Page 29 of Considering Us

“Okay, so Midsy,” I said, ready to shift gears. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Andrea groaned. “First of all, everyone on staff needs to call it by its formal name. It’s ‘Night of a Thousand Laughs.’ We have been trying to keep the humor aspect of the evening but move it away from scandalous pranks. Instead, we will have performances set up around campus that night. The improv troupe will perform in the auditorium. Then everyone will move to the gym for all three a cappella groups, who will entertain us with lighthearted selections.”

“Like what?” I asked, imagining Weird “Al” Yankovic or something along those lines.

“I believe the coed group—the Ponies—is planning to sing Harry Nilsson’s classic ‘Coconut’ song.”

“Okay,” I said with a yawn. I was ready to get to the part where she told me all the things I was responsible for.

She gave me a pointed look and continued. “And then we travel to the amphitheater for the faculty rock band.”

“It’s going to be maybe forty degrees out.”

“We’ll be providing hot chocolate and cider, plus we take attendance at each stop,” she replied. Which meantIwould be making these warm refreshments happen. “Besides, I want to keep everyone moving and make them very tired. And then, finally, they will venture to the dining hall for a late breakfast and karaoke.”

“That’s where I come in. In addition to everything before that.”

Andrea put her glasses back on her face and spun her laptop around so I could see it. On the screen were picturesof students very nicely dressed, sitting formally at a meal. “We also have a candlelit dinner to precede all the festivities. This is from last year before all hell broke out on this campus with the leadership. So, a nice dinner, followed by entertainment all around Rockwood with desserts available at each stop, and then a midnight breakfast.”

My head was spinning. “I need to serve them dinner and then breakfast like six hours later?”

She nodded. “Yes. We’re going to exhaust them. Then stuff their bellies and send them to bed.”

“So that they won’t terrorize the campus.”

“Precisely.”

I sat back in my chair and paused. “How well has this plan worked in the past?”

“Not well,” Andrea admitted. “But we’ve added the karaoke and breakfast, plus the faculty rock band. We’re hoping this will all add to their fatigue, and they’ll be too tired for hijinks.”

“Is a faculty rock band that much of a draw?” I couldn’t imagine who would be involved in such a thing unless it was made up of the twenty-two-year-old teachers. But given how early it was in the school year, it was unlikely they would even know about this “opportunity,” let alone have time to organize and practice.

“Oh, students find them amusing,” Andrea said with an air of distance like she was thinking of a million other things. She could have been distracted by the protestors, who were now chanting, “Connelly is a creep. Connelly is a creep.” She sifted through some stacks of books and paper until she found an old yearbook. “Here’s a picture from a while back. Ryland Dennis is the lead guitarist.”

I almost gagged but held back. “Fantastic,” I said with as little emotion as possible. “Do you care what I serve them at these meals and various dessert and hot beverage stations? Orshould I just come up with something?” My questions hedged on the border of sarcasm, and I knew I was taking a risk. As ridiculous as Andrea could be, she still was my boss, and I didn’t have any great employment options at that moment. And up until my schism with Kyle, I kind of was enjoying my time at Rockwood. Minus Ashlyn and the prying cell phone cameras ofThe Underground Stallion, of course. I loved my apartment; the fall had been warm and beautiful, and there was an ease and comfort to living on campus. I just wished Andrea wouldn’t keep springing these events on me.

“Whatever you want,” she muttered. “Just don’t let Marnie put anything in a box.”

“She hasn’t tried to do that in a while,” I replied. “Well, except for the box lunches we sent along on the geology field trip. But those were supposed to be in boxes.”

“She’s odd, right?” Andrea asked, her glasses slipping down on her nose. It was a strange question for such a quirky person to ask.

“Um, I don’t know. She takes me by surprise sometimes. I was not expecting to see her working at The Barnacle.”

“She’s a mystery. I put her in charge of dining temporarily because she’s been here the longest, but I soon regretted that. Just because someone is pushing fifty doesn’t mean they’ll be a good manager.” Andrea sighed when her office phone rang. The light on it had flashed multiple times since I had been meeting with her, but this was the first time her assistant had patched the call through. “Hello, Andrea Lark,” she said in a weary voice. “Oh, yes,” she continued, sitting up a bit straighter. “That’s fine. Tomorrow at ten works for me… I’ll see you then.” She hung up and stared at me for a moment. Her eyes looked sad and a bit desperate. “That was theNew York Times. They want to visit the campus and interview me. If I had said no, they would write the article without my input. The last thing I need is for onlyprotestors’ voices to be heard. People should get the other side, too.” She drummed her fingers on the desk and looked back up at me. “Devon?”

“What would you like me to prepare for the reporter?” I asked, knowing where this was going. “Cookies?”

“Thosecookies,” she said, looking back toward the window and the sounds of the protests. “You know which ones.”

...

“Are you sure this is a good time?” Adrienne asked as she arrived in the kitchen. It was mid-afternoon, lunch was cleaned up, and dinner preparations were starting, but as dining hall operations went, this was one of the quieter times of the day.

“Sure,” I said, getting out the ingredients for the cookies. I saw Marnie watching us interact out of the corner of her eye, and I wondered how much she knew. Itwasodd; students who weren’t part-time employees didn’t frequent the kitchen, and it was known to most people that Adrienne was not a student in need of extra cash. I decided to ignore Marnie and focus on Adrienne the best I could. “I make these cookies a lot, but Ms. Lark requested some for a meeting tomorrow, so I figured that would be a good first project for us to work on together.”

“I like these cookies,” she said. “I remember you bringing some to my house a few times. My dad liked to put ice cream in the middle of two of them and make sandwiches for us. He sometimes even rolled them in sprinkles for me. That was good.”

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