Darla came up behind me and whispered, “Rumor is you’ve got a wad of cash. Is that true?”
“What? No! I mean, yes, but I… I’m not bidding.”
“Oooo, girl, look at you. You feelin’ all right?”
I wasn’t. I felt sick to my stomach and shaky in the knees.
“I’m fine,” I told her. “Fine.” She looked from me to the stage and back to me.
“You got nothin’ to lose but your self-respect.” “Stop it!” I whispered at her fiercely.
It felt like I was having a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe.
I felt light-headed and wobbly—like I wasn’t in control of my own body.
Darla said, “Maybe you should sit down.” “I’m fine, Darla, I’m fine.”
She frowned at me. “I think I’ll stick around to make sure.”
The Booster Club president, Mrs. McClure, had been fluttering around the basket boys, fixing ties and giving them last-minute instructions,
but now suddenly she was slamming her gavel on the podium, calling into the microphone, “If you’ll all settle down, we’re ready to begin.”
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