,” Fred agreed, closing his eyes. “You’ve got Yellowstone in eighteen seventy-two, followed by Sequoia in eighteen ninety ...” Because he shared interesting details about most of them, the list dragged on all the way to Titusville.

After Fred finished with Congaree Park in South Carolina, 2003, Grant stared at the hotshot in his rearview mirror. “I have to admit that when Google called BS, I was thinking it. Can you name every country in the world too?”

Traffic was backed up in the proximity of the field. The game was five minutes away and Grant couldn’t find parking. Amy cursed herself for not considering the possibility. All the publicity for Oil City had its downside.

Google offered a solution. The rest of the group could hurry to the field while he searched for a place to park. There were no objections. Amy sensed her best friend was a little out of sorts. Her game of dress up seemed to upset him. She would explain it away later.

The ticket line was half a block long. Emily asked the men to stand and wait while she walked around with Amy.

“Fred’s so smart,” Emily gushed. “Is he a genius or something?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Amy admitted. “I’m pretending. It’s for his social advancement, that’s all. He’s having trouble making friends. It’s just for tonight.”

Her mother wagged her head. “You could have told me earlier.”

“What? And deprive you of all the fun you had thinking about it?”

“I did enjoy getting you ready. You look wonderful ... at least your hair and face!” They laughed and Emily stood on tiptoes to kiss her little girl’s forehead. “You’re getting so tall all the sudden.”

When Grant finally secured five tickets, Google still hadn’t appeared. Amy sent her parents inside and called him on the phone. “Get over here. I have your ticket.”

“I couldn’t find parking. I’ll just listen on the car radio and pick you up after.”

“Really? Then why I have I seen you standing right over there for the last five minutes? Right beside that yellow van.” She waved to him.

“Forgot you had feagle eyes.”

“Get over here! I know you don’t like my costume, but this is my Halloween.”

When Googs sheepishly arrived, he asked Fred, “How’d you do that trick with the parks?”

Fred grinned. “It’s not that hard when it’s all you know. A scientist can probably name every element and its properties. I want to be a park ranger.”

“And he wants to be a computer whiz too,” Amy added. “That’s where you can help, Mister Google It. He’s never owned one. Don’t you have an old one he can have?”

Google studied the park ranger. “You might think that remembering all that park stuff is easy. Truth is, what you did was incredible. Tell you what. Study the states. As soon as you can list all fifty for me, along with their years of statehood, I’ll give you a perfectly good laptop. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Amy’s parents were waiting beyond the gate. Only helmets were visible above the standing-room-only crowd, but the scoreboard read: Oil City 12, Titusville 0. Amy winced at the missed extra points. The blame was on the coach. His son couldn’t kick for shit but he kept sending him out there.

As the five made their way through the sea of bodies, Amy clung to Fred’s elbow, doing her best arm candy impression. Looking foxy was a challenge. The lipstick left a nasty taste in her mouth. The eye shadow made every blink a chore. Still, she attracted stares from everyone, both male and female. Many were classmates, but none showed a hint of recognition. While she wasn’t popular at school, everyone knew who she was. A girl couldn’t have lunch with Paul Barner every day without being noticed.

Amy’s favorite face suddenly appeared in the crowd ahead. The teacher’s eyes seemed to lock right on her, in both recognition and surprise. Amy lifted a hand to wave, but Trisha vanished. Only William stood there, waving to Google.

Rushing over, the council head asked, “Why didn’t you come with us to dinner?”

“Nobody invited me,” Google answered. “I went to the restroom, came back, and you were gone.”

Amy said, “Good evening, Mister Noble.”

William looked at the lady with the familiar voice. His eyebrows jumped halfway to his hairline. “Get ... out ... of ... here!”

She laughed at the reaction. “We’ll meet at Google’s later. Ten o’clock. There’s lots to talk about.”

After the game, Amy stared at the stranger in her bathroom mirror, and waved goodbye. After a few swipes with a damp washcloth, the mask was gone. The boys would think more clearly without the distraction.

The people from Cornell were a godsend. Based on Google’s reports, they were doing everything right. Adding eighty computer stations was brilliant. Her eyes watered just thinking about it. The building and organization were in capable hands, leaving hers free to dabble elsewhere. If only she could shake the clutter from her mind.

Why couldn’t her parents make things right again? They didn’t speak to each other all night.

Why weren’t they celebrating salvation? The building contract was theirs, at least a three million profit if all went well. The weight of losing the mall was off their shoulders, at least for two years. With the added rent, the mortgage would pay down more quickly. What was the damn problem?

Roger Cooper. It was time for Roger to pack up and hit the road. A whisper here, a whisper there, and he’d be gone. She hated to hurt the Noble’s business, but what choice did she have?

And then there was Trisha. Had the night produced clarity of her teacher’s feelings for her? After considering possible reasons for Trisha’s disappearance, only one made sense. Her teacher had seen her clutching Fred, become jealous, and left. Of all the people at the game, Trisha had been the one who recognized her. It was right there in her eyes. So was the hurt. The resulting situation was awkward, but somehow exciting too.

Her phone sounded. “Google, I’ll be right there. Not a single word about my costume tonight! Understood?”

“Understood. You’re still wearing it, I hope.”

William sat next to Google, skimming through a stream of messages on the council website. More like a river, actually. “It’s hopeless. Or fopeless, as you’d say. I can’t read all this.”

Google chuckled and cut from Facebook to their own site. “Maybe we should focus on only this one page. I’ll see what Amy thinks.”

William whistled. “About that Amy. Did you see the bongos on our little tomboy gone wild? She was smokin’. She got more looks than the game on the field.”

“I didn’t notice. I was watching the game.”

“Sure you were. What was the final score?”

“Okay, I’ll concede it was a novelty. She looked ... different.”

“Different?” William laughed. “Like a Jaguar’s different than a Volkswagen Bug!”

Amy walked into the basement hideaway in a sweat suit, green bottoms and blue top. Her hair, swept to the sides, was the only remnant of the Jaguar. “I heard you, Little Billy. The Bug is back to stay.”

Both boys spun around in their chairs. William said, “Before Little Billy goes, he has one thing to say. Here’s one vote for the Jaguar.”

Amy shook her lustrous-looking hair. “Maybe I’ll give you a pole dance for your eighteenth birthday. Now, let’s get cracking.”

Google started. “We get going at eight tomorrow morning. The whole group, fourteen minus Barner probably, will meet at the mall. We’ll be discussing the whole layout for the school.”

Amy nodded. “Forever Fit will vacate quickly. I’d like to leave that space alone. It’ll be perfect for fitness classes, cheerleading practice, and maybe even the dance and drill team.”

“We don’t have a drill team,” Google pointed out.

“That’s right. The council needs to start one. Great for school spirit.”

“Consider it done,” William agreed. “We’ll need to find a good coach.”

Amy paced in front of the boys. “Which brings us to the elephant in the room ... our faculty. We have some teachers that can’t be coming with us.” She pulled a folded paper from her pocket. “I’ve listed thirteen teachers that won’t work out at all. Leonard, the hag that embarrassed Berman by sharing her selfie, is at the top of the list. We won’t be needing her Home Ec classes any longer; everybody knows how to use a microwave. Mister Bulger’s on here. We can do without Woodshop for a couple years. We won’t need the PE teachers either. The rest are burn-outs or just too old school. We need young teachers with lots of computer background.”

Google spoke up. “I don’t disagree. I could list more than thirteen. But what about their union? They’ve got that whole business of tenure.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Amy answered. “Miss Frank, the union rep, is on the list too. The solution might be to find replacements at our middle school. We could trade bad for good. The union might buy that. I suggest you have a private meeting with the Cornell people tomorrow. They’ll understand and maybe help work out a deal.”

“I’m tight with those guys,” William grinned. “I’ll bring it up.”

“Next item,” Amy said, pushing forward. “Student teachers. William, you have to get on top of this. You’ll look really good. Right now the high school has one student teacher assigned for the first semester, in Burkman’s class. You’ll want one assigned to every single teacher. You’ve already got dozens who say they’re interested. Get the district moving on that. We could wind up with one teacher for every eight or nine students. That’d be epic. The kids would have someone looking over their shoulders constantly ... exactly what they need. Questions?”

The boys stared at their taskmaster, thinking the same thing. Where did the old Amy go, the one who rarely said anything?

“Are we in agreement?” she asked.

They nodded together.

“Good. That brings us to fundraising. It’s time to put the two girls on your executive committee to work.”

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