I shifted my weight and felt the cool metal of my silver class ring press against my thumb.

“Does the superintendent’s office need an answer today, sir?”

“You have until Friday to send your written confirmation,” he said, sliding a folded parchment form across the desk.

“Take the afternoon to look over the schedule.”

I picked up the document and held it by the corner.

“I’ll let you know by five o’clock.”

At half past eleven, I walked into the event administration office by the stadium entrance.

Brenda Kowalski sat behind a laminate desk buried under clipboards, yellow legal pads, and six-dollar paper coffee cups from the hotel down the road.