Chapter 20: The Weight

I plugged the cable into the laptop and the white wall behind the head table lit up.

"I'm sorry to take two minutes," I said. "I'm Abigail Tennison."

"The Sundell Fund just paused the stipends because of me. I think you should know why."

Hailey's father said, "Miss Tennison, sit down," in a voice that had won a lot of rooms.

The dean said, "Let her speak," in a voice that had won more.

I pressed play.

Hailey's voice came out of the hall speakers, soft and shaking.

"It was freshman year, in my kitchen. His mom was sick that month and he was working two jobs."

"He said you were dead weight. Then he looked so ashamed, and I promised I'd never tell."

Nobody in the hall moved.

"Caleb's mother has never been sick," I said. "I ate at her table every Sunday that year."

I pressed play again.

It was Dani's hallway clip, the red light and the oak door and Hailey's flat, sleepy voice.

A boy's voice answered her, low and worn out.

It was Caleb's voice, exactly, coming out of a girl in a cream dress.

On the video, she said, "I didn't even need to practice. You believed it in two seconds, Abigail."

A donor near the front put her glass down on the floor, which is not a thing donors do.

I clicked once more.

The last slide was the notebook page, blown up across the wall.

The blue pen on the lined paper stood six feet tall.

"HOW TO KEEP THEM."

"Item five," I said. "Read it with me, if you want."

The woman in the green jacket was already reading it under her breath.

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