Selma looks at us, wide-eyed. “Okay. How so?”
“Since Miss Ophelia died from uterine cancer, and never went to the doctor because she had no health insurance, we want to honor her memory by making sure it never happens again.” When Ellie gets excited about something you know it. Her hands swing all over the place.
Selma’s gazing at us in disbelief, with her fingers splayed across her breastbone. “How do you know the staff doesn’t have health insurance?”
“Miss Pearl told me,” I say, feeling proud of the bond we had already made.
“I’ve never thought about that before.” Selma props her chin on her fist. “It’s not something the members get involved in. That falls under the auspices of the House Corp Board.”
“Lilith Whitmore?” Ellie asks.
Selma nods. “Lilith Whitmore is the president, yes.”
“So we’d have to ask her?” I ask.
She nods again. Without a smile or a frown, just a neutral face. “I’m sure you’re planning on bringing it up at the new member meeting tonight, right? To see what the rest of your pledge class thinks?”
“Totally.” We both say at the same time. We look at each other and grin—simpatico in so many ways.
“Wait till you hear how we’re planning on raising the money,” Ellie says.
Then we tell her our idea about Eli Manning and selling the tickets for twenty dollars apiece. Ellie tells her all about getting her dad to arrange it and about how he knows Eli personally.
“So you really think y’all can pull this off?” Selma asks. By the lift in her voice I can tell she’s all in.
“I mean, we’ve gotta try. Right?” Ellie says.
“Absolutely.” Selma presses her lips together, looks off to the side. “If everygirl in our sorority bought one ticket, that would surely pay their health insurance for the first year. I don’t know anything about it, but it seems like that would cover it.”
“My dad would help with that, too. He knows about stuff like that.”
“If Lilith Whitmore doesn’t know how much it will cost, she can surely find out,” Selma says.
“Don’t you think the members will get behind it?” Ellie asks.
“I’m pretty sure no one has ever thought about our staff not having health insurance. But once they become aware, I have no doubt everyone will want to change things.”
***
That night at our new member meeting, when Ellie and I presented our plan, there wasn’t one person who opposed it. In fact, every single girl stood up and cheered. No one seemed to think selling five hundred tickets would be a problem at all, and there were a few who thought we might sell more. After all, Eli Manning is a sainted celebrity around here.
When someone asked who would make the final decision, Ellie got all excited. “We’re actually very lucky,” she told everyone, then glanced at Annie Laurie. “Annie Laurie’s mom is the House Corp President. She’s the one that can make it happen.”
Although everyone in our pledge class seemed relieved, that it was surely a no-brainer with Annie Laurie as a new member, I’m not so sure. Call it a sixth sense, but after the way Mrs. Whitmore treated my grandparents and me on Bid Day, something tells me there may be trouble looming. I, for one, do not trust the woman.
FIFTY-SIX
CALI
Right after our new member meeting, Ellie texted Mrs. Whitmore to set up our own face-to-face with her. She responded right back by saying she would be in Oxford the next afternoon and we could meet her at the House at four o’clock, an hour before dinner. All Ellie told her in the text was that we had an amazing idea and we couldn’t wait to share it with her.
Although Annie Laurie seemed to love our plan in last night’s pledge meeting, for some reason she didn’t want to be included in the one with her mother today. Who knows what that’s about? Personally, I think she’s making up an excuse. Something about a study date with an SAE. Yeah, right. No one has ever seen her study.
Mrs. Whitmore is waiting for us in the chapter room when we arrive. As usual, she looks like she’s stepped out ofVogue.She’s wearing a beautiful pants outfit with the same jewelry—theYurman—that Annie Laurie always wears. And also her Alpha Delt pin. Every time I see her she’s wearing it.
She must have gotten here early because Ellie and I are right on time. When she hears our footsteps she looks up from her Mac laptop and waves. “I’ll be right with y’all.”
“Right with y’all” turns into fifteen minutes, so Ellie and I stroll aroundthe chapter room looking at old composites, marveling over how small the pledge classes once were. It’s still hard to imagine my picture will be on next year’s composite in the foyer. Besides the thought of that, something else has lifted my spirits. Admitting the truth about my mother,andmy father, to Ellie has made me feel as though I’ve been set free.
