Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(38)

“Oh, fuck no,” Tiffany says under her breath.

She turns to me, and I feel the color draining from my face as I process this. Not wanting to speak to people in a safe environment at a networking event was one thing, but stopping busy people on the street to ask them for donations? There’s literally no way I can do something like this. No way.

Art raises their hand, and once they’re called on they say, “I’ve been trying to ask what we’re doing for the whole week now, and everyone’s been dodging the question, and I think I’m starting to see why.” They roll their eyes. “That’s just some feedback for the future—I’m feeling like I was tricked into signing up for something I don’t think I would have signed up for.”

“I understand that,” Ali says, her tone chipper, “but I want to make sure you know we never meant to mislead you. But we do these trainings in this order for a reason. We prepare you with all the information you need, and we’ll be passing out a booklet with responses you can practice, tricks to flag someone down who looks like they may not want to talk, and things like that. It’s a totally normal, stress-free experience, but we always find it’s best to ease our volunteers into the process, you know?”

“So you did mean to mislead us,” Tiffany says, a little too loud to be a whisper.

“I think we’ll all feel a lot better once we get those booklets passed out,” Ali says after clapping three times, signaling that this conversation is over.

The next two hours are grueling. My anxiety is spiked so much that I kind of hate myself for being so positive on my therapy call yesterday. My therapist will definitely be getting an earful next week, but by then, I’ll already have gone through all this.

The packet is full of information, but it reads like a how-to guide about violating people’s personal space. I’m talking about … ways to stop someone and trick them into conversations in a way that they can’t escape. I now know eight ways to respond to someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.

If they say they’re too busy, explain that it’ll only take a second and launch into the full pitch, hoping they’ll stick around.

If they say they don’t have their wallet on them, explain how we just need a signature and a pledge and launch into a full pitch, hoping they’ll stick around.

If they just say no, appeal to their soft side and remind them that climate change is going to kill us all one day. Then launch into the full pitch and hope they stick around.

“That was a lot, I know, but we do have one last thing before we let you out early on this beautiful summer day. I’ll need a few volunteers to start working on our summer outdoor gala in a month or so. We work with a lot of high-profile donors, and we need someone dependable who works well with a team if we’re going to pull this off. So do your best, and you might be able to take on a new project later this summer—one that will look great on college applications, I might add.”

We break for the rest of the day, and without really even deciding to do it, Tiffany, Art, Matt, and I all walk together to the local coffee shop to decompress.

“Well, this sucks.” Tiffany buries her face in her hands. “I hate those people who canvass on the street for donations. They’re so annoying, and they won’t stop. I never thought I’d have to do that.”

“I don’t really know what they are,” I admit, “but it sounds awful.”

Art clears their throat, and we all give them our attention.

“Look,” they say, “it’s not great. I think it’s a known fact that everyone hates those kinds of people. But I think I’ve talked to enough of them to know what works and what doesn’t.”

“You talk to them?” Tiffany asks, which causes Matt to laugh.

“I do, and they’re usually normal people, like us, who get treated like shit but need a paycheck. A lot of them really want to help their cause, and some of them just like talking to people, you know the type?”

“Like Allen,” Matt says, referring to the guy who cornered him at the first event.

“Exactly,” Art says. “That kid will thrive, but I think we can too.”

“Should we run through some scenarios?” Matt asks, and Tiffany and I groan in response.

“I still haven’t processed all this,” I say. “I don’t know how to do this, and I feel a little sick. I don’t think practice will help.”

Matt looks to the pastry case. “What if I get each of us a giant cookie?”

“Our tab’s already way too high after all those iced coffees,” Tiffany replies.

“This one’s on me,” he says, and walks up to the counter.

? ? ?

On the walk back to my dorm, I send a text to Sal: SHIT shit shit shit. You will not believe what I have to do for Save the Trees. Can I call tonight?

I wait for a response, though I know it always takes him ages to get back to me now. He’s been working ten-hour days, which seems illegal to make an intern do, but he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t talk about it to us. Actually, he doesn’t talk to us at all anymore.

He writes back: Busy tonight, sorry. Doing my own shitty stuff for the senator.

I put the phone away. I’m not sure what I expected from him, but I guess I really am on my own here. I’ll try to call Heath tonight, since Reese is equally unreachable. And maybe we can commiserate over how our friends are suddenly too busy for us.