“You’re preaching to the choir.” Dr. Tyree smiles and tips a picture frame in my direction. “I have a twelve-year-old daughter.”
“So you understand the importance of making sure they’re engaged.” I open the folder and slide out one of the papers. “I’m proposing an interactive program. Although a park has been lined up to host the original proposed project, I’d like my expanded project to be held at the university, with the permission of the school, of course.”
He watches me, his face expressionless.
“Each middle-school-aged child in the program would pick a schedule of courses that would last for a week or two.” I then explain my concept, giving several ideas for courses and how the scheduling would work.
He looks over the document I gave him and removes his glasses. “This is a very ambitious project, Lexi.”
I nod my agreement.
“Do you think you have enough time to pull this together and implement it this year? You’re only a sophomore. Perhaps it would be better for your sanity if you plan on launching it next summer.”
“While I understand your concerns, Dr. Tyree, I’m confident that I can pull this together.”
A grin tugs the corners of his mouth. “One thing that I’ve learned since you transferred to Southern last fall is that you like a challenge. I suggested this independent study period after you did such a wonderful job coordinating the fundraiser for the charity last fall. If you’re going to take on ambitious projects, you might as well get academic credit for it. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”
“Thank you for your confidence.”
“It’s well earned. How’s the play coming along?”
I tell him about the strong early ticket sales and the support from local businesses. “And the play is actually pretty good too,” I joke. “Despite my guest-star appearance.”
“This work we’re doing with the charity is good for the relationship between the university and Hillsdale. I’ve always found it ironic that such an elite university is located in a town as blue collar as Hillsdale. It’s caused a lot of animosity between the citizens and the students. This joint project gives both sides the chance to work together and will hopefully ease tension.”
“And help children in need.” That’s far more important to me than how the university gets along with the town, although I’m smart enough to know that I need both sides to be receptive to my ideas for the summer program in order to get the results I want.
“Yes, of course.” Dr. Tyree says as an afterthought. “Help children in need. Good luck tonight. I’ll be there in the audience.”
I leave his office, planning to grab some food at home before heading to the theater for opening night. Everyone is bound to be jittery, but surprisingly enough, I’m not anxious about the opening now that everything has been set into motion.
As I head across campus, I decide to stop in the math building and say hi to Reed. Yet another student quit in the math lab, so he’s been under a lot of stress lately. When I walk in, he’s at a table talking to a guy whose back is to me. I figure he’s tutoring the guy until I get close enough to overhear their conversation. Reed’s giving him instructions on how the lab works.
My brother looks up and smiles when he sees me. “Lexi. This is a surprise.”
“I thought I’d drop in and say hi. I know Fridays are late for you this semester, so I’ll be gone when you get home.”
Reed stands, looking down at the guy across from him. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Now I feel guilty. It’s obvious he’s training this guy to take the recently vacated position. “You don’t have to stop what you’re doing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I could use a break, and I’m sure Ben won’t mind waiting a minute.”
I follow him into his office and he shuts the door. “I’m glad you stopped by,” he says with a smile. “Both of us have been so busy for the last few weeks that I feel like I haven’t seen you for days. How are you? Caroline says everything’s ready for opening night.”
“Well, as long as no one’s expecting Broadway, I think it’ll go well.”
“That’s not how Caroline put it.”
“That’s because she stays backstage.” I tilt my head with a grin. “So she’s missed a lot of the actual play. But it’s a comedy, which helps cover most of our screw-ups.”
“That’s the spirit.” There’s no sarcasm in his voice. “I know what a perfectionist you can be. I’m proud of you for letting go a bit.”
His words make me stop and think. I’ve always wanted things to be done right—we’re both like that—but maybe I do need to let go. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we can’t control everything. If I don’t let some things go, they’ll eat me alive.”
The recognition flickers in his eyes, quickly followed by anger.
We’ve never talked about what happened, not explicitly. Part of the reason is that Reed never brings it up. I know why, and it’s not just that he doesn’t want to upset me. It pains him that something so horrible happened to me and that he couldn’t do anything about it. It’s why he’s so overprotective now. My therapist has pointed this out to me multiple times.
“Not to worry, big brother.” I kiss him on the cheek. “It’s called growing up.”