Chapter 17 - Nina’s Confession
In August, two weeks before high school orientation, Nina asked Jacob to sit down.
“That sounds bad.”
“It isn’t.”
“That’s what adults say before bad things.”
She handed him an envelope.
Inside was the final settlement check.
Jacob stared at the amount.
“That’s more than I thought.”
“It covers several categories.”
“Are we buying a car?”
“No.”
“A smaller car?”
“No.”
He smiled.
Then Nina became serious.
“I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
“When your grades started dropping last fall, I thought you were distracted.”
“You told me.”
“I thought maybe you were spending too much time playing games.”
“You told me that too.”
“I know.”
She took a breath.
“I emailed Ms. Collins.”
Jacob went still.
“When?”
“September.”
“What did you say?”
“That I wanted to help you improve and would follow her recommendations.”
His stomach tightened.
“Did she tell you about Summit?”
“Yes.”
He stared.
“You never told me.”
“I thought it was too expensive.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want you to worry about money.”
Jacob leaned back.
Ms. Collins had known.
His mother trusted her.
His family could not easily afford tutoring.
That placed him in a category.
Maybe a challenge.
Maybe a potential customer.
“What else did you say?”
Nina looked ashamed.
“That I was working extra night shifts.”
Jacob closed his eyes.
Ms. Collins knew that too.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because I gave her information she could use.”
“You thought she was my teacher.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to trust her.”
“I know.”
He heard the same thing he had told Ava.
Adults could blame themselves too.
Nina continued.
“I also need to admit that when she first recommended tutoring, I wondered whether I was failing you because I couldn’t afford it.”
Jacob looked at her.
“You never said that.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Parents hide things.”
“Apparently everyone in this family does that.”
She laughed through tears.
Jacob moved beside her.
“What are you going to do with the settlement?” he asked.
“Some goes into savings.”
“Boring.”
“Some into your college fund.”
“More boring.”
“And some is yours to choose.”
“How much?”
She told him.
His eyes widened.
“Can I buy a computer?”
“Yes.”
“For writing?”
“For whatever.”
He thought.
“I want a good one.”
“I assumed.”
“And maybe donate some to the literary magazine.”
Nina stared.
“What?”
“Victor donated money.”
“So now accountants are your role models?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Jacob smiled.
“I just… the school magazine published my essay.”
After months of hesitation, he had finally allowed it.
The issue came out in May.
Students had recognized the story.
Some told him they liked it.
One sixth-grader emailed him:
I had a teacher make fun of my reading last year. Your essay made me tell my mom.
That message mattered more than second place.
Nina nodded.
“How much do you want to donate?”
Jacob named an amount.
She agreed.
Then he said, “The rest goes to the computer.”
“Absolutely not all of it.”
Negotiations began.
They lasted forty minutes.
Jacob won more than Nina expected.
Less than he wanted.
A fair outcome.
That evening, the doorbell rang.
A package sat outside.
No return name.
Inside was a book.
The Outsiders.
Jacob stared.
Nina immediately became suspicious.
“Is there a note?”
“Yes.”
He unfolded it.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Jacob,
I read your published essay. I was in Ms. Collins’s class five years ago. She threw one of my poems away and told me I should focus on subjects I was better at. I believed her.
Last month I started writing poetry again.
Keep your work.
—Marcus Reed, Brookfield Class of 2021
Jacob sat very still.
Nina read over his shoulder.
Neither spoke.
Finally Jacob opened the book.
On the inside cover Marcus had written one more sentence.
Criticism can improve work. Contempt only teaches silence.
Jacob closed the book carefully.
Then he placed it beside his blue certificate folder.
Not evidence.
Not part of the case.
Something better.
May you like
Proof that the story had traveled somewhere useful.
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