THE STUDENT COUNCIL

Billy Noble had grown up in less than three hours. With his jet-black hair combed straight back, white linen pants, and a matching jacket over a black crewneck T-shirt, he looked ready to lounge in the Hamptons. As Amy told him, he had let out the handsome. Sitting at the patio table after dessert, sipping coffee, he stared at Trisha Berman only when she was speaking – that had been Amy’s final bit of advice.

Google had borrowed one of his father’s sport coats and rolled up the sleeves. The bottom of the coat touched his knees when he stood, so he stayed seated in a chair – also an Amy suggestion.

Big Seven Three was a late arrival, wearing a football jersey and shorts. Google acknowledged that he hadn’t passed the dress code message on to Paul. Who had the balls to tell the Barn Door what to wear?

To the obvious delight of the boys, Miss Berman wore a short sun dress and cork wedges. With a perfectly-attended face and all the rolling honey hair, she was a movie star.

Amy’s mother had gracefully disappeared to the second floor before dessert.

Her father hadn’t come home at all. He wasn’t answering his phone either.

Like a skilled waitress, Amy moved around without notice. She busied herself refilling coffee cups, clearing dishes, cleaning the grill, and generally staying out of the round table discussion – while absorbing every word of it.

The single topic was the potential role of student government in improving the school environment and academic achievement. Google and Billy spit out facts and figures about math and verbal scores as if they actually gave a shit. Even Paul was impressed. Like a polished wingman, he deferred the final word on every subject to Billy.

The teacher had surprising insights of her own. She discussed endless sources of state, federal and private funding for innovative programs to improve student performance. According to her, Oil City High’s status as an academic bottom-dweller was a good thing. Using a sports analogy, she asked, “Which football team provides the greatest coaching challenge, an undefeated state champion or one that’s been winless for years?”

The council president provided Amy’s highlight of the evening. In his summary statement to Miss Berman, he said, “The bottom line is that you can’t teach empty seats. We have to be proactive in getting our young men and women to school.” She smiled at being quoted.

When the teacher announced she had to leave, Billy popped the question. “Miss Berman, I’d like you to consider becoming the council’s teacher advisor. That’s an honored position at most schools. We could benefit from your youthful perspective and enthusiasm.”

Overplayed, Amy thought. Grossly overplayed. Billy was genuinely funny when he wasn’t trying to be. She saw Miss Berman fight off a laugh.

The teacher looked around the table. “If Principal Johnson offered me that position, I’d readily accept. It’s the kind of opportunity I’m looking for. Thank you for the lovely evening.”

She asked Amy if they could share a word and walked off the patio pavers to the privacy of the back lawn. Amy followed while the boys celebrated victory with fist bumps.

Miss Berman touched Amy’s shoulder and waited for eye contact. “I felt a little bit ambushed when I arrived here tonight. You invited me to meet your family, not socialize with my students. If we’re going to be friends, and I hope we are, you need to know that I don’t like surprises.”

Amy was impressed. Straight to the point. She didn’t like surprises either. “I understand.”

Her teacher nodded and chuckled. “Now that we have that out of the way, I’d like to thank you for the great dinner and hospitality. Your home is magnificent. How do you feel about moving out of such a wonderful place?”

I have no intention of moving, Amy thought. Why did the teacher ask such a question? Oh, yeah. The damn sign in the front yard. “I guess my parents feel like the three of us have outgrown it. It only has the six bedrooms.”

Miss Berman tossed back her head and laughed. “Okay. You don’t want to talk about it. I can feel how much you love it. Who wouldn’t?”

“Thank you for coming.”

“A couple more things,” Trisha whispered. “You look amazing tonight. When you walked around with those flowers in your hair, with the late sun glinting off them, they became a golden halo. In your bare feet and that simple dress, you reminded me of old photos of my mother at your age. Beautifully unpretentious.”

Amy’s heart was suddenly racing. What an amazing thing to say! She looked down to the grass and noticed Miss Berman’s feet. The teacher’s toenails were glossy pink, just like her fingernails. Perfect like the rest of her. “Thank you.”

“And finally, about ‘invisible.’ I’m not going to ask you about that again. I’m looking forward to figuring that out myself.”

All three boys walked the teacher to her ten-year-old white Cavalier. Overplayed again, Amy thought. They returned to say good night.

“Amy, awesome finner,” Google said. “A fight to remember.”

Billy chuckled softly, still in mature character. “Yes, Miss Westin, a well-prepared and orchestrated gala. Give my regards to your parents.”

Paul extended a huge right fist with tape wrapped around a couple scarred fingers. She touched it gingerly with her own. “Thanks, Amy,” he winked. “You look great tonight. Never saw you in a dress before. I think Berman was jealous. She kept an eye on you all the time.”

Amy felt the heat of a blush. “Thanks for coming.”

Paul turned to the other boys. “How about a walk down to the river for a victory cigar?” He pulled a couple tightly-rolled joints from a pocket.

Amy nodded to Google. “I need a minute before you go.”

She walked off into the yard again, and Google was quickly at her side. “Favor?” she asked.

“I’m all sexed out for tonight,” he grinned. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I’ll hold my breath. There are a couple things you might research. Miss Berman talked about all those sources of money for special school programs and projects. Maybe you should start gathering a complete list.”

“Good idea. I thought that was interesting too.”

“The second thing is a background search. There’s a man named Roger Cooper selling cars for Noble Toyota.”

Google grinned again. “Raja Coopa?” Everyone mimicked the Aussie since he started appearing in commercials. He was a real ear-tickler.

“One and the same. Find out everything about him.”

“Why?”

Amy shook her head. “Last request. Trisha Berman. Everything about her too.”

Google lifted his eyebrows. “Already started that search for Billy. Nothing earth-shaking yet. Born and raised up in Erie. Her family owns a restaurant. She worked there since she was a kid. Got her B.S. at Mercyhurst University.”

“I already know the basics. Make some friends on the Facebook pages for her high school and college graduation classes. Find out what makes her tick. By the way, who shared her Facebook selfie yesterday? One of the other teachers?”

“That’d be correct. Berman friended some of them a little too readily. It was Old Lady Leonard from Home Ec. What a fitch!”

“Did you let William know that?”

Google cocked his head and stared. “Who the hell is William?”

“That’s what we’re going to call Billy from now on. It’s time for him to grow up. Tell him he’s officially William.”

With all her guests gone, Amy called her father’s cell again. Should she be worried about him? Should she be terrified? He always answered his phone. He always called if he was going to be even a few minutes late for dinner. When she asked her mother about him, the response had been a shrug.

Headlights lit the driveway and Amy exhaled heavily. The Ford pickup was home. She rushed to the truck to meet him.

When she opened his door, the old Grant Westin showed himself for an instant. His eyes grew wide. “What did I miss?” he asked. “You look like an angel. The prettiest girl in the world.”

Amy had to smile. Everyone knew her sister was the hottie and she was the nottie. All except her father. “I can have your dinner on the table in two minutes.” She hugged him when he stepped out.

“It’s been a tough day, Ames. A tough few years. We need to talk.”

His salad was in the refrigerator. The microwave heated his hamburger in a minute. She brought the plates to the patio table, where everyone had been so festive minutes earlier. Her father slumped in a chair, his back to the house.

“The food looks great,” he said, making no move toward it. “I’ve been in meetings for a few days ... with bankers and my attorney. I’m afraid I’ve let the family down. I’ve hit a bump in the road with the company.”

Amy knew it was a brick wall, not a bump, but sat attentively. She wanted to know everything.

“The company’s headed toward bankruptcy. There’s no way around it. Our lives are going to change. In a month or two, all my equipment will be auctioned off. The bank will take over the Allegheny Mall. Our other investment properties have already been sold. There’s nothing left.

“I’ve been offered a job as a construction foreman in Scranton. We’ll have to move there by November. Ames, I’m so sorry.” Her father’s eyes stayed dry, but the rest of his body was crying.

Amy watched him stand and wobble toward the house, an old man at forty-four. If only she could say, I’ve got your back. I’m going to make our problems disappear. I’ve figured out a way. But of course she couldn’t. Not ever. Instead, she rushed to hug him again. “We’ll get past this,” she said confidently. “We’re Westins.”

Before making the long climb up to her room, Amy wrapped her father’s dinner a second time and returned it to the refrigerator. Nothing in his message surprised her really, only the part about moving to Scranton. The company’s losses had been mounting for a long time. He had consoled his wife by explaining they’d become valuable deductions once the economy got going again. Unfortunately, deductions only mattered when there was profit to protect.

Her father had called her an angel. The time had come to prove it.