A Penny's Worth (The Cephas Bourdon Series) (15 page)

“Right now, unhealthy food is cheapest, so the poor class buys unhealthy food. We know that the poor class presents the largest financial burden on our government. If these people could afford healthy food, obesity would decrease, and diabetes would, as a result, decrease.”

Elvin raised his hand. “Why is diabetes such a problem?”

“Elvin!” the teacher chastised. “Wait until the end for questions.”

“No, no
—
it’s fine. Please: ask me about any concerns or questions you may have about my ideas,” Mr. Nudd offered. “Now, to answer your question: diabetes is very costly. A diabetic has to buy insulin, which can be very expensive, and he must visit the doctor every so often
. T
hey must always check their blood sugar levels with new needles and supplies
—
a virtually infinite cost. Also, diabetes introduces, directly, a plethora of new health problems. If diabetes was eliminated, the savings would reduce government healthcare strains. If the government no longer needs to set aside so much money for health care, especially for those who can't afford the care, they won’t need to raise taxes. Thus, we help the lower class as well as the upper class. This would also raise the status of the lower class, thus bridging the gap between the lower and middle class. Therefore, people of every societal status will benefit.” He walked up to the whiteboard and uncapped a red dry erase marker.

“Now
—
this is only domestic," he continued, hitting the marker against the board. "Hunger is the unsolved worldwide problem. We are currently paying farmers not to farm, and people are going hungry. The government already buys food from farmers to support humanitarian needs. Here is my proposition.” He began writing words and arrows all over the other half of the whiteboard. The diagram actually made sense; that is, his idea seemed legitimate.

“If we pay farmers
to
farm, and
half
of the new produce goes into the market
—
thus lowering the cost of food
—
and half goes toward humanitarian purposes, we can eliminate some of our problems. Not only are we directly lowering food cost, but when we set aside land reserved strictly for humanitarian purposes, that food is no longer comi
ng out of our market’s food. T
herefore, more food is available in the market, thus raising the supply and lowering the cost.”

“But what about the market? Won’t farmers go out of business because they don’t make enough money on their produce?” I blurted out from my seat, trailing off in the end as I realized I hadn't raised my hand.

“Good question,” Mr. Nudd responded. “Many people will be skeptical of this idea for that exact reason: we can’t interfere in a stable market. However, the government is like the farmer’s client. They pay the farmers for their produce and do with it as they please.”

“But isn’t that big government?” I rebutted. “Most people don’t like the idea of the government controlling our market.”

Mr. Nudd smiled. “Excellent point,” he replied. “However, the government is
currently
controlling the market by paying farmers
not
to farm. They would simply switch their agenda and pay them to farm. Farmers would make the same amount of money, but food prices would go down. The farmers wouldn’t be forced to farm, but the government would be their biggest client. Our government doesn’t want the economy to fail either.”

He raised his eyebrows in a victory pose and turned to face the whiteboard, pulling the third board in front of the diagram he had drawn. He pulled out a black dry erase marker and wrote in all caps the word,
Volition
. He spun to face the class.

"Does anybody know what this word means?" he asked, replacing the lid on the marker. The class was silent. A few students probably knew the meaning of the word
—
I did, but I wasn't going to sound like a know
-
it
-
all. Mr. Nudd's eyes scanned the classroom.

"Volition," he stated, "is the ability to choose according to free will." He paused, probably for impact.

"The government has a choice between helping the economy . . . or helping the economy
and
the people. You have a choice," he added as if the idea was just coming to him.

"You can choose
—
of your own volition
—
whether you will contribute to the solution . . . or the problem."

The bell rang and students got up from their seats, filing noisily out the door. I remained in my seat and watched Mr. Nudd erase the diagrams on the board. He looked over his shoulder, then looked back at the board and continued his erasing.

“You’re quite a smart girl,” he commented, the eraser moving in circular motions across the whiteboard. Startled by his unexpected comment, I fumbled over a response.

“How’d you come to like politics?” he asked, turning away from the board as he saved me from an awkward reply.

“How do you know I like politics?” I responded. What an odd question.

“Well, I just figured as much since you were actually listening to a guest speaker in a high school econ class.”

I couldn’t suppress a smile and conceded, “My dad always enjoyed political discussions, so that was usually the topic at our dinner table.”

“Really? What did you usually discuss?” he asked, intrigued.

I stood to leave. “Oh, just normal stuff. Who was running for president, who had the best ideas for saving the world
—
kind of like the discussion we just had. He had some of his own ideas, too, though nothing ever came of them. Shocking, eh?” I smiled and picked up my
book bag. “I’d better be going.
I have class in a moment. Thank you for the discussion.” I smiled and turned to leave. I had nearly reached the door when Mr. Nudd called out to me.

“Do you have your own idea of how to save the world?”

I paused a moment and, without turning, responded, “Which part of it do you want to save?”

“Can’t we save the whole thing?”

“Impossible
—
you have to choose.” I paused as a smile crept across my face. "Volition only goes so far." With that I heaved open the heavy door and entered the busy hallway. Stepping into the crowd, I nearly fell forward into Cephas, who walked by just then; he looked startled, but pleasantly surprised.

“Hey, gorgeous. Losing your balance?” he asked, lifting me to a standing position. I saw the muscles flex in his biceps as he steadied my body.

“Oh, I was just, um. I was
—
sorry. You kind of, um, distracted me for a moment,
” I stammered.
I couldn't speak while he was touching me. “I was just, um, in that class right there.” I gestured toward the political science classroom. Did he just address me as gorgeous? Perhaps he wasn’t fed up with me and my emotions after all. He released me and smiled.

“We had a guest speaker,” I finally explained.

“Oh, yeah? Was he any good?” he asked. Small talk
—
that was a bad sign. I didn't know how to act around him after last night, but we began walking down the hall together.

“Really good, actually,” I muttered, adjusting my book bag.

“Hey, are you going to the game tonight?” he asked suddenly. I glanced up at him.

“Well, I used to go, but I don't think I care to go anymore,” I said, smoothing my polo shirt and tucking my hair behind my ear. Why was I so nervous?

“I hear they've got a new point guard.”

“Who?”

“New guy. Gorgeous blue eyes.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smirk.

“Why?”

“The old point guard is . . . temporarily out of commission. Unfortunately, though, he
will
be attending the senior trip.”

“That is a tragedy,” I agreed sarcastically.

“So you'll come?” he asked, grabbing my hand. His eyes were sky blue, his smile bright white. He looked so hopeful.

“Sure,” I offered quickly. “I'm sure Marian wants to go anyway.”

“Great,” he responded. “I'll see ya there.” He flashed his smile and turned away, pulling a phone out of his pocket. His head craned back and he threw up his hand in a small wave as he raised the phone to his ear. I stood breathless, committing the blue of his eyes to memory in case he came to his senses and realized I was more trouble than I was worth.

****

“Do you think my hair would look good with purple in it?” Marian held a clump of hair, eying the ends with distaste. “I need a haircut,” she pouted, releasing her dark hair and folding her arms.

“So call your sister,” I offered. “She's so good. Remember when she fixed that awful bleach job I did on my hair?” Marian giggled and crossed her legs. She placed her hands delicately on her knee and pretended to watch the game. The ball traveled up and down the court. Cephas was leading the game in points, and he had been in the entire time, seemingly without fatigue or exhaustion. Three seconds counted down on the clock and Cephas shot the ball, hitting the basket dead on with the buzzer. It was unnecessary though, since the score was 101
–
85. The Thunder had won another one. Cephas pulled up the front collar of his basketball jersey and wiped the sweat from his face, though nothing could clear the smile plastered there. The stands poured onto the gym floor, cheering and whooping at the victory. The crowd followed Cephas, congratulations pouring over him. He smiled, thanking and nodding at gawking fans. He walked across the gym toward me. I nervously tucked my hair behind my left ear.

“I gotta shower, but then you wanna get outta here?” he asked. His blue eyes sparkled from exertion as sweat rolled off his shaven head. I nodded without getting out of my seat, an anxious smile flood
ing
my face.

“Wait
—
are you two
. . .
together?” Marian asked in shock. Her valley
-
girl accent was thick at basketball games. I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if he even likes me.”

“Hello! Girl, he is sooo into you! Oh my gosh, did you two make out?” Marian had a glint in her eyes; she always got excited about relationships. As if she didn't have enough of her own.

“Wait
—
does Chase know?” she asked. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes again.

“Chase
—
um
—
Chase and I are over.” I replied.

“Girl! How come you didn’t tell me?” Marian looked hurt, but I knew she was just making a face. She would be too excited about my new romance to hold a grudge for very long. I hoped she wouldn’t ask about the break up. It was embarrassing that Chase had hit me
.
I shouldn’t have stayed in an abusive relationship for so long. He hit me before, but never that hard. I was glad Marian hadn’t gotten outside it time to witness Chase’s behavior. My dad would be mortified if he ever found out. I shook my head to dispel my emotions. Looking across the gym, I saw Brandon heading toward us. He was about ten feet away when he caught Marian’s attention
. H
e nodded his head upward and spun back in the direction he had come. Marian stood beside me.

“I gotta go. You goin’ to the party tonight?” Marian asked.

“Probably. I don’t know. If I don’t, I’ll see ya tomorrow on the bus.” I smiled. Girls were usually annoying, but I really liked Marian. She was a good friend, especially when it mattered, even though she was usually obsessed with her own dramatic life. Marian picked up her oversized, bright pink bag and lighted off the stands. She walked over to Brandon and turned, waving with energy at me, freshly polished nails glistening in the light. I waved back and stood from my seat, wandering out into the crowd. The gym floor was covered with people. Bright, fluorescent lights flooded the stands. Crowded doorways made for slow exiting, so I just moved along with the herd of people, not looking anywhere in particular. I pulled my purse closer to my body after bumping into somebody, muttering an apology as I scooted past a circle of chatty adults. An arm slid around my abdomen and pulled me toward the door. I didn't have time to react before my captor pushed the door open and released me.

“Cephas,” I breathed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” he smiled, steadying my unbalanced body.

“I think you enjoy frightening me,” I retorted. He grabbed my hand and walked backward, a full grin across his face.

“Let me make it up to you,” he offered.

“You look overly happy,” I commented, following him across the parking lot.

“Shouldn't I be?” he asked.

“What for?”

“First of all, I just won one of the last games of the playoffs,” he started.

“Oh, you did, huh?” I countered. “I thought your team won.”

“Well, they helped,” he said, winking at me. “Plus, I'm out celebrating with a gorgeous girl. It doesn't get any better.” I swallowed, unsure of what to say to that. Last night kept flashing through my mind
—
the longing, the romance, and unknown.