George looked like a deer caught in the headlights as his eyes met hers. He froze, as if petrified by her very presence. "Wha -- what're you doing in my... volunteer place?"
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and sighed; disappointed he was still trying to keep up the lie. "It's okay. I know."
A look of despair settled on George's face as tears welled in his eyes. "Then you also know it doesn't matter," he said, voice cracking before he finally broke down in tears.
"Oh, George," Esther said, suddenly appearing from behind Morgan, crossing the room to embrace her son.
"Look, you've still got a month," said Morgan softly, dropping her arms to her sides.
George looked up, sniffling as he took his glasses off to wipe his eyes. "And what's going to happen then? You think some guy in a red suit will slide down the chimney, hand us the money, and say 'Ho, ho, ho, your shelter's saved'?"
Esther scowled. "George!"
George tried to get a hold of himself with the sound of Bing Crosby Christmas music streaming through the room, seeming to mock his every breath. "Look around you," he asked Morgan.
She instinctively did, her eyes scanned across the sea of despair and homelessness surrounding her. Shabbily-dressed people, stinking, drug-and-alcohol addicted, transient and hopeless people-- All were unhappy, especially little Ashly and her scrawny kitten.
"If you saw any of us out on the street, would you help?" George asked.
A sick remorse hits her as, deep inside, she knew the answer. She knew it all too well.
"This is the one time of year where we're supposed to look at our fellow men and women as equals. To treat them with respect and show the human side of us. Yet, even now, people couldn't care less about us! It shows whenever they walk right by us. If people did help, like they 'promised' would most of us would even be in this situation?" George said, perhaps inadvertently reiterating Virgil's words.
Morgan looked around as the residents sat and stood with their heads hung, dejected, all too familiar with what he spoke of.
"There may be some here who want handouts," Esther said, squeezing her son's arm, "Most of us, however... all we want is a chance. That's it. But nobody -- not even the government will give us that chance. They cut our funds."
"And if the United States government can't help us, then what makes you think anybody else can?" George asked.
Maybe for the first time in her life, Morgan Stern was speechless, flat-out.
***
The shelter was all Morgan could think about the next day at school. After the final bell rang, she stood at her locker, absently chucking all her textbooks in her book bag, unable to recall which ones had been assigned homework.
"You missed rehearsal again," Laura said as she approached, bag slung over her shoulder. "Uncool, Captain."
But her words fell on deaf ears as Morgan was still caught up in her thoughts as she packed her bag.
"I called you about sixteen times yesterday. You think maybe you could return one?" Laura snorted and turned to walk away.
"What?" Morgan blinked as she looked at her friend.
Laura stopped and looked at her. "What is going on?"
Morgan shrugged and slammed her locker shut. "Long story."
"The dance is next week. We need to practice. The show, remember?"
"I know," Morgan muttered, about to bolt, but stopping in her tracks...
