agreement in advance. “There can’t be a Rotary Club meeting now that Joe’s in the hospital. He’s the President.”
Molly pleaded with her mother, “Can we get Coke at the grocery?”
“I told you, you’re already getting bagel-butt, honey. No carbs after seven o’clock.”
“Well,” someone spoke up from the table next to them. Amanda turned to see her History teacher, Mrs. Collins. She stood and addressed the front of the room, her brow furrowed in concern. “Foreign exchange is a wonderful program, and a perfect opportunity for educating our students, Mieke, provided we have time to consider this as a community. In order to offer a secure environment for a visiting child—”
Mieke pounced, “Oh, it’s a done deal. We better be prepared, because the kid will be here before school starts.” She said, and looked proudly from face to face, but most had lost interest in the meeting and were tucking into dinner or resuming previous conversations.
“Hey, is the student a boy or a girl?” Amanda piped up, desperate. She poked Lindsay, attempting to garner interest and slow the progress of their exodus.
“It’s a boy,” Mieke declared, like a triumphant obstetrician.
“Well, how old is he?” asked Lindsay, finally catching on to an adventure.
Aunt Meghan had slung her purse over her shoulder and motioned for her companions to do the same, but she paused when she recognized the teenage hormonal enthusiasm in her daughter. “Where is he going to live?”
“He’ll live with a member of the club, of course,” said Mieke.
“Well, I can’t lodge a foreign boy in our house.” Amanda’s mom affected horror at the impropriety, “I have an under-age daughter.”
“Mom…”
“I don’t speak Italian, that boy can’t live with us.” Aunt Meghan narrowed her eyes at Lindsay’s pout, “Forget it.”
“Look, his name is Antonio, Antonio di Brigo, and he has to live somewhere.” Mieke’s face darkened a shade. “That’s exactly what we’re here to discuss tonight. Look, this is a really positive step for the club.”
“I don’t speak Italian either,” another person lamented from a nearby table.
“He isn’t supposed to speak Italian while he’s here,” Mieke explained, straining for patience, “That’s the whole point of a language emersion program, to learn the host country’s native language.”
“So he doesn’t speak English?”
“What was Joseph Robinson thinking, setting up a scheme like this, unbeknownst to the whole county, until now?” Ms. Collins said. “Mieke, do you have a specific plan to propose for the boy’s lodging?”
“Yes,” Mieke said, throwing up her hands, “How about Vanessa Matthews? They just renovated their entire basement, as we’ve all heard. They have plenty of room.”
“If that’s your plan, that’s my exit strategy. Come on girls,” Vanessa said, rising in unison with Steph, Kerry and Megan.
“You people are always going on about your kids, I thought you loved kids,” Mieke fumed. “Now you can’t stand the thought of hosting one?”
Vanessa shot her a look of contempt as the herd moved toward the door together.
Yeah, right. Amanda knew Vanessa had been waiting all summer for her kids, whom she so dearly loved, to go back to school and get out of her hair. She could picture her now, right after drop-off Monday morning, soaking in her bubble bath and sucking down chilled Chardonnay, with Shania Twain pumping on their new sound system: “Man—I feel like a woman!”
“Look, I’ll take him first.” Mieke stormed back to her table and snapped her laptop closed protectively. “We can figure out where he stays next later.”
And I thought she had such potential. Amanda watched her shove papers back into her briefcase, avoiding eye contact. Lugging her briefcase in one hand, she shoved past a few mingling diners to the bathroom, covertly wiping a tear with her silk sleeve. Someone needs a lesson or two in driving
Molly pleaded with her mother, “Can we get Coke at the grocery?”
“I told you, you’re already getting bagel-butt, honey. No carbs after seven o’clock.”
“Well,” someone spoke up from the table next to them. Amanda turned to see her History teacher, Mrs. Collins. She stood and addressed the front of the room, her brow furrowed in concern. “Foreign exchange is a wonderful program, and a perfect opportunity for educating our students, Mieke, provided we have time to consider this as a community. In order to offer a secure environment for a visiting child—”
Mieke pounced, “Oh, it’s a done deal. We better be prepared, because the kid will be here before school starts.” She said, and looked proudly from face to face, but most had lost interest in the meeting and were tucking into dinner or resuming previous conversations.
“Hey, is the student a boy or a girl?” Amanda piped up, desperate. She poked Lindsay, attempting to garner interest and slow the progress of their exodus.
“It’s a boy,” Mieke declared, like a triumphant obstetrician.
“Well, how old is he?” asked Lindsay, finally catching on to an adventure.
Aunt Meghan had slung her purse over her shoulder and motioned for her companions to do the same, but she paused when she recognized the teenage hormonal enthusiasm in her daughter. “Where is he going to live?”
“He’ll live with a member of the club, of course,” said Mieke.
“Well, I can’t lodge a foreign boy in our house.” Amanda’s mom affected horror at the impropriety, “I have an under-age daughter.”
“Mom…”
“I don’t speak Italian, that boy can’t live with us.” Aunt Meghan narrowed her eyes at Lindsay’s pout, “Forget it.”
“Look, his name is Antonio, Antonio di Brigo, and he has to live somewhere.” Mieke’s face darkened a shade. “That’s exactly what we’re here to discuss tonight. Look, this is a really positive step for the club.”
“I don’t speak Italian either,” another person lamented from a nearby table.
“He isn’t supposed to speak Italian while he’s here,” Mieke explained, straining for patience, “That’s the whole point of a language emersion program, to learn the host country’s native language.”
“So he doesn’t speak English?”
“What was Joseph Robinson thinking, setting up a scheme like this, unbeknownst to the whole county, until now?” Ms. Collins said. “Mieke, do you have a specific plan to propose for the boy’s lodging?”
“Yes,” Mieke said, throwing up her hands, “How about Vanessa Matthews? They just renovated their entire basement, as we’ve all heard. They have plenty of room.”
“If that’s your plan, that’s my exit strategy. Come on girls,” Vanessa said, rising in unison with Steph, Kerry and Megan.
“You people are always going on about your kids, I thought you loved kids,” Mieke fumed. “Now you can’t stand the thought of hosting one?”
Vanessa shot her a look of contempt as the herd moved toward the door together.
Yeah, right. Amanda knew Vanessa had been waiting all summer for her kids, whom she so dearly loved, to go back to school and get out of her hair. She could picture her now, right after drop-off Monday morning, soaking in her bubble bath and sucking down chilled Chardonnay, with Shania Twain pumping on their new sound system: “Man—I feel like a woman!”
“Look, I’ll take him first.” Mieke stormed back to her table and snapped her laptop closed protectively. “We can figure out where he stays next later.”
And I thought she had such potential. Amanda watched her shove papers back into her briefcase, avoiding eye contact. Lugging her briefcase in one hand, she shoved past a few mingling diners to the bathroom, covertly wiping a tear with her silk sleeve. Someone needs a lesson or two in driving
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