“And would you like to make a donation?” the volunteer asked, peering at the man through her thick glasses.

“As a matter of fact, I would.”

“How much?”

The man paused for a moment. “How far from the goal are you guys?”

The volunteer sighed and peered at the records, then named a sum. The man nodded. “I’ll donate twice that to the school, provided it all goes towards the art and music departments.”

The volunteer nodded, her eyes wide. “Yes, sir,” she replied quickly, making note. “And who shall we say is making the donation.”

The man grinned. “Let’s keep it anonymous, hm? If you have to say anything, just say that it was made in honor of Charise Marlow.”

“This is very unusual, sir,” the volunteer responded, “but as you wish.”

The man wrote out the check, signed it, and handed it over to the volunteer. “I like to help keep our city’s youth from becoming uncultured clods,” he said with a wink. The volunteer chuckled and wrote out a receipt, which she handed to the man. The man pocketed it and said cheerily, “Have a good day, miss.”


He turned and walked away from the booth. The plump blonde woman nearby turned and looked at him. With a gasp, she hurried over to him.

“Pres!” she called.

Startled by the familiar voice, he turned and stared in shock at the woman. “Vicky! I haven’t seen you in… wow, about eighteen or nineteen years. How have things been?”

“Boring, obviously, seeing as how you’ve heard nothing about me in almost two decades,” Vicky said dryly. “So, are you seeing some incredibly young thing who’s doing something here, or…?”

“Nah. Just came to give a little anonymous support for education and my kid. And you?”

“Figured I’d check out the local entertainment while I was in town, visiting my son. He goes to college not too far from here.”

“Really? My daughter goes to a local college. We should all get together for dinner sometime.”

The woman nodded. “Sure. How about in a few days, after I check my schedule?”

“Fine with me.”



“Okay, good, now set the tables somewhere near the middle of the stage,” Ophelia instructed Sheridon and Gideon. She, along with Emily, AJ, and Cy were dragging chairs into place.

“Tell me again why I let you talk me into doing this silly dance number,” Gideon panted.

“Because you love me like a baby sister,” Ophelia responded, flashing Gideon her most winning smile.

“The things we do for our friends, eh?” Sheridon asked, winking.

“So, why didn’t you ask Charise to join in with this?” S asked.

“We had a fight. Didn’t she tell you?” Ophelia answered.

“I’ve been busy practicing on my keyboard, all for today. I have it set up to where I can plug in my headphones, so that she wouldn’t hear. I haven’t talked much to anyone in the house.”

“I can vouch for that,” Sheridon added. “Gid and I had to bring dinner up to him a few times because he’s such a workaholic perfectionist.”

“I just want everything to be perfect.”

“Dude, there’s a fine line between love and just plain obsession, and you’re really pushing it,” Gideon commented.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s telling me that. How about something I haven’t heard yet, guys?” S grumbled.

“Don’t worry, S. Only a cruel, heartless snob would ignore it,” Ophelia said reassuringly. “As long as she reacts to it, you’ll be fine.” She looked around at the others. “Looks like everything is in place, so… positions, everyone!”



“What’s with the tables?” Mr. Rivers asked.

“Ophelia’s idea,” Ms. Gibson replied, smirking a little. “She and Emily did a movie marathon. Musicals. And… well…”

Mr. Rivers burst into laughter. “You mean they’re actually going to be doing that song…?”

“Yeah. And what’s more, they’re allowed to do it unedited.”

“Well, sure. The song wouldn’t make much sense edited, not that it makes much sense to begin with.”

Ms. Gibson playfully slapped Mr. Rivers’s arm. “You miss the point entirely,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.



“Viva la vie boheme!”

The audience cheered. Cy and S helped Ophelia and Emily off of the tables and then dragged the tables offstage, while the others grabbed chairs and did likewise.

“Ophelia,” S whispered, looking nervous. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“What?” Ophelia asked, distracted.

“I don’t think I can go on and do the song.”


Ophelia groaned and brushed her hair out of her face. “Look, if I can get Tacita and Cy to come onstage and make fools of themselves while I sing with them, will you do it?” she asked, trying to negotiate.

“Maybe. How stupid do you plan on making yourself look?”

“Really stupid.”

“How stupid is really stupid?” S asked.

“Umm…” Ophelia thought for a moment. “I was thinking of making the first song that one that I’m really embarrassed about knowing how to sing.”

S raised his eyebrows. “Wow,” he finally said. “That is embarrassing.”

Ophelia grinned. “And I think the second song will be a Beatles song. Not going to say which one.”

S snorted. “I just don’t want to have to hear about walruses and eggmen, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be singing it. That’s what Tacita is for.”

S looked puzzled, but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Just make sure she doesn’t get drunk.”

“Why?” Ophelia asked.

“When she gets drunk, she likes to do spoken-word versions of semi-naughty songs. Nothing like trying to explain to a coffee shop full of poets why your friend is reciting the 504 Boyz song I Can Tell.”

Ophelia snorted. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish. That was embarrassing for everyone involved.”

“Okay. Now let me go make a dolt of myself so you won’t feel so bad about looking stupid,” Ophelia said, trying to sound stern. She gave S a brief hug. “I know you’ll do fine, though. If not, well…” Ophelia trailed off. “Anyways, I’m off to go onstage.”

She waved at S, flashing him a broad grin. Ophelia, Cy, and Tacita headed onto the stage and took their places at various instruments. Ophelia smiled at the audience and said, “You guys have been great to us so far, putting up with semi-talented teens acting like this is High School Musical or something. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Ophelia, one of the anchors for Clique News Crash, and these are my friends Tacita and Cy. We’re going to be doing a couple of numbers for you. The first song is one that I think a lot of you will be surprised that I know. So, uh… feel free to laugh at me all you want. Hell, I’m laughing at myself, in my mind.”


The people in the audience chuckled at Ophelia’s self-mockery. Ophelia began strumming the guitar and, after several seconds, she began to sing:

“Words like love and happiness
Never seem to stand up, baby
When you put 'em to the test, yeah
You say that you're a poet
That your love's a work of art
But you can't play love by numbers, baby
Gotta play it all by heart…”

The people in the audience, not to mention her friends and classmates backstage, were astonished, trying to wrap their minds around what they were seeing and hearing: this goth (alternative, as Ophelia would rather be called) chick was singing this completely manufactured pop song and not only making it sound good, but she was singing it in a raw, bitter voice, as if the words were her own, expressing some personal experience. After the last note died away, the audience applauded, first quietly and then growing in volume. Ophelia chuckled and blushed, saying, “That’s enough attention on me for one day. I’m going to turn things over to my friend Tacita, who is making her way to the piano.”


Tacita waved to the audience. Ophelia continued, “Believe it or not, ladies and gents, Tacita has an awesome voice, which she is going to show off shortly. My voice is just about dead for the day since, as you’ve seen, I’ve been in a lot of the performances so far, including a few I wasn’t planning on being in. So, Tacita, whenever you’re ready…”

Tacita nodded and addressed the audience. “I want to dedicate this song to…” She paused and glanced up at S, who was standing in the wings, watching them. “…To a very close friend of mine.” She nodded to Cy and Ophelia. Glad we planned this out, she thought. Ophelia figured S would choke.

Tacita took a deep breath and began playing the piano and singing:

“Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better…”

About three minutes into the song, Ophelia noticed something that she did not want to see: Dunstan was in the crowd, and he was making his way over to Charise, who was seated on the aisle of a row.

“Oh, f**king hell,” Ophelia muttered. She hoped no one heard her. Ms. Gibson apparently heard, for she turned in the direction that Ophelia was looking, then turned to Mr. Rivers and said a few expletives.




Charise was chatting with a classmate from her college and did not see Dunstan coming over.

“Guess what, Valo. Apparently, some good-looking guy made a huge donation to this, in my honor,” Charise bragged.

“Yeah, Char, that’s nice and all, but you really shouldn’t be bragging. Besides, where’d you hear that from?” Valo asked, peeking out from over her glasses.

“Miranda, the chick with the glasses who volunteered at the donation table, told me! She told me that she couldn‘t tell me his name, but he was really cute.”

“Hm,” Valo replied, a noncommittal response.

Dunstan stood beside Charise. “And guess who that was that made the donation,” he said softly, leaning in close.

“Who?”

“Me.”

Charise raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Dunstan rolled his eyes. “Charise, who else here at this event has that kind of money?”

Charise looked around at the other attendees, who seemed to all be teachers, high school students, and college students. People who generally didn’t have much in the way of money. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she agreed.

Score for Team Diggory, Dunstan thought.



Tacita smiled warmly at the audience. “Thank you, thank you. And now, we’re going to turn things over to the incredibly talented Samuel Verona. It’s taking him a lot to perform for you guys, so please… be kind,” she said. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted Charise chatting with Dunstan. “Please be kind,” she added, more of a prayer than a request to the audience.

S came out onto the stage, and Tacita handed the microphone over to him, then took her place at an instrument. S sat at the piano and addressed the audience. “Hey, everyone. As Tacita told you, I’m… uh… not so great with audiences. Ironic, since the subject I’m majoring in has to do with performing. I’m going to do one song, and then I’ll be out of your way. I’m sure a lot of you out there know this song-- a few years ago, it was played on the radio a lot. It’s a piece of fluff; so sue me. But I feel that this song expresses all too well how I feel about a very special lady…” Here, he noticed that Charise was giving her full attention to Dunstan and not to S. “…Who doesn’t seem to be quite here. But… here we go, I guess...”

S took a breath to control himself, to keep himself from screaming in frustration, from letting loose a string of swears. After getting himself under control, he began playing the piano and finally started to sing:

“I know when he's been on your mind
That distant look is in your eyes
I thought with time you'd realize it's over, over
It's not the way I choose to live
And something somewhere's got to give
As sharing this relationship gets older, older
You know I'd fight for you but how can I fight someone who isn't even there
I've had the rest of you now I want the best of you I don't care if that is not fair…”


By the time S finished the song, Ophelia, Cy, and Tacita all noticed that Charise was not reacting to the song. She was ignoring it. Just like everything else in her life that she doesn’t wish to deal with, Tacita thought bitterly.

After S finished performing, Tacita took the microphone from him and said, “That was a wonderful performance, S. And I really pity anyone out there who didn’t appreciate that. You go on backstage and take a breather, okay?” S nodded and hurried offstage, preferably to find a good hiding spot and cry. Tacita watched S scurry offstage and then said, “My friends and I want to do one more song. As you guys probably don’t know, I’m a fan of the group Foreigner. And right now, I want to dedicate a particular favorite song of mine to my special friend Charise-- Cold As Ice.”

Tacita launched into a very bitter, angry rendition of the song, after which she said, “And now, I’m going to go get plastered. So, see you folks later.”