“But first, the runners-up,” Mrs. Wells said regally.
Oh, geez, Louise.
“For the third-place prize, a plaque, a five-hundred-dollar scholarship, and a
gift certificate to Copperfield's Book Store…” A pause. “Katie—”
No!
“—Ferguson”
Yes! Katie clutched her chest. I think I'm having a heart attack. That had to be a heart attack. Could you have a heart attack at seventeen and a half?
“For our second-place prize. A plaque and a one-thousand-dollar
scholarship, the winner is…Peter Clark.”
The crowd applauded, a few of the boys whooped. Katie felt a twinge of guilt as Peter made his way to the stage, grinning. Good job, Peter.
“And finally, for our first-prize winner.”
Oh, here we go. Katie folded her arms on her chest and squeezed, hoping she
could stay vertical for the next thirty seconds. The room was still, silent, like runners waiting for the gun to go off.
“A plaque and a five-thousand-dollar-a-year scholarship go to…”
Pleeeeeeeeeeease…
“Katie Brady, and her beautiful mobile!”
I won. I won? I won!
Fireworks exploded in her head. Someone smacked her on the back, the
crowd was applauding, some cheering. She stumbled forward, grin frozen on her
face, up to the stage, students clapping, socking her arm as she went by.
It was like floating on a cloud. She'd won! All the hours, the work, the flat-
out validation of it all. Finally, something good was happening. To her.
Mrs. Wells was waiting, smiling, holding out her hand. Katie shook it,
accepted the plaque, and some piece of paper, the stage lights hot and blinding.
The gym was large and wide, full of people cheering. For her. She looked to her
right. Peter was there, on stage, clapping, grinning, his face full of joy, actual joy, for her. Her chest pounded. It was magical.
The stage lights dimmed, the gym lights went up and the applause died out
as students began picking up their projects. Katie accepted thanks from all the judges, each shaking her hand. At the end of the line was Peter.
He hugged her. He smelled clean and bright, like sunshine. His arms were
the safest, warmest place she'd ever been. She rested her head on his shoulder, and she didn't care who saw it.
She'd won.
* * *
The Present
Carol bumped in from the kitchen, breaking her daydream. “Here's the tea,” she
said, carrying two steaming mugs.
Kate took hers with both hands. “Thanks.”
“So, what time is your appointment tomorrow?”
Appointment? Oh, yeah…your job, remember? “Um, nine a.m., sharp.” And
she still had some notes she wanted to go over before then. And she still wanted to get out to that plant yet tonight. “Which reminds me. Could I borrow your car?”
Carol's face went blank for a few seconds.
