Chapter 4: Bus Fare

On Monday morning I took the cash from the freezer on Alder Street.

I had kept it in a freezer bag behind two boxes of Grandma's lima beans for eleven years.

There was four thousand dollars in it, and I had never spent a dollar of it.

I drove to the high school.

Two of Blaine's men were lifting the Linwood Heating banner off the gym wall.

It had hung there since Maxine was a freshman.

The youngest of them, the one who had said he was sorry on Saturday, kept his eyes on the ladder.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Linwood," he said again. "He told us to do it before first period."

"Take your time," I said. "It's his banner."

The students filing past slowed down to look.

I went into the athletic office.

The woman at the desk had known me for ten years, and her face said she had heard.

"The bus fee for the tournament is nineteen hundred and fifty dollars," she said gently.

"The booster account only paid the first half."

"And the other nine hundred and seventy-five?"

"Blaine's check never came."

"I know. I'm paying it."

I counted out the bills on her desk.

It took a while, because it was mostly twenties.

"I'll write you a receipt," she said, and her eyes were wet. "Mrs. Linwood, you don't have to."

"Yes," I said. "I do."

When I turned around, Coach Ostrow was standing in the doorway with his whistle on a string and a clipboard under one arm.

He was a tall man with short dark hair and a gray-streaked beard, and he favored his left knee when he stood still.

I had met him twice before Senior Night, once at a parents' meeting and once in the stands.

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