Skin Deep

Chapter 30

Amanda

            This place looks the exact same as the last time I was here. The classy office building downtown where I was interviewed for a job at Chez Noire is the same place where I’m meeting Herald Newman about a scholarship. I wring my hands nervously in my lap. Everything about this place triggers my memory of the fool I made of myself last time I was here.

            I watch the secretary for a moment, with her same pretty blonde hair, hoping to find some calm in her rhythmic taps on the keyboard. I find no such luck. I shift my attention to the glass sculpture behind the front desk.  It is some abstract piece, but it’s pretty. And fragile.

            The secretary looks up at me and smiles, “Mr. Newman will see you now.” I thank her and walk towards the familiarly large oaken doors and take a deep breath before entering Mr. Newman’s office.

            “Amanda James!” Mr. Newman greets me excitedly as if I’m a good friend he hasn’t seen in ages. I smile and shake his hand. He gestures for me to sit down and I do. I hope my hands aren’t shaking. I hope my voice doesn’t come out unsure. I hope I don’t screw this up. I hope Mr. Newman starts talking soon. I think I might throw up. This could be a lot of money, something I have never had to deal with before.

            The silence in the room is not uncomfortable, really. I just can’t stand to wait. Mr. Newman is just smiling and shuffling papers on his desk. Finally, after what seems like forever, he clears his throat. I hold my breath.

            “So, Miss James. I suppose you know why you are here?”

            I reach into my purse and pull out the letter. I try to sound professional as I reply, “I received this letter in the mail requesting a meeting with you. Something about a scholarship?”

            Mr. Newman sort of laughs, “Oh, dear. Please forget about last time; I hold nothing against you. Speak freely.”

            I let my shoulders relax and I suddenly can’t control my word vomit, “Okay, this scholarship. The letter was pretty vague. How much is it for? Do I have to do something to get it? Why am I even getting it?”

            “Alright, alright. Slow down. Let me explain,” Mr. Newman looks very excited. “Well, ever since your interview with me, I’ve been thinking. Why shouldn’t I hire you, even if my customers might be a bit taken aback? I went through your words over and over in my head. You are a rare kind of person, Miss James. You are politely bold. You know what to believe. You know what’s right. I am aware of your… financial situation, and I thought you deserved some help.”

            Mr. Newman leans in with a smile on his face, “So I created the Newman Noire Scholarship for you. Every year, if there is a worthy candidate, I will pick one college aged student who needs financial aid. They will be a person of admirable moral character and integrity. A person like you.”

 He pauses to let it sink in, and then finishes, “I will be funding their entire schooling, until they achieve a degree.” He leans back in his seat, and says the last part casually, as if it’s no big deal.

            My mouth hangs open. “I, uh…”

            Mr. Newman just smiles. I clear my throat and try to gather my thoughts. Finally, I manage to say, “Um, thank you.” My voice is small. “But, sir, that’s a lot of money. In ten years, you could be paying for ten kids trying to be doctors!”

            Mr. Newman sort of chuckles, “Well, I highly doubt that. Future candidates will have to be pretty darn amazing, considering the first recipient. Since I invented the scholarship, I make the rules. Maybe there will never be a candidate as shining as you; maybe you will be the first and only recipient. But if there are ten amazing people who want to be doctors, I’m glad to do it.”

            Then I’m crying and can’t stop, and Mr. Newman just politely passes me tissues. Finally, I look up at him and smile, a genuine grin. He simply nods.

            I can’t believe this. I never thought I was so deserving of such an award. I still don’t think so. If anything, Herald Newman is the fantastic person in the room. Who actually does stuff like this? It’s beyond incredible.

            “Mr. Newman?” I mumble through tears. “Why are you doing this? Really. I’m no superstar… there’s nothing so special about me like you think.” I sniffle loudly and positively disgustingly. But I continue, “You… you wouldn’t have to look far to find someone better than me. I don’t deserve something like this. I’m too… ordinary.”

            Mr. Newman just smiles knowingly and shakes his head. “Amanda,” he says and I suddenly feel like I’m getting the fatherly advice I’ve never known. “Sometimes, the people that seem the most ordinary are the rarest kind of people. You are extraordinary. And you deserve this.”

I let his words sink in, and as I do, I feel somehow lighter. Eventually, it’s time for me to go. I thank Mr. Newman profusely again, and turn to leave.

            “Miss James?” He stops me, my hand on the expensive doorknob.

            I turn back nervously. Oh my gosh. He was totally joking. I’m not getting a scholarship; I’m not really getting a future. It was a cruel joke. I know it, I know it, I know-

“Yes?” I cut off my own thoughts.

“I’ll see you at Chez Noire for training next Tuesday?”

“Sir?”

“If you still want a job, I’d be honoured to give you one.” 

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 Luke

            I’m passed out on my couch after a long day of doing pretty much nothing, when suddenly I’m startled awake by a pretty brunette slapping my arm wildly.

            I sit up slowly and groan when my head pounds. “What do you want?” I ask, pretending to be annoyed while wiping drool from my face. Truth is, I could never be annoyed with Amanda. I mean, not over something small like waking me violently from a nap.

            She looks absolutely… alive. Her eyes are shining and her cheeks are flushed, a big smile on her face. She’s wearing a semi- formal looking outfit and keeps bouncing up and down on the footstool where she’s currently sitting in front of the couch.

            “What?” I squint at her because there’s still sleep in my eyes.

            She holds her breath and then lets out her announcement, “I got a job!” A pause, then, “Oh, and free tuition to University for as long as it takes me to get a degree.”

            Still sort of sleepy, it takes me several seconds to register what she just said. When I figure it out, my eyes go wide, and I can’t think of anything appropriately amazed to say, so I just nod my head slowly.

            She laughs; I grin at the sound. I love seeing her so happy. I love that she is finally getting something good. I love that she wanted to share it with me. I wish I could freeze this moment to store away so the memory never fades, but I don’t want to miss experiencing the moment as it happens, either. So I pull myself out of my thoughts by wrapping her up in a hug. She doesn’t resist like she always used to. In fact, she holds me tighter than she ever has.

            She pulls back first and I feel a twinge of disappointment. But the feeling evaporates when she grabs my hand and pulls me towards the door.

            “Come on; you’re going to want to see Dianne’s face when I tell her!”

            We walk to the News Station to see Dianne rather than drive. I’m glad. Amanda let go of my hand, but every once in a while our fingers brush, and when I sneak a glance at her, her cheeks are pink.

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 © 2014 by ColourMeKylee. All Rights Reserved.