Chapter 8: The Addendum

Wyatt dropped me at the Sunstone gate at noon.

My shoulder still remembered his hand, and I kept my bag strap off it.

The coordinator was waiting in the office with the balance invoice on the desk.

"Twenty-two thousand four hundred," she said. "Due today. Shea told me you promised it."

"I did."

I put my card on the desk.

She ran it, and the machine took the entire amount without a sound.

It was most of what I had saved in six years of teaching.

I signed the receipt anyway, and she slid the copy across.

"Now," I said. "I need to change one thing about Saturday, and I need it in writing."

"Ms. Tressler, I told you, I can't hide things from Shea."

"I'm not asking you to hide anything."

I turned my phone around and showed her one picture.

It was the page with the poll and the percentages, and the line from Shea that said, "Bring tissues."

She read it with her lips pressed together.

I scrolled to the next one, the café photo and the comments underneath.

"Honestly iconic. Does she ever find out?"

The coordinator put her hand flat on her collarbone.

"That's you," she said. "That's the desert. That's what she meant by a finale."

"Yes."

"And the stream, the four hundred viewers?"

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