“Lex, did you want talk about our education plans?” There was a momentary pause in the man’s monologue, and Logan was leaping in.
“Oh,” I said, caught off guard. He’d never called me Lex before. It was surely only part of the act, but a traitorous bolt of pleasure shot through my heart. “No, you go ahead.”
Logan gave me a questioning look, but launched in dutifully.
It was time to break the loop. Logan had been clear our relationship was professional and he wouldn’t catch feelings. So starting now, I was going to stop putting stock in ridiculous daydreams and call a spade a spade. Manage my emotions. Stop giving away my heart.
Logan squeezed my hand and gave me a small, knowing smile as the man in the ball cap started talking about how he actuallydidagree with us that teachers needed more support—his wife was a kindergarten teacher, it turned out. I smiled back, encouraging but perfunctory, the perfect politician’s smile. Nothing more and nothing less.
15
Greetings, My People
One too-short week later, I stood on stage and gripped the edge ofthe podium, squinting past the blinding lights at the crowd. The unnaturally fast pumping of my blood made sweat gather at my temples. I was actually here, at the Texas Library Council’s annual conference, otherwise known as librarian mecca, on the verge of fainting. I tried to remember the tips Logan had recited as he’d steered me backstage:First, most people are prats, so the bar for your speech is low. Second, most people are prats, so if they don’t like you, that’s why. Third, most people are prats, so for the love of God, don’t picture them naked.
Okay.Deep breath. Last year I’d simply been a member of the audience, cocooned in anonymous bliss. This year I was keynoting to over two hundred people. No big deal. Maybe I did have to breathe into a paper bag if large enough crowds of schoolchildren showed up to hear me read at story hour, but no matter. I could do this.
“Good morning,” I said into the microphone, voice crisp and clear.
Heads turned as audience members looked at each other in confusion. Oh, no, it was 6:00 p.m., wasn’t it? Right out of the gate, I’d ruined my speech. Desperately, I searched until I found Logan in the front row. None of the librarians close to him were paying any attention to me, all of them fixated on him, whispering and elbowing each other, so at least there was that. When our eyes met, he gave me a thumbs-up and mouthed,Prats.
Sharp heels clacked near the back of the auditorium. I searched for the source and found Lee scurrying into one of the chairs in the back row. She waved excitedly.
Lee was here.Pride coursed through me, replacing the anxiety and freeing me to think.
“To a brand-new day in education policy,” I improvised, hoping the audience would follow. “Good morning to the dawn of a new administration that doesn’t just pay lip service to the importance of school employees, but actually puts their money where their mouth is.”
The murmuring stopped. The two-hundred-plus people in the audience were suddenly looking at me with rapt attention. Someone in the back even let out a wolf whistle, though on second thought that was obviously Lee.
“My name is Alexis Stone, and I’m here to talk to you about what’s at stake in the upcoming governor’s race. More specifically, I’m here to tell you what Logan Arthur will do for school employees if he’s elected. He’s not offering you empty platitudes like other politicians. We wanted you to be the first to hear that Logan is officially committed to ending the school budget cuts.”
The crowd burst into excited applause. Logan clapped with them, eyes shining.He’s looking at you like a supportive colleague, I reminded myself,and you are looking back at him respectfully. I squared my shoulders. “Not only that, but he’s committed toincreasingfunding for education. He wants to make sure you get the financial support you deserve.”
This time several people whistled. “And how do you know Logan’s going to do right by educators? Because he’s got me on his team, and I—like all of you—am proud to be a school librarian. Let me tell you exactly what we’ll do if we win.”
Here’s the funny thing about public speaking: surely I kept talking after that, and I had a vague sense the crowd kept applauding, but for the life of me, when I looked back, I couldn’t remember. All I knew was that somehow, I arrived at the part where I saidthank you for having meand the entire audience rose to their feet, clapping.
Which meant I’d actually done it. And it had gone okay.
“Alexis Stone for governor!” yelled Lee. Up in the front row, Logan whooped his agreement.
The conference organizers wrestled a mic into place below the stage and a queue formed for Q and A. In the back, Lee took this as her cue to scramble out of her row, waving goodbye. I wrestled back disappointment. I’m sure she had important business to get back to. At least she’d shown up for my speech. I faced the growing line at the mic and forced myself to focus. I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
The first person in line was an extremely short woman with glasses. “Thank you for your remarks, Ms. Stone. My question is, could this extra funding be applied to moving my school’s library out of the gymnasium?”
I blinked at her. “I’m sorry—your library is located in the gym?”
She nodded, pushing up her glasses. “My principal moved it there after last year’s budget cuts. We had to lease out the old library building to a Jimmy John’s for textbook money. The reason I ask is, the students keep mistaking me for a ninth grader, and I’m tired of getting pelted by dodgeballs.”
And I’d thought the situation at Barton Springs was dire. “Um, yes, definitely the extra funding can go toward getting you out of the gym and back into the Jimmy John’s.”
The woman thanked me and returned to her seat, revealing the next questioner, a woman in a long cardigan with a headful of wiry curls. She grabbed the mic and spoke so close into it the reverb echoed through the auditorium. “I have had a rat making a mockery of my library for the last sixty-five days. He has taken over the graphic novel section and has started stealing my lunches. No matter where I hide them, he finds them. I’ve laid out maybe twenty-five, thirty traps, but no dice.”
“Wow—” I started to say, but she wasn’t done.
“He has now moved on to eating the books themselves. We’re in a full-blown war, and I regret to say there have been some casualties among the student body. If I had to guess, I would say Chernobog—that’s what I named him—takes up seventy-five, maybe ninety percent of my time on a day-to-day basis. Will your budget expansion help me defeat him?” She finally blinked, waiting for my response with grave anticipation.
I had so many questions. But also, an instinct not to ask them. “Sure,” I said finally. “You can use the extra funding to address pest infestations.”
