THE STUDENT COUNCIL
Chapter 13

Grant Westin cut into a thick sirloin steak at the patio table. Amy had been saving the choice meat for a special occasion. Her father’s appetite had miraculously returned after spending the last three hours with Rachel Adams, the school district superintendent.

“We’re getting a cost-plus contract to clear the rubble from the fire,” Grant announced, glancing at Emily and back to Amy. “The school district doesn’t want kids getting in there, maybe getting hurt. It’s a big job. Could take a couple weeks.”

Amy wanted to uncork champagne. Her father was suddenly willing to talk business in front of her – now that the news was favorable.

“We’re looking at a second contract for the gym,” Grant added. “It needs a heating system and lots of electrical and plumbing work. The structure survived, but its support system died with the rest of the school.”

Amy’s mother toyed with her salad, moving lettuce around the plate without taking a bite. She asked, “Is there any news on the money for the new school? Will the state declare some kind of emergency?”

Her husband grinned as he chewed. “The superintendent thinks so. She’s going to ask the school board to pass a resolution requesting it when they meet tonight. If the governor acts immediately, the project could go out for bid right away. The district might even hand us a sole source contract if we’ll do it for the original cost estimate. That’d be Rachel’s preference.”

“Are the old numbers workable?” Emily asked, rolling a tomato wedge in a lap around her plate.

“Don’t know why not. The estimate was based on numbers we provided. Some material costs have actually dropped due to the overall construction slowdown. Fuel is down over forty percent since then.”

Amy rose and poured more cold tea into her father’s glass. “It’s nice to see you eating,” she chirped. “I was worried you forgot how.”

She turned to her mother. “Doctor Ragsdale and his wife must be beside themselves. Maybe we could send some flowers or something. Everyone should be supportive at a time like this.”

Emily touched her chest and sighed. “You’re a wonderful daughter, Amy. I should have thought of that myself.”

In the district conference room, Gwen Simpson, a realtor by day, called the school board meeting to order. Six other members were present, along with the district superintendent, two of her accountants, and a recording secretary. Two board members had been excused. One was ill and the other on vacation.

“This is a work session,” Gwen announced, “closed to the public. We’ll have an open meeting on Thursday. In the meantime, we’ll have to put our house in order. I’d like to start by hearing a report from our superintendent. Rachel?”

An exhausted Rachel Adams reviewed the status of the former school site and gym before detailing the double-shifting scheme. “The plan we have in place calls for an earlier start to the middle school day. Classes would begin at seven-thirty instead of eight-thirty. The final bell would ring at two-thirty, allowing a half-hour transition to high school at three. The high school day will be shortened by an hour. It’ll run three to nine.

“We’re already getting resistance to an earlier start for middle school. Parents feel that would seriously interfere with their schedules. You have the choice of reducing the middle school day by at least half an hour or standing up to what I guarantee will be boisterous complaints. We can’t run the high school day later than nine for a whole host of reasons. Trust me on that.”

One of the board members raised a hand. “What about after-school activities for the middle school kids? All the clubs and so forth?”

Superintendent Adams shook her head. “All those activities will be suspended or moved elsewhere. The building has to be completely emptied for the high school. That’s what your plan says.”

The board member shook her head also. “That was easy to say when we never dreamed we’d have to implement the emergency plan. People are going to raise hell. What about the sports teams?”

“We still have the old high school gym. Like I told you, it needs work, but Grant Westin says he can take care of it within two weeks. Middle school can use that while high school’s in session.” Most of the board nodded approval.

“At your request, we’ve put some rough budget figures together. The one benefit of double-shifting is that lots of savings will result. Most of that would come from lower janitorial and utility expense. The majority of our insurance cost for the high school will go away, except for the gym, but insurance for the middle school will go up. At first glance, we can save about sixteen thousand a month during the school year. There might be additional savings that haven’t occurred to us yet. Certainly more expenses. We’ve only had a few hours to look at this.”

After an extended question and answer session, the superintendent and her assistants were dismissed. Gwen asked board member Gary Cole for his report. Cole, a local attorney, was the board’s state government liaison. He was in charge of communication with the State Board of Education and the Pennsylvania Legislature.

“As you’d guess,” Gary began, “our situation has caused quite a stir in Harrisburg. What will surprise you is the response I’m getting. As it stands, our high school was insured for just nine million. The insurance company will want to bargain that down some because the gym’s still there, but that’s all in the hands of our legal people. What would normally happen is that the insurance money would be used to offset some of the cost of a new high school. The governor wants us to hold off on that. He wants us to conduct a double-shifting experiment for the whole state. Pennsylvania has major money problems and he’s looking for ways to cut costs. If existing schools can be used for double duty, to accommodate two shifts a day, and if citizens will accept that concept, it will change everything. New construction and operating costs will drop big time. Hundreds of millions will be saved every year.”

Denny Noble had been scowling from the moment Cole opened his mouth. As the only males on the board, they had been engaged in a rooster fight for years. The most recent scratch had come from Cole, who purchased a fully-loaded Avalon from a Toyota dealership in Erie - for a price Denny would have matched.

The car salesman slapped the table. “That’s all ridiculous! We need to build our new high school immediately. A thirty-two million-dollar construction project means everything to Oil City! Like Rachel said, we need to demand emergency funding right now.”

Gwen intervened, as she often did. “Denny, please let Gary finish.”

“Here’s the carrot,” Cole said with a smirk. “If the double shift works and we can live with it, our district keeps all the insurance money.”

A few members nodded while Denny jumped out of his chair. “Keep it for what? I didn’t run for school board so I could cheat our kids and the community out of having a real high school! Let the state balance its budget on someone else’s back!”

Gary Cole grinned. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Noble. Of all people! You put vinyl siding on a historical home because it would save you money in the long run. This is similar. The governor just wants us to see how things go for a few months, maybe give it to the end of December.”

“Our kids aren’t guinea pigs,” Denny yelled. “We should do everything possible to get our new school funding approved right now! We should be breaking ground this month!”

Gwen clapped her hands. “Can we agree to hold off on this until Thursday’s public meeting? We’ll vote on a resolution at that time. The meeting will be over in the middle school library. We’ll need the additional seating.”

Amy sat on her bed, texting with Google, catching updates on the student council meeting. According to him, the group was in a frenzy. They were ready to boycott school altogether if they didn’t get the mall and computers.

Berman, she typed. Reaction?

Smiling. Blown away. Must be a rebel.

No rebel. Just progressive. And maybe adventurous, Amy thought and smiled.

OK. All leaving now.

Lock up carefully.

Yes. W about to call your father, like you told him.

Amy’s heart was hopping. When the home phone rang, she didn’t reach for it right away. That was her father’s job this time.

As soon as the call was answered, Amy picked up and listened on her extension. Her mother beckoned her husband.

The brief conversation went almost exactly as Amy predicted. Almost to the word. She was sympathetic to her father’s confusion and William’s surprise and disappointment. That was all unfortunate, but nature had to run its course.

A minute passed. First word came from William by text: WTF? All for nothing!!!

A loud knock sounded on her bedroom door. Amy sat up straight, her back against the carved oak headboard. “Come in.”

Her father’s forehead was deeply creased. “I just got a call from the Noble boy. You told him the high school could move into the Allegheny Mall? Amy, why would you say something like that?”

He had to be upset to call her Amy, not Ames. She feigned surprise. “It’s just sitting there empty and I knew you’d want to help. Was the answer yes?”

He sat on the foot of the bed and studied his daughter. “I explained this to you last week. I’m losing the mall. I thought I was clear about that. The bank is foreclosing soon.”

She dropped her jaw in mock shock. “We’re losing the mall? How’s that possible?”

Grant scratched his right temple. “Do you seriously not remember what I told you? The mall’s been practically empty for years. I couldn’t make the payments. I was already way behind. Even if I get the contract for the new school, it won’t come soon enough. The mall’s history.”

Amy manufactured tears and let them slide down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand.”

She had wondered what it would be like to lie to her father for the first time. It wasn’t so bad. The means of getting the train in motion was unimportant. It was where the momentum could lead that mattered.

Her father stood and came to her. “It’s my fault, I guess.” He stroked the top of her head. “I should have explained better.”

When he walked toward the door, she called out to him. “I bet the district would pay you rent. The high school kids really don’t want the shift thing.”

Grant stopped and turned. “The superintendent told me you were going to the middle school. It’s already decided.”

“William Noble’s idea is better. He wants us to have our own school.”

Amy’s father relaxed and smiled. “I’ve known the Noble boy for years now, ever since you started bringing him around. He’s a joker. You’ve said so yourself.”

“He’s the student council president. Tonight the council voted to move the school to your mall.”

“He thought the mall was free! You told him that! He didn’t know about a five million-dollar mortgage. Banks don’t play for free.” He headed toward the door again.

Amy was only getting started. “Why not call William back and explain that? Give him a rental amount that will satisfy the bank. You’d still be donating your personal interest for free, right? In a couple years the economy might be different. The mall might be worth a lot.”

Her father froze in mid-stride. He would love to keep the mall if humanly possible. The bank was getting it for forty cents on the dollar. Still, Amy’s odd suggestion seemed too good to be true. “I don’t talk business with kids,” he said without turning around.

Amy fired at his back. “William Noble’s almost eighteen. He has a brilliant plan.”

Her father returned to her bedside. “The school district isn’t going to pay rent it doesn’t have to. The middle school is basically free.”

“You know construction, Daddy. I know kids. They’re not going to the middle school without a fight.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine that. It’s not logical.”

Amy heard wavering in his voice. The finish line was in sight - at least for this individual race. “I’m suggesting that you make a five-minute phone call. Consider it a learning experience for William. Quote him a number for a two-year lease.”

“There are tenants,” he mumbled.

“Just the two. Pizzarama will be happy to stay. No problem there. Forever Fit will be happy to leave.”

Grant lifted his head quickly. “How do you know that?”

Amy realized she’d said too much. “Mother goes there. She might have mentioned something to me. Could have been someone else.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Grant offered. “Maybe I’ll call him in the morning. I need to get some sleep after being up all night.”

Amy blew him a kiss. “William needs a good night’s sleep too. He’ll sleep better if he knows his dream isn’t completely dead. Calling him back now would be a kindness. Five minutes. You’d be giving him a learning experience.”

“Good night, Ames.” Her father closed the door behind him.

Leaning back into a pillow, Amy responded to the text from William. So so sorry. I had no idea about bank payments. I’ll never step outside this house again. Too embarrassed. Your ideas were the best.

She texted her mother next, even though she was only a floor or two below. Good night, Mother. Longest day. No calls for me. Need to sleep. Love, D#2.

Amy pulled back the old patchwork quilt that both decorated her bed and kept her great grandmother a part of her daily life. Carrie Westin had sewn it all by hand when she was Amy’s age or even younger. Designed it, organized it, and meticulously completed it. An impressive accomplishment for such a young seamstress. Thinking of Carrie, Amy pulled the quilt to her chin and curled up beneath it.

Emily Westin had been standing in the hall outside Amy’s room.

“You heard?” her husband asked in whisper.

She nodded and tiptoed toward the staircase.

He didn’t speak until the two reached the second floor. “I thought Amy was a lot brighter than that. Maybe I was lulled into higher expectations by all the A’s on her report cards.”

“Ha!” Emily exclaimed. “You must think I’m really stupid then. At sixteen, Amy’s smarter than I’ll ever be. We have nothing to lose by giving the Noble boy a figure.”

Grant grunted. “What’s the point? Makes no sense. Zero. The district has things under control. Why go to the bother and expense of creating a temporary school? And we wouldn’t be talking small change either.”

“If you don’t have those five minutes to call him, Grant, I’ll do it myself. For even a one percent chance of keeping the mall, I can delay brushing my teeth for a few minutes.”