The Education of Hailey Kendrick - Eileen Cook [14]
“I can understand that.” He caught my raised eyebrow. “You think that this is all there is to me? Good guy Joel? He’s such a great sport, smart. Heck, he even dresses well. You can hardly tell he’s the scholarship kid.”
My face flushed red. Evesham is ridiculously expensive, and the school board funds a few scholarships for kids who come from underprivileged families. Most of the scholarship kids end up dropping out; they don’t fit in. It isn’t that people try to be snobby, at least most people. It’s just hard to know what to talk about with them. You can’t really bring up your holiday plans to the south of France when you know that their parents might be on welfare. It doesn’t seem right. All the Evesham students might wear the same uniforms, but the scholarship kids never have designer handbags and shoes that were custom made in Italy. The kids who don’t drop out tend to be loners. They don’t even seem to want to hang out with each other. It’s as if they don’t want to create too large a target.
It was easy to forget Joel was there on scholarship. He wasn’t anything like the others. He was always in the middle of everything, laughing and cracking jokes. He never seemed bitter, or like he resented what everyone else had.
“I never think of you as the scholarship kid,” I said.
“My problem is that I can’t get you to think of me at all,” Joel said with an exaggerated wink, and he dodged when I tried to shove him in the side with my elbow. “Look, I know I’m lucky to be here at all. If you saw the public school where I grew up, you would think you were in Beirut. They have metal detectors at the door, the ceiling is always leaking—probably asbestos—and most of the teachers are only there because they couldn’t get a job at any decent school. Going here is a huge opportunity, and I get that. It’s going to mean getting into a good college and doing something with my life. People can say all they want that this is the land of opportunity, but the truth is, if you don’t get a decent education, you’re screwed.”
“Is this going to be one of your policy points when you’re president?”
“Better believe it. I’m going to make so many changes that they’re going to have to find space on Mount Rushmore to carve my face in next to Lincoln and Washington.”
“Guess your ego isn’t on scholarship, huh?”
“I figure if I act like I’m so great, the rest of you will just assume it’s the truth.”
“It seems to be working pretty well so far.”
“Yeah, but people around here are pretty easy to fool. Sheep, most of them. Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t mind appreciating how lucky I am to be here,” he said, “but I do hate having to be so damn grateful all the time. It’s like anything I do has to come with a caveat, that I never would have been able to do it without the kind contributions of the alumni foundation. I can’t even own my own success, you know? It’s like I have to share it with everyone.”
I thought about the alumni banquet Evesham holds every year at homecoming. There’s always a big call for donations, and last year, Joel was one of the people who had to get up and talk about how much he’d benefited from his Evesham experience. It had never occurred to me how that might have made him feel.
I touched his shoulder. “I think you’re pretty amazing, with or without the scholarship,” I said. “In fact, I’m counting on you being elected president someday so I can get invited to all those swanky White House parties.”
“Actually, I was thinking of making you my vice president. Lots of perks. You get your own office in the White House and everything. A jet, too. Not Air Force One, but still better than flying coach.”
“The vice presidency isn’t really my thing. I don’t mind it on student council, but I can’t see me doing