Carrie had to let several staff members go when she realized she couldn’t afford to pay them. The three of us stuffed envelopes, handed out flyers near the busy supermarket, and updated Carrie’s database of supporters. By five I was feeling a lot better and had almost forgotten the disaster that was the night before.
Carrie paid for a pizza for all of us, and we ate it eagerly around the big folding table by the wall.
“It feels like we’re making some headway,” Julia said brightly, looking up from her laptop to take a quick sip of diet soda. “I just confirmed five new friends on Facebook!”
But Carrie’s face remained inscrutable. “Great,” she said sarcastically, pulling the crust off her pizza. “That almost makes up for the five hundred or so we’ve lost since the whole recording debacle.”
Julia frowned. “Carrie, you have to stay positive,” she urged.
Carrie put down her pizza and took in a breath. “I’m trying,” she said. “But it’s really hard when the front page of the Boylestown paper looks like this!”
She pulled a Boylestown Bugle out from behind the table, and I gasped. There was a photo on the front page from the disastrous dinner, with Carrie standing at the podium, looking horrified as the manipulated recording played. LOCAL CANDIDATE CAUGHT ON TAPE INSULTING VOTERS, the headline screamed. In smaller letters, the headline asked, IS THIS THE END FOR THE KIM CAMPAIGN?
Bess and George looked as surprised as I was. “How long has this been all over the papers?” George asked.
Carrie shrugged. “Since it happened,” she said, folding the paper and putting it back behind the table. “But each time they run another story, we lose evenmore donors. It just keeps getting worse and worse. I’m almost out of money, cuz.” She poked at her pizza and groaned. “I really wanted to do something for this town, and especially for those high school athletes. But I’m beginning to think maybe I should quit while I’m ahead.”
Julia jumped up from her seat. “Carrie, no!” she insisted, walking over to her longtime friend. “You can’t just give in like that. You care too much about this town.”
Carrie shrugged. “But does this town care about me?” she asked. “They loved me when I was this big tennis champ. But now—I almost feel like the townspeople want me to move!”
“That’s not true,” Julia said. “Remember the elderly folks we talked to at the senior center yesterday? They loved your idea of bringing elderly volunteers into the schools.”
Carrie blinked, then nodded slowly. “Meeting with them was probably the one good point in my last week,” she agreed.
Julia narrowed her eyes. “And kids still like the sports complex idea,” she went on, as if speaking her thoughts as they came to her, “plus lots of parents. That’s still a really good idea, Car—some yahoo with a squirrel issue notwithstanding.”
Julia seemed to be going deeper and deeper into her own thoughts. Carrie looked over at George, shrugged, and took a bite of pizza. “Too bad good ideas don’t pay the bills,” she muttered, sipping her soda.
Julia’s eyes widened. “That’s IT!” she shouted, loud enough to make us all jump. We looked at her curiously.
“Why can’t a good idea pay the bills?” Julia asked, running back to her laptop and typing furiously. “The sports complex is still the best idea you have. What we need to do is throw a big event to get the town back on our side!”
“A big event?” Carrie asked disbelievingly. “Jules, have you not been listening? We don’t have money to pay the bills . Much less throw some big event!”
I looked at my friends and noticed that Bess’sexpression had turned all moony and thoughtful. Uh-oh.
“She’s right,” said Bess, standing up and smiling in Julia’s direction. “The high school athletes still support Carrie, and the town supports them.”
Julia looked up at Bess like she’d just invented the
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes