one just appeared. I look around. Nobody else seems to have one. Simone doesn't have one. Kellen doesn't have one. The tenth-grade girl in front of us has her phone open in her lap and is taking a quiz called Which Piece of Fruit Are You Emotionally.
I open the pamphlet. I mean, you would. I'm fourteen, I'm bored, and somebody has clearly gone to the trouble of leaving something where I can find it.
The first page is mostly what you would expect. Election procedures. Meeting frequency. Officer duties, each described in the same flat voice adults use when they're writing things they don't expect anyone to read. But on page three there is a section called ARTICLE IV, and Article IV is where I start to frown a little, because Article IV is about something called the Council Discretionary Fund, and Article IV says that the Council Discretionary Fund consists of twelve thousand dollars annually, and that its expenditure is at the sole discretion of the elected Council, subject only to audit.
Twelve thousand dollars.
I read that sentence three times. I read the sole discretion part four. Then I flip to Article V, which is about amendments to the student handbook, and Article V says that amendments may be proposed by any Council member, voted upon by simple majority, and that ratified amendments shall be binding upon the institution.
Shall be binding upon the institution.
I lean over. I don't think about it first. I just lean. "Simone," I say, and my voice is low, "did you know the student council has twelve thousand dollars?"
"What?"
"And they can change the handbook."
"What?"
"Without anyone's permission."
Simone looks at me like I've told her I can speak to birds. "That's not real," she says. "You're making that up."
I put the pamphlet in her lap. I watch her
🤖 The author declared this story as written with the help of AI.