Read Red is for Remembrance for Free Online

says, standing up from his desk. He drops the Magic 8 Ball he's holding and extends his hand for a shake. "I'm Dr. Wallace. It's nice to finally meet you."
    "Sorry about earlier," I say, noticing how big his office is.
    "Not to worry," he says, still shaking my hand. "You're here now; that's what's important."
    I nod, trying my best to smile.
    "I've heard a lot about you, Stacey Brown."
    "You have?"
    "Please, sit down," he says, ignoring the question. He finally pulls his hand away and gestures to the buttery leather chairs in front of his desk.
    "So," I whisper, practically scrunching down in the seat. The man is openly staring at me--
    almost as if he's trying to size me up, not in a skeevy way but in a "I want to know what she's about" kind of way.
    "Yes," he says, snapping to attention. He leans forward in his chair. "How are you enjoying the campus? Did you get all the classes you wanted?"
    I nod, wondering what I'm doing here, why he cares about my schedule. "Do you meet with all the scholarship students?"
    Instead of responding, he continues to stare at me, turning my insides to nervous mush.
    45
    "I won't miss any more classes," I say, out of nervousness. "My mother really wants me to do this-- to be here, I mean."
    "You want that too, I hope."
     
    I look toward his Magic 8 Ball, wondering what it says, if there's any prophetic message about my dismal future here. "I guess," I say, finally.
    "Not so sure?"
    I shrug and look away, feeling suddenly like I'm back in Dr. Atwood's office, being asked to dump all my emotional baggage.
    "Well, I know that I want you here," Wallace offers. "That's why you got the scholarship."
    "Excuse me?" I ask, looking back at him.
    He peels open the folder on his desk and begins reading off a list: "Stacey Brown, Hillcrest Prep grad; overall GPA by the end of her senior year at Hillcrest . . . barely a 2.0. No extra-curriculars to speak of; no hardship case; no declared major; and lukewarm recommendations from her teachers."
    Huh?
    "But," he continues, "despite all that, this same Stacey Brown gets into Beacon University, one of the most competitive universities on the East Coast, along with her good friend Amber, also an underachiever. She gets a full scholarship-- both room and board with zero required work-study-- and all she has to do is maintain a minimum grade point average of 2.7 or better. Come on," he says, pushing back in his chair, the wheels squeaking slightly, "even my 46
    full-ride football players have to maintain GPAs higher than that."
    "What are you trying to say?" I ask. "Has there been some mistake?"
    "Mistake-- no. But it does sound a little unfair, now, doesn't it?"
    "I didn't ask for any scholarship," I say, hearing the agitation in my voice.
    "Don't get me wrong," he says. "I meant it when I said that I want you here. I think you're quite extraordinary; that's why you got the scholarship." He closes up my folder and leans forward again to stare at me. "But do I need to remind you that your scholarship is one that needs to be renewed every year . . . pending presidential approval?"
    It's then that it hits me-- he obviously wants something from me. He's obviously heard about my involvement in the events that occurred at Hillcrest these past couple years.
    "It would be a shame to lose such a scholarship-- such an opportunity-- over something small,"
    he says. "Wouldn't you agree?"
    "Small?"
    "You believe in helping others, don't you, Stacey?"
     
    I feel my body stiffen in the seat.
    Wallace wheels his chair around and points to the wall behind him, where he's got a bunch of framed diplomas hanging-- from places like Columbia and Stanford. But then I notice another one-- a diploma from Hillcrest, very much like the one I have.
    "So you're a Hillcrest grad as well" I say.
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    He nods. "I've been a devoted and supportive alumnus since graduation, nearly thirty years ago now. Since then, I've kept a hand dipped into the goings-on there, volunteering on various