“We’re going to have to cram all forty students—freshmen to seniors—into Judy’s room,” Mr. Wilford continues, like I hadn’t already connected those dots.
“I understand,” I eke out, willing my chin not to quiver.
“We thought we’d have enough left in the budget to fund another section,” he says. “Splitting the grades would have been preferable. Alas …” His voice drifts off, taking with it my final shred of financial stability.
Alas.
I glance at Bridger. As expected, his jaw is rigid.
Mr. Worrywart is worrying about me again.
But I’m still desperately clinging to hope. “What about the money we got from that anonymous donor last fall?”
“That’s long gone.” Mr. Wilford sighs. “Renovations on the gym and the theater soaked up every last penny. Unfortunately, damage from the storm was a lot worse than the estimate. Mother Nature really did her worst with that one.”
“Worst. Right.” I turn my back, so Bridger can’t see my eyes welling up. “I’d heard those donations would be recurring, though.”
“I’m afraid Stony Peak won’t be seeing anything more from the donor this year,” Mr. Wilford says. “Or possibly ever.”
“Who’ssaying that?”
“Superintendent Dewey heard from the donor this week. The money is on hold. Indefinitely.”
“Okay. Wow.” I expel a trembly breath.
“I wish there were more I could do,” he says. “You’re one of our best teachers, and I know you were counting on the job.”
“Yeah, I really was.”
Understatement.
“If you want to take on a sixth class in the fall, I can give you first dibs,” he offers. “Of course, that won’t help you this summer. And you’d have to give up your prep period, but …”
But.
I might not have a choice.
“I’ll think about it.” My voice wobbles. “Thanks for the update.”
“Of course. Have a good?—”
Rude or not, I hang up before Mr. Wilford can finish his sentence. Bridger crosses the room, his body tensed, ready to spring into action.
He puts his hands on my shoulders, while I stand there frozen. “What happened?”
“I’m fine.” The words crack in my throat. “Everything is fine.”
Except I just lost half my summer income. And my dad’s on the brink of needing full-time care. Even with my salary, his health benefits, and social security payments, we’ve barely made a dent in the mountain of debt from my mom’s medical bills.
“Loren.” Bridger’s gaze holds steady.
“I’ll be all right.” I fight the tears. “I will.”
“I know.” He gathers my body to him and wraps me in a big warm hug. “Tell me anyway.”
His hug is the last straw.
Words start gushing out of my mouth like water from a firehose. All the words, sniffled against his chest.