Chapter Forty-Two
What if we don’t win?
Are you saying I’m not enough of a prize for you?
Note tucked into Hayes’s jacket pocket
There are so many people here. The awards ceremony is the only time this weekend everyone from every Beta Club in the state will be in the same room.
It’s a huge hotel ballroom, but it’s not nearly big enough for all of these people.
Despite it being early January, the heat is stifling.
We’re all sweating in our overly professional clothes.
Hayes is wearing a suit. Navy blue with a white shirt and a black tie.
I’m literally melting here, and it’s only partially because of the temperature in this room.
I’m wearing a sleek black dress that’s arguably too stiff and professional for someone who’s still seventeen, but I literally care more about this knee-length, high-neck sleeveless sheath dress and black pointed-toe, ankle-strap pumps than what I’m going to wear to prom. I might wear this to prom, actually.
“I like the bow,” Hayes whispers as the people at the front of the room give out yet another award. My hand drifts to the back of my head, to the small black satin bow I’d used to pin back the hair at my face I always end up fiddling with when I’m nervous.
I smile back, and a loud cheer from across the room makes me jump. Some group from Anson County is really proud of their third-place winner in the accounting competition.
I really try to start paying attention after that, just so I don’t get caught off-guard by any rogue roars from the crowd.
There are so many awards. We could be here all day.
It was kind of them to give us programs that list the order of the award presentations.
It was deeply unkind of them, however, to put our category last. There are a million different subjects: math, accounting, geography, visual art, music.
No one from the Endeavour club has managed to win anything yet.
They make their way through the music awards into the visual arts categories.
Either this is taking absolutely forever (or I’m in the kind of fight-or-flight mode that makes everything seem like it’s moving in slow motion).
These categories pass by as achingly slowly as everything else has, and I barely remember anything.
Couldn’t even tell you what those awards were for.
I can’t hear anything above my own heartbeat in my ears.
Finally, finally, the judges start to explain our award: Excellence in School Improvement.
They describe the proposals the entrants had to send in, how many proposals they sifted through to pick the three finalists.
They explain the prize. They literally say it’s an honor to be nominated, and that almost makes me laugh. Almost.
Hayes’s hand tightens around mine, and I doubt the capillaries in my fingers are getting any blood.
The other two clubs’ proposals are incredible.
A Robeson County club wants to build a basketball court for the elementary school that feeds into their high school and set up a league with a volunteer coaching program for the kids.
The other club wants to expand their school’s library and replace a bunch of decaying textbooks.
I wouldn’t blame the committee at all if they chose either one.
This has already become the longest award presentation of the entire day, and I am well and truly fidgeting in my seat. Hayes would be pacing right now if he had the space.
I start telling myself that it doesn’t matter if we win.
We’ll find another way to get the money; that we’ll make our plan happen regardless.
We’ve already done some good. We’re already leaving our school better than the way we found it.
I think of Piper and Esha and Luke and Bryce.
And peer-to-peer counseling doesn’t cost anything, I remind myself—we can still do that no matter what.
Starting the conversation about mental health at Endeavor didn’t cost anything, either.
Then I hear it.
“Endeavour High School.”
That’s us.
We won.
I don’t know who’s speaking or what’s happening, but everyone around me jumps out of their seats. Hayes’s hand flies from mine as he stands, and then he’s staring down at me from his full height. The seemingly disembodied voice is still speaking.
“President Nova Carter and Vice President Hayes Collins. Their club is led by Faculty Advisor Mrs. Claire Jacobs.”
Hayes grabs my hand again, this time to pull me to my feet. I’m frozen, and everything has gone from slow motion to moving at disorienting speeds.
“Come on, Novella,” he says, letting me walk in front of him with one of his hands at the small of my back. “That’s us.”
That’s us.
We walk up the makeshift stairs to the stage, and the lights are so bright up here. I try to shake the appropriate hands, but I think I’m just shaking in general. Someone hands me a medal and a certificate, and I couldn’t pick anyone on this stage out of a lineup because I’m not making eye contact.
They ask us to take a picture, and we line up in front of the dazzling lights. Hayes throws his arm around my shoulders. I chance resting my hand in the back pocket of his dress pants. He grins in that wide-open way that’s nothing but an expression of light and fresh air.
At that moment, I finally look up. The entire Endeavour row is on their feet, which I sort of expected. Mrs. Jacobs is even clapping her heart out. My eyes drift toward the middle of the room, where the Campbell High School group is. The only other high school in my hometown.
They’re all standing too. Every single one, I notice as I squint my eyes to focus.
Every single one of them, except for those two.
Him and the Other One. They’re looking basically anywhere else, and the sight of them makes me laugh.
I actually laugh. Out loud. In the middle of accepting the biggest award I’ve ever received.
And I keep laughing, because the idea that I’m up here with Hayes, and they’re down there intentionally not watching me succeed is hilarious.
It’s a gift. And it’s a freedom I didn’t think I’d ever have. Not from them.
Eventually, we end up shuffled off the stage, and the ceremony ends right then.
The entire Endeavour row comes barreling toward us, and it gets much more chaotic than Mrs. Jacobs can keep a lid on.
There are hugs and congratulations. Hayes brushes up against me in the thrall.
He high-fives someone I can’t see over my head, and he tucks me under his arm.
He presses a barely there kiss to my temple. My favorite kind.
They send us that picture later. I’m nearly doubled over laughing, all of my professionalism in tatters. Hayes is winking at me. The three state Beta Club officials on either side of us are wearing matching black suits and pasted-on fake smiles.
I hang it on my wall beside Darcy and Lizzy.
THE END