Chapter 7: Give It Back

I stood up with the envelope in my hand.

The cafeteria was so quiet I could hear the milk machine hum.

"Thank you," I said.

Camille's face softened with relief.

"Wait," said someone at the back. "Is she going to cry?"

I opened the envelope and took out the bills.

There were fifties, and twenties, and a lot of crumpled fives.

I counted them aloud, standing there, in front of everyone.

"Two thousand, three hundred, and forty."

Then I walked to the nearest table.

A boy in a lacrosse jersey was holding a taco halfway to his mouth.

"Did you give?"

He blinked.

"Uh. Yeah. Twenty."

I laid a twenty on his tray.

"Thanks. I'm good."

I went to the next table, and the next.

I asked each person how much they had given, and I gave it back.

Some of them took it, confused.

Some of them said "No, keep it" and I put it down in front of them anyway, politely, like a waiter.

A girl from the yearbook committee had given five dollars, and she gave me a look of pure horror when I returned it.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I thought you needed it."

"It was kind," I said. "I don't."

I walked all the way back to the center table.

Holden was on his feet.

"What are you doing? Laney. Sit down."

"I'm returning your money."

"It's not our money! It's for you!"

"It's for a girl who failed," I said. "I didn't."

I said it quietly, but the room was a bowl, and it carried.

Someone laughed, the small nervous kind.

"Laney, honey," Camille began, and she put her hand on my sleeve.

I took it off, gently, and set it back in her lap.

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