Nancy’s jaw dropped. “They’re kicking you out of college? That’s ridiculous. You’re not to blame if the economy of your country goes sour. Can’t you file an appeal?”
“They are right. I owe the money and I cannot pay,” Joann said. “But that is not the worst. If I am not enrolled as a student, I will lose my visa. I will have to leave the United States without my degree. After such a failure the authorities at home will never allow me to return.”
“I wonder if the International Friendship Club could help you,” Nancy said. “What if Cyril spoke to somebody in the college administration? Once people hear about your situation, they’re bound to find a way to take care of it.”
She looked around. George and Bess were chatting with a redheaded girl in white jeans and a turquoise Indian print top. A few feet away Ned and Cyril were having their own conversation. Nancy waved for them to come over.
“What’s up?” Cyril asked Joann. “You’ve had quite a turn.”
Joann gave Nancy an imploring look. Nancy realized she didn’t want to explain it all again. She gave the two guys a quick summary of Joann’s plight.
Cyril made a disgusted noise. “Bureaucrats!” he said. “Same the world over, aren’t they? Still, not to worry. Enjoy the festival. Try not to think about their idiotic doings. Come Monday we’ll see if we can’t pound some common sense into their heads.”
“Thank you, Cyril,” Joann said. “You’re very sweet. I must write an e-mail to my parents. I am worried about them, and I know they must be worried about me.”
“Steering committee at six,” Cyril reminded her. “If you’re up for it, that is. You could probably solve a couple of computer problems that have popped up. Don’t worry, though. If you can’t make it, I’ll ask Lance to see what he can do.”
Ned winked at Nancy. “Cyril’s one of those guys who thinks computers are brainy typewriters with mysterious stuff inside,” he kidded. “It’s a good thing he’s got people like Joann and this Lance to turn to when something goes wrong.”
Joann got to her feet. Some color had come back to her cheeks. Nancy thought she was recovering.
“Of course I’ll be at the meeting,” Joann told Cyril. “We have so many details to take care of.”
As George, Bess, and the girl with red hair joined them, Joann said, “I’m going to e-mail my parents now. As soon as you are ready to go to my room, please tell me, George.” George nodded.
“Nancy, this is Penny,” Bess announced. “I’m staying in her room. She’s organizing a Worldbeat picnic tomorrow, as part of the festival. Isn’t that neat?”
“It sounds like fun,” Nancy replied, giving Penny a friendly smile.
“Oh, I hope so,” Penny said. “I’m pretty nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Don’t worry,” Cyril told her. “None of the people who come have ever been to anything like this, either. As long as the food is exotic, they’re bound to think it’s a success.”
“But what counts as exotic these days?” George wondered. “Even the food court at the River Heights mall has everything from French crêpes to Thai chicken.”
“And it’s all made from the same brand of cardboard,” Nancy joked.
“Oh, come on, Nancy,” Bess protested. “You have to admit it’s the very best cardboard.”
“Everything at the picnic will be homemade, from authentic recipes,” Penny told them. “How about you guys? Would you like to contribute a dish?”
“I do a cool tossed salad,” George said with a straight face. “The secret’s in knowing how to toss it.”
Penny laughed. “If I’m really desperate, I’ll get in touch with you,” she promised. She looked toward the entrance and waved. “Lance, over here!”
Lance was a guy of medium height with a squarish face and neatly trimmed blond hair. He was wearing freshly pressed khaki slacks and a blue polo shirt with a designer logo embroidered on the chest.
“Hey, look what I’ve got,” he said to Penny. He reached into a supple brown leather messenger bag and pulled out a colorful brochure. Nancy caught a glimpse of the words “Bike Adventure.”
“Lance, these are Ned’s friends from River Heights,” Penny said. “Bess, George, and Nancy.”
“Oh, hi,” Lance said. Nancy noticed he didn’t ask who went with which name. “Have you girls made plans for the summer? The IFC’s organizing a really super bike trip around Eastern Europe. You’d have a wonderful time. Beautiful scenery, good company, healthy exercise . . . how can you lose? Here—all the information’s in here.”
He handed each of them a brochure and added, “If you think you might want to go but you’re not positive, fill out the form anyway and give me a deposit. That way you’re sure of a place. And if you change your mind before the first of June, you get your money back.”
“It sounds like fun,” George said. “How many people have signed up so far?”
“Almost two dozen,” Penny replied. “Isn’t that great? And that was even before we got the brochure. I can’t wait for summer!”
“Come by our booth at the fair tomorrow,” Lance said. “We can give you a lot more information and answer any questions you have. By the end of next week you can visit our Web site, too. We’ll have hyperlinks to all kinds of international stuff—music, culture, festivals, you name it.”
“Lance is the official IFC Webmaster,” Penny announced proudly. She put an arm through his.
“Cool,” Nancy said. She looked around. Ned and Cyril had gone over to a table to study some papers. A guy with broad shoulders and thick dark hair walked up to them. Turning his back on Ned, he started talking intently to Cyril.
Ned met Nancy’s gaze. He rolled his eyes, then crossed over to her. “Politics,” he snorted. “I guess it gives people something to worry about.”
“Who’s that?” Nancy asked. “No, wait, let me guess. The guy Cyril mentioned, who’s running for IFC president?”
“Good work,” Ned replied. “Yeah, that’s Vlad. His latest thing is that Dina is using unfair tactics against him. He just told Cyril he should disqualify her from running.”
“Can Cyril do that?” Nancy asked, surprised.
Ned shrugged. “Beats me. I never read the club bylaws. But even if he could, I can’t see him doing it. Not unless the person did something pretty far out of line.”
“I don’t get it,” Nancy said. “Why is the race so bitter? Is it so important who wins? Does the head of the club have a lot of power on campus?”
“Oh, sure,” Ned said with a laugh. “The IFC president ranks right up there with the assistant manager of the freshman rugby team.”
