"Let me get this straight," Frank Ernest said, sitting hunched over his desk with one hand propped against his chin. "First, you say your dance team won't perform. Now you want the residents of this shelter to fill their shoes?"
"Exactly right," shot back Morgan, confident.
Arnold stood behind him, leaning against the wall, arms folded as his skeptical stare fixed on Morgan, who sat across from them, looking much too confident for what she was asking.
"My friends at school think your residents are drug addicts and welfare moms. They chose their fate. If it happened, they chose it."
"Your friends are losers," shot back Arnold. "Clueless."
"I agree. And this is a chance to prove them wrong."
Mr. Ernest rubbed at his temples and looked Morgan over. Wiser than her years, he thought. If he only knew! "How-- By putting on an amateur show?"
"I'll admit it's a long shot, but if it's promoted right, we'll have a chance. It's our only chance."
Sensing she was losing Frank Ernest she turned her attention to Arnold. "You said it yourself. Christmas miracles can happen."
Turning back to Mr. Ernest, she saw a pensive look crossing over his features, as if he was actually considering it. Could this be the glimmer of hope she was looking for? Alas, it was shot down when he gave a heavy sigh and sat back in his creaky chair. "The shelter is my only concern." He said, frustration in his tone as he turned to a stack of papers on his desk to signal the end of the conversation. "Arnold, tell the residents the news."
Arnold motioned to Morgan as they headed out of Frank Ernest office.
More downtrodden than ever, Morgan walked through the main room of the shelter, where Ashley was using every available inch of floor space as her own personal stage, attempting to twirl and pirouette about. Cup chased after her, and when she slipped out of a spin and landed flat of her butt, the kitten was the first to comfort her.
A chorus of snickers let loose from the corner of the room, where a group of children was watching.
"She's awful," a little boy hissed, scrunching his nose at Ashley as she clambered back to her feet.
Another boy nodded in agreement. "She should stop." the residents gathered in the main room of the shelter. The murmurs quieted as Arnold addressed them.
"I have some bad news," he said as he looked over the residents, at the people who depended on the shelter -- and him -- for survival. His gaze flicked to Morgan for but a moment before settling back on the people whose hearts he was about to break. "Due to unforseen circumstances, Miss Stern's dance team will be unable to perform."
Smiles dropped from the faces of the older residents. Their disappointment was palpable. Their one beacon of hope, snuffed out. Just like that. And all because of what-- Because a bunch of teenagers were too snobby to do something nice for people in need?
Morgan felt sick. The feeling only worsened when she noticed Esther standing at the back of the room, one hand clasped over her mouth as tears brimmed her eyes.
She couldn't just let it end like this, without even trying. Sure, having the residents themselves perform the showcase was a bit of a stretch, but it was better than not doing anything at all. She was sure they'd have to agree with her. This was their home, after all. They were more desperate to save it than she was.
"But the show will go on!" she said stoutly, peeling away from the wall and approaching the residents as they mumbled and stared at each other with confused looks, but little Ashley looked on with a smile, cuddling Cup close. The commotion caused Mr. Ernest to step out of his office. He watched in confusion as the residents and staff gathered before Morgan. Making his way to his assistant, Arnold, he whispered something, but the clueless assistant manager just shrugged his shoulders.
