Twenty-Four
It’s here: the final day of the internship. The interns gave their individual presentations to the Emergent executives, their mentors, and Cal Stockwell, since he’s funding a chunk of the scholarship. Trish and I sat together since she’s not competing. Everyone did well, each presentation reflecting their individual personalities and goals. Now the executives are huddled in the conference room to vote.
The interns went to the corner bakery for a sugar hit, but Trish and I are in the sky box, going over our plan one last time.
“Ready?” Trish asks.
I glance over my shoulder. No more spying on Carlos from across the room, or laughing at silly faces from Elijah. No more shy smiles from Jason. No more eye rolls from Trish, or observing Ashley’s lip gloss application.
“Showtime.” I raise my palm and Trish high-fives me. We march down both flights of stairs, across the lobby, and to the conference room, united in our mission.
Ms. Romero doesn’t even try to stop us as we burst into Dad’s office. I think she secretly likes it. Dad, Ms. Simmons, the Manicotti, and Cal Stockwell gape at us. My dad, in particular, looks ready to blow.
“I hope you didn’t start without us.”
“What are you doing here? You said you weren’t voting.” Dad levels me with the Vader glare. “You told me you have a conflict of interest.”
I did tell him that, but I’d refused to reveal the specifics of my “conflict.”
“I’m not voting, but you wanted feedback on the interns. A peer review, right?” I glance at Trish, whose expression is fierce and determined. She stares down her own dad. “Trish and I spent a lot of time with the interns and we think you should hear what we have to say before you vote. Also, at the beginning of summer you said I had two votes. I’m giving them to Trish.”
Dad scrubs a hand down his face, but Ms. Simmons’s eyes flash with interest. Cal Stockwell’s expression is inscrutable. To my surprise, Mr. Mantoni looks almost…pleased.
“Let’s hear it.” Mr. Mantoni’s words startle me. Ms. Simmons nods, and my dad and Cal Stockwell shrug in defeat.
“Okay.” I take two deep breaths, like Trish coached me. “They all deserve to win.” I glance at Trish, who nods encouragingly. “Every one of them needs the money.” I meet my dad’s appraising gaze. “They all worked hard this summer. And put up with a lot.” I side-eye Mr. Mantoni, who squints behind his glasses.
“You wanted us to become a team,” Trish says. “And we did.” She turns to Cal Stockwell. “Together we figured out who was sabotaging you, and Emergent.”
“That’s true, but—” my dad begins, but Trish puts up a hand to stop him.
“I couldn’t stand any of the interns the first week,” Trish continues. “Especially Laurel.”
“The feeling was mutual.” We grin at each other. The executives look stunned.
“But I changed my mind about Laurel. Not just her. I thought Jason was an idiot, but he’s not. He’s brave. Every single day, he’s braver than I will ever be.”
“And I thought Ashley was a ditzy blonde.” I clear my throat, telling myself not to be intimated by Ms. Simmons’s frown, or my dad’s scary eyebrows. “But she’s smart, and thoughtful. She doesn’t have the support at home that Trish and I do, yet she holds on to her dreams.”
“I disliked Elijah the least, at first.” Trish grasps her spider pendant, so I know she’s more nervous than she appears. “I wondered why he was even here in his designer duds.” She swallows. “Now I know.” Trish shoots her dad a look that would make me whimper. “He’s brilliant, Dad. And funny. He’s the heart of his family.”
My turn. I take a deep breath. “I, um, wasn’t sure about Carlos at first.” I can’t look at Trish. “I thought he was sort of arrogant. But then I got to know him…and his family.” My dad’s gaze sharpens, but I keep going. “He’s a remarkable guy. His whole internship was focused on helping his family, not his own college plans.”
I make eye contact with Cal Stockwell, whose facial muscles are on lockdown.
“You know how it is on a team, Mr. Stockwell.” I wait for a reaction from him, but I get nothing. “Teammates don’t always like each other, but the more they train and compete together, the tighter they get.” I dart a quick smile at Trish. “Unexpected allies team up.”
“Word.” She reaches out to fist-bump me.
My dad sighs and runs a hand through his movie star hair. “All right, we get the message. You’re all one big happy family now. And that’s great—really, it is.” He glances at Mr. Mantoni, whose attention is fixated on Trish. Something is brewing behind those beady eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.
Dad clears his throat. “But we have to choose a winner.” His gaze softens as he studies me. “You know that, honey. You’ve known all summer.”
Trish turns to me, desperation in her eyes.
“You’re offering a one-hundred-thousand-dollar scholarship.” My fingernails dig into my palms. “That’s a lot of money.” My knees are trembling, but I keep going. “Why not give each of them twenty-five thousand?”
“I second that,” Trish says. “With both my votes.”
Dad blinks in surprise. Mr. Mantoni and Ms. Simmons exchange confused glances. Cal Stockwell is a frozen statue.
“We know that’s not enough for a full ride for any of them,” Trish says quickly before they can argue. “But 25K is a good start. And you can give all of them fantastic recommendation letters for other scholarships.”
No one speaks.
“You’ve given us your opinions,” Dad finally says, his brow creased with frustration or anger—maybe both. “Now please leave. We need to choose the winner.”
Shoulders slumped in defeat, I turn away, anxious to escape. Trish shadows me, and somehow reading each other’s minds, we head for the rooftop to commiserate.
“One thing our dads have in common,” Trish says as we climb the stairs, “they’re both too damn stubborn.”
…
Two hours later, everyone gathers for the scholarship announcement. Employees line the stairs and fill the lobby. Laughter echoes off the brick walls and anticipatory energy bounces through the crowd—for the announcement, but also for the surprise party that will follow on the rooftop. Somehow everyone has managed to keep it a secret from my dad.
The interns stand on one side of Miss Emmaline’s desk. Carlos wore a tie today, as did Jason and Elijah. Ashley, as always, looks lovely. I don’t feel envy anymore when I look at her. I’m impressed at how determined she is, in spite of her mom’s low expectations.
I can tell by their body language and anxious glances the interns are nervous. I desperately want to stand next to Carlos and hold his hand, but I stay where I am, next to Trish, my stomach roiling with worry. Lexi has texted me three times to ask who won, which only made me more anxious, so my phone is on Do Not Disturb.
Carlos’s gaze scans the crowd and locks on me. My heart dances in my chest. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are full of warmth. I pray that no matter what happens with the scholarship, our new relationship isn’t just a summer fling.
Miss Emmaline stands behind her desk, scrutinizing the crowd over the rim of her eyeglasses. When I catch her attention, she studies me with a long, appraising look, then reaches into the candy bowl, slowly unwraps a Crazy Cowboy, and pops it into her mouth. I guess I’ll never understand her, and she’ll never get me. But that’s okay—she’s devoted to my dad and Emergent, and that’s what matters.
The crowd parts as my dad, Mr. Mantoni, Ms. Simmons, and Cal Stockwell make their way across the lobby. Vader doesn’t even have to ask for everyone to be quiet. At the beginning of summer, I would’ve said his minions were scared of him. Now I know the reason for the silence is respect.
As sad as I am that Dad rejected our idea to split up the scholarship award, I can’t deny how much my view of him and his company has changed.
Trish shoulder-bumps me. “Here we go,” she whispers. I nod, unable to speak. Carlos isn’t looking at me anymore; he’s focused on my dad.
“Thank you all for gathering to celebrate our first summer internship program.” Dad flashes a quick smile. “You all know we experienced some unexpected drama this summer, and our interns suffered for it. Some more than others.” He nods at Jason, who blushes. “All of them deserve a round of applause for sticking it out.”
The crowd claps enthusiastically. Brian blows an air horn, probably from his desk toy collection. I’m trembling with nerves. Why didn’t I argue my case better? Why didn’t I wheedle my dad about the scholarship money on our drives to work this week?
“Deciding on a scholarship winner might be one of the toughest decisions I’ve made at Emergent.” Dad gestures to the other bigwigs. “I think I speak for all of us.” Each of them nods, including Cal Stockwell.
My heart is in my throat. The interns are frozen in place, eyes wide.
Please, Dad. Don’t do this.
Dad nods at Mr. Mantoni, who takes a step forward. He gestures toward the interns, who eye him warily.
“This is a great group of kids,” he says, surprising me, and probably them, too. “I might’ve been too hard on them, but as Mr. K said, they stuck around anyway.” He runs a hand over his gleaming bald head.
Brian and Jiang have moved to the front of the crowd, phones and cameras ready to take pictures for social media and a press release, I assume. For once, I don’t want my camera. The last thing I want is a picture of one happy intern and three crestfallen ones.
“You all know a college education is expensive these days,” says Mr. Mantoni.
A rumble moves through the crowd. I wonder how many of them are still paying back student loans? The profound realization of how fortunate I am hits me square in the chest and to my dismay, tears fill my eyes.
Ms. Romero watches me from across the room, sympathy in her warm brown eyes. I chew the inside of my lip as my attention returns to the interns. I want the best for all of them, but I failed them. Only one person’s life will be changed today.
“The four of us spent a long time debating,” Mr. Mantoni continues. He pauses and all I can hear is the muffled sound of traffic outside, and the thudding of my heart.
“As you know, the intent of the scholarship is to provide one hundred thousand dollars to the winner. Depending on which college they attend, that could be a full ride, or a big chunk of the final tab.” He glances at my dad, who steps forward as Mr. Mantoni steps back.
I wonder if that’s what happens when you work so closely together for so long—reading each other’s invisible signals. Dad and Mom do that at home, too. Maybe someday I’ll be lucky enough to find that closeness with someone.
“Most of you know my story.” Dad’s voice is strong and clear, reaching the employees on the stairs. “I worked my way through college. It was hard, but I don’t regret it.” He faces the interns, who shift nervously. “But when I started this company, I vowed that someday I’d make earning a degree easier for others than it was for me.”
Trish is vibrating next to me. Or maybe it’s me that’s shaking.
“I was hell-bent on making sure one of you got a full ride, at least to a state college.”
Dad’s never looked more intense than he does in this moment.
Jiang is discreetly taking photos with her camera, but my dad doesn’t notice. Brian’s riveted by my dad, not taking any photos. I smile to myself. I see why Jiang got the promotion.
“However.”
The word floats in the air, taunting me. Trish grasps my hand, squeezing it hard. Dad’s penetrating stare searches out Trish and me and stays there.
“I’ve learned a few things over the years.” Dad’s lips twist in an ironic smile. “Such as wisdom sometimes comes from unexpected sources.” For a long moment, he looks only at me. Trish’s grip on my hand tightens.
“So.” Dad tears his gaze from me and strides toward the interns, who look ready to keel over from stress. “We’ve made a change to the award.”
Carlos tugs at his Windsor knot, Jason’s blush returns, Elijah stands up straighter, and Ashley smooths her skirt. Trish and I dare to look at each other, but we don’t speak. I think we’re afraid to jinx whatever’s coming next.
Dad talks directly to the interns, but we can all hear him. “From what we’ve observed, and based on what we’ve learned from those who worked with you closely, we’ve decided that all of you are winners.”
A murmur begins in the crowd, but the Vader side-eye stops it.
“Now, splitting the pot four ways gives you each twenty-five thousand, but it’s not what you signed up for.”
The interns look shell-shocked. I can’t tell if they’re excited or disappointed. Trish is definitely vibrating. So am I.
Dad motions for Cal Stockwell to join him. Cal’s almost seven feet tall; his height combined with his stern countenance are intimidating as he looms over the interns. Jason stares at the floor, and I know he feels guilty about the Twitstorm, even though he didn’t do anything wrong.
“I got my degree by winning a basketball scholarship.” Cal’s booming voice matches his size. “I know one of you sees that as your only option.” He stares at Jason, waiting until he lifts his head. “But it’s not.”
Jiang’s camera is getting a workout.
“Mr. Kristoff and I have spent the past couple of hours on the phone. A lot of the guys I played with went to school on scholarship, too.” He cracks a small smile, the first one I’ve seen. “And Mr. K knows how to call in a favor.”
My dad’s words echo in my ears: “When you have friends in powerful positions, you don’t ask for random favors. You choose wisely, holding onto the big-time favor until it’s something important, for someone special.”
“Ms. Simmons, join us,” my dad says. She beams as she hurries to his side. Now the four bigwigs face the four interns. The crowd whispers excitedly, but this time my dad ignores it.
“Due to the generosity of a whole lot of people who want to pay it forward,” Dad announces, his voice booming almost as loud as Cal’s, “we’re able to award each of you eighty-thousand dollars.”
Cheers and applause roar through the room, echoing off the brick walls, along with Brian’s air horn, followed by the pounding beat of Van Halen. Someone just launched my dad’s surprise party playlist.
My whole body goes numb, like I’m having an out-of-body experience, floating up and up, over the excited, chattering crowd below me. The interns hug and laugh and fist pump and mug for the camera. My dad and Cal laugh together, punching each other on the arms like dorks. Ms. Simmons makes each intern pose with her, holding their certificates. Mr. Mantoni watches it all like a benevolent dictator.
A swirl of warmth and happiness floods my body, bringing me back to the ground, to reality. A squeal builds in my throat but I tamp it down—until Trish grabs me and spins me around and around, crashing into the employees standing nearby.
“We did it, princess!”
I’ve never seen her so happy. I release my squeal and join her in a goofy celebration dance to the famous Van Halen “Jump” song. I spin around again, jumping in sync with the lyrics…and crash smack into Carlos, whose arms lock around me, pinning me close.
He smiles down at me with those stupid dimples, then slowly lowers his forehead to mine. “I think you have something to tell me,” he murmurs.
I’m dimly aware of the flash of camera lights, and the other interns joining us for the expanding dance party, but I tune it all out.
“You’re breaking rule number eight.” Our lips are just millimeters apart, but the party is now dancing its way upstairs to the roof, so no one’s paying attention to us.
“The internship’s over, Special K. The only rules I’m following are my own.” He kisses me softly, gently, and I sigh into his mouth.
To my horror, my phone buzzes in my bra. Carlos leans back, bestowing me with the teasing smirk he wore the first day I met him.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn him. “My dress doesn’t have any pockets so—”
“I have sisters, you know. Rose’s bra is always buzzing.” His grin is distracting, so I turn away and reach into my bra.
My phone buzzes again. Where are you, sweetie? We’re all on the roof. Slideshow is about to start!
Mom. I grab Carlos’s hand and drag him toward the stairs and we race each other to the rooftop.