I’m so thankful.
But then Franks is telling me that Ty is going to post the total amount of money we raised on the big movie screen at the back of the stage, and that I’m supposed to thank the crowd for coming, so I do, with BBB in my arms.
When I turn around and point to the movie screen at the back of the stage, behind The Hard-Working Brothers’ drum set, Ty does his computer thing, the $0000.00 numbers on the huge screen start to spin and “We’re Not Alone” by Dinosaur Jr. starts playing very loudly, probably because Ty knows it’s one of my very most favorite songs.
$375.15 flashes on the screen.
People cheer.
I nod and think, not bad.
But then the numbers start to spin again.
$657.15
Nice!
People cheer even louder.
$2,019.89
People start to cheer like mad.
$3,998.23
I’ve accomplished my goal!
I’m so happy.
$5,002.11
Could we have possibly raised that much?
What will we do with the extra money?
I look back behind the stage curtain and Franks and The Five are smiling at me. People are clapping like mad now. Everyone is smiling, and I notice that there are people crying in the audience, which makes me feel very strange.
$7,628.54
This can’t be right.
$23,425.76
I almost crap myself.
$62,981.72
“What is going on?” I yell to Franks, sorta laughing now, because there is no way we raised that much money.
He winks at me from offstage.
$121,521.09
Suddenly I notice news cameras in the aisles, camera crews and news reporters.
$215,671.87
The last number flashes on the screen several times and then the words Grand Total appear for a few seconds.
Suddenly—Bobby Big Boy and I are standing on the stage alone now, and the auditorium is completely silent.
The screen goes blank.
What the hell is going on?
These words flash up on the screen:
A Message From Amber’s Nemesis
Suddenly, Joan of Old’s head is on the screen, which completely shocks me for obvious reasons. The shot is a close-up, so her wrinkly face is gigantic. I can see the pillow behind her head, and it looks like she is having trouble breathing. Her wrinkly eyelids look really pink and her skin looks like wax, or maybe ancient cheese.
“I’m probably already dead by now,” Joan of Old’s pink wrinkly enormous eyeless head says. “For those of you who don’t know, Amber and I used to battle every Wednesday afternoon. Her strange little boyfriends recorded this several days ago, which was fortuitous, because I am probably gone and buried by now, yes—but especially because I vowed to make Amber cry before I died, and I always keep my word, Ms. Appleton, Princess of Hope. Today is the day I defeat you, once and for all. The doctors say this is the end of the road for me. It’s about time. My body is going to return to dust. Good riddance! Now I understand the town is having some sort of pep rally for you because of what happened to your mother and because you were so constantly on your guard that you are no longer able to defend yourself, like Nietzsche said. I hear you’ve lost hope, and—regardless of my philosophical views—you’re far too young for that. What will you have to look forward to in old age, if you become a nihilist before you hit eighteen?”
Joan of Old starts coughing very badly here, but then recovers.
“I want to say two things to you before I die. One. My Lawrence was a German philosophy professor, hence my obsession with Nietzsche. Here is a quote I never got around to sharing with you: ‘We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.’ That was my Lawrence’s favorite quote. He used to dance me around the house every night. Every. Single. Night. And how we would laugh. He was a beautiful man, who died far too young, but he would have absolutely loved you. Keep making people laugh, Amber. At least until you are old and gray. Laugh at yourself and others will always laugh with you. Even mean old defeated women like me.”
Joan of Old coughs again.
“Two. I’ve got some bucks left over—and I’m leaving my entire estate to The Amber Appleton Community Service College Fund, which is what your friends have established without your knowing it. My son Teddy hasn’t come to visit me in eleven years, so screw him! Bye-bye, Amber. See you in hell.”
Joan of Old smiles the last grin of a dying woman—which is huge and beautiful—and then she says, “I finally got you, didn’t I?”