The Yearbook Committee Read Free

get my file.
    â€˜I’m going to need a bigger folder soon,’ he says. ‘We’re only two and a half weeks into the school year, and yet you’ve been in my office three times.’
    I stare at him in silence.
    â€˜And still reluctant to speak, I might add.’
    More staring.
    Now it’s his turn to sigh. He rises from his chair and walks over to the window that looks out on the school’s manicured front lawn. ‘We expect a certain level of appreciation from our scholarship students, Mr Fullerton,’ he says, rubbing at a smudge on the window. ‘I’m surprised that a student of your . . . background has not come to realise his good fortune and is willing to throw it all away for some reason that he won’t discuss.’
    He turns around and I bow my head, unable to look at him.
    â€˜Holy Family has a long history of awarding scholarships, Matthew,’ he says. ‘Once they’re awarded, the recipients work tirelessly to prove they are worthy.’
    He looks at me for emphasis.
    â€˜Education is a prized gift,’ he says. Like I don’t already know. ‘Until recently, you seemed to understand that. Your grades were impeccable, we had no issues with your behaviour. In fact, you and I barely interacted during your first year here.’
    â€˜No, sir,’ I say finally.
    â€˜But things have changed, and now I’ve found myself at a crossroad of sorts. You’re not a good debater, are you, Matthew?’
    â€˜I don’t believe I am, sir,’ I admit.
    â€˜No, of course, I probably would have known if you were,’ he says, giving me a fake smile. ‘Maybe you would have argued yourself out of this mess. Are you athletic?’ he asks, sizing me up.
    â€˜Well —’
    â€˜Mr Fullerton!’
    I turn around and see Mrs H standing in the doorway, smiling.
    â€˜And this is the third time in what — two weeks?’ she asks, looking at Mr Broderick.
    â€˜Something like that, Miss,’ I reply.
    She raises her eyebrows, then frowns.
    â€˜Would you mind stepping outside for a moment while I talk with Mr Broderick?’ she asks. I look from her to him and then sigh, picking up my bag.
    â€˜Just wait out there,’ she says, motioning to a seat in the hallway. ‘I won’t be long.’
    I strain to hear their conversation, but only manage to catch bits of it. Him: ‘Sneaking out again’ and ‘frustrating’ and ‘learn his lesson’. Her: ‘proper way to learn’, ‘mature’ and ‘meet in the middle’.
    I tiptoe to the door and lean in closer, trying to hear more.
    â€˜I thought we had agreed that the students would nominate themselves for that,’ he tells her.
    â€˜We did,’ she says. ‘Only one has put her name down: Gillian Cummings. We do have a long list for the formal committee, though.’
    â€˜Well, yes, they all know how to party, don’t they?’
    They both chuckle.
    â€˜OK, well, if you think that’s a sufficient punishment,’ he tells her. ‘But I am not —’
    â€˜Fabulous, it’s settled then,’ she says, opening the door. ‘Sorry for taking your time, Matthew. You can go back inside now.’
    I stand in front of Mr Broderick’s desk, bag in my hands.
    â€˜It seems Mrs Hendershott is willing to give you another chance,’ he says with his hands apart, as if he doesn’t understand why. ‘And in lieu of a punishment, she’s going to make you work for your position here . . .’
    My eyes widen.
    â€˜The school needs a yearbook. It’s a long tradition dating back to the school’s inception in 1932, and we’ve yet to miss a year besides 1944. War and all. You will be joining the yearbook committee.’
    â€˜But, sir . . .!’
    â€˜Would you prefer the debating team, or an athletics team of some sort?’
    â€˜I’d prefer to clean,’ I