The School Story: Chapters 11–17

And Dr. Sipes does not move. He cannot answer the challenge. He does not pick up the glove. It lies there smoldering on his desk.

“And, well, we want Natalie's mom to be the first editor to read the book, but we don’t want her to know Natalie wrote it because—”
“Because you want her mom to be objective—not be influenced one way or the other, right?” said Ms. Clayton.

Mr. Archer looked concerned. He said, “Is everything all right?”
“All...all right?” stammered Ms. Clayton. “Oh, oh yes, everything’s fine. I’m just...I...I’m just getting ready for my last class.”

When Zoe showed up at the Linden Room after school, Ms. Clayton didn’t mince words. She held up Zoe’s letter and the envelope of money and said, “Listen, Zoe. I just don’t feel right about this...."

She saw herself sitting in a heavy chair in the oak-paneled boardroom on the fifth floor, facing all the sober, frowning trustees of the Deary School.

She saw herself sitting in a heavy chair in the oak-paneled boardroom on the fifth floor, facing all the sober, frowning trustees of the Deary School.

Instead of Zoe’s money she grabbed her own billfold, opened it, and pulled out her MasterCard.

Her mom said, “No need to hurry. I’d like to get out of here early this afternoon, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Letha’s on the warpath, and my phone’s been ringing all day long. So bring your homework, honey. See you soon.”

Hannah shook her head and gave Natalie a wry smile.

She groped for the phone on her bed stand and punched the glowing buttons.

Zoe answered on the third ring, groggy and grumpy.

“It’s true, just like Zoe said! My mom raved about it last night, and she even mentioned it again this morning—I think she really wants to publish it!”

Zoe sat down at the workstation opposite Natalie, away from the glass wall and completely hidden by a study carrel.

On the bus Monday afternoon Natalie didn’t want to talk about the book. She was afraid she might jinx it or say something stupid and give away her secret. But just before they got to the terminal in Hoboken, her mom brought it up.

“The nerve of that woman! Talking to me that way...giving me an ultimatum! Unbelievable! Tell me—did you make some sort of promise to her? Think very, very carefully before you answer me.”

Hannah was suddenly desperate for a candy bar, so she walked to the elevator and headed toward the employee snack room on the fifteenth floor.

Natalie said, “Another one of those long meetings today, Mom?”
With a grim smile her mom said, “No, actually it was two short ones, both with Letha.”

She started to read the cover letter from the agent, and when she got to the name Letha Springfield, she stiffened. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth formed an involuntary frown.

Sending the manuscript directly to Tom Morton was a gutsy thing to do.

Once they were out of the building and down the block near where they caught their cab, her mom started to laugh and swing Natalie’s arm back and forth, almost giddy.