It’s a random Wednesday about a month after the homecoming dance when Neil slaps an envelope down on the kitchen table. Mia and I are eating lunch and are confused. I’m more confused when the envelope has my name on it.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Stipend,” Neil says. He’s very blasé and continues to ruffle through the pile of mail in this hand.
“Stipend…?” I draw the word out so he knows I’m confused. Instead of elaborating, he just kind of waves his hand nonchalantly.
“For being in the Court,” he says.
I feel my eyebrows go up. “I get money for that? I thought it was just some formality.”
Neil finally turns to look at me. He sets down the mail in his hand, holding only one envelope to his chest. He sighs.
“For you, maybe,” Neil says. “But for others it’s the highest of recognition. If
