He swallowed. “Look, I’m glad the ban’s getting reversed.” He spoke in a low voice that was no less powerful for being quiet. “But you and I promised we’d run campaign decisions by each other, remember? It was one of our three rules. That way we’re on the same page and no one gets left behind. I could’ve helped.”
I couldn’t stop looking at the tight way he held his jaw. It was like he was forcing himself to look at me, like the very act cost him. But Logan never had trouble dealing with work problems. He was always cut and dry. Then it hit me: he wasn’t disappointed in me like a colleague, the way Nora was. He was hurt the way a person was when someone they trusted betrayed them. I remembered what he’d told me about Tinsley, how they hadn’t been on the same page, and how much it had hurt him when she’d left him behind.
I’d hurt Logan personally, not professionally. I knew it should make me feel terrible, but as I searched his face, this man who was holding my eyes even though his were telegraphing feelings he clearly wanted to keep hidden, I felt a sense of wonder. Logan cared about me.
“I think we’re probably done here,” Nora sighed. “Alexis knows to keep us in the loop in the future. Right, Alexis?”
I turned to her. For the first time, my normal urge to do anything to smooth over a thorny situation was gone. In its place, I felt a tiny flame of rebellion. “Once again,” I said carefully. “I’m sorry for not double-checking with you and letting the governor steal a win...” I took a deep breath. “But I’m not sorry I did it. It was the right thing to do.”
As Nora sighed and Anita cackled, “So much for our nice librarian,” I straightened my spine. “I appreciate your time,” I added, because that seemed polite. As I turned to leave, I chanced one last look at Logan—and found, to my surprise, that while his dark eyes were still fixed on the floor, he wore the tiniest hint of a smile.
20
Escalation
There was one word for the audience of Barton Springs teacherswho sat around me in the teachers’ lounge, watching me with shining faces, lobbing questions about the book ban and Logan’s budget expansion so fast I could barely keep up, and that word wasentourage. It was a dreaded Monday, and yet the atmosphere inside the lounge was buzzing. It was standing room only, and new people kept squeezing in like they were inching past velvet ropes into a club. The book ban rally seemed to have turned me into the educators’ version of Harry Styles overnight.
“Did you hear your book ban reversal is one of the fastest reversals on record?” asked Jon Reeves, a third grade language arts teacher. “That’s going to make other districts think twice.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, trying to warm to the attention. “But honestly, all credit goes to Gabby Bui and the Austin Queer—”
“Do you really think Logan can get the legislators to give us more money?” interrupted Principal Zimmerman’s assistant, Megan Kwan. She leaned over Jon, tapping her long, vivid pink nails against the table.
“If he gets elected, it’s going to be one of his top priorities. He had a team of economists do projections to figure out how to increase the budget.” Spouting research, at least, I felt safe. “Did you know Texas gives tax cuts to athletic teams and businesses to get them to relocate here? If you make those tax cuts even alittleless generous, you’re already looking at a surplus—” On the table in front of me, my phone started buzzing. “Uh.” I frowned. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Conversation continued while I turned to my phone. It looked like I was getting tagged dozens of times on Twitter and Instagram. With a sinking feeling, I opened Twitter. The tags were on a news clip. In the still image, Logan stood in front of Trisha Smith from CBS 12. That alone made me nervous. I clicked Play.
“Now Mr. Arthur,” Trisha said, in that assertive voice I’d always admired. “Coming off this morning’s town hall on the importance of free speech—kudos on the record number of attendees, by the way—”
Logan, who’d been leaning in and nodding as she spoke, gave her a quick, “Thank you.”
“I have to ask: How did it feel when Governor Mane recently swept in to get the ban onSex Is Not a Dirty Wordreversed? That was obviously a free speech issue spearheaded by your girlfriend. Do you worry the governor’s action makes you look weak by comparison? All bark, no bite?”
Ouch.
Logan’s face remained untroubled. “Thanks for the question, Trisha, and for being so consistently charming.” Surprisingly, he turned and looked directly into the camera. “I applaud Governor Mane for taking swift and decisive action to support educators and students in Collinsburg. I’m not worried about what voters will think for two reasons. One, I’ve always made my campaign about action instead of hot air, and I believe voters can see the difference between doing the work consistently and jumping in to take advantage of a splashy media moment. The second reason is, as you mentioned, I have Alexis Stone by my side.”
My heart somersaulted in my chest.
“Alexis is an educator herself—so, unlike Governor Mane, the issue isn’t one-and-done for my campaign. In fact—” He grinned into the camera. “I’m happy to announce Alexis will be back out at the capitol this weekend, marching with the teachers union for increased salaries.”
Excuse me—I was doingwhat?
Trisha, who clearly didn’t like how Logan was hogging the camera, not-so-subtly shouldered him out of the way. “Wow, there you have it, folks. Breaking news here at CBS 12. Teachers, it sounds like you have a new champion in Alexis Stone. We’ll see you at the capitol.”
The clip ended, and my jaw dropped. Logan had just volunteered me to lead a march in a few days’ timeon television. A march people were now rabidly discussing on Twitter. “Oh, no,” I murmured. “Oh, no, no, no.” I leaped out of my chair and ducked into the empty hallway. I couldn’t scroll through my contacts fast enough, jabbing Call and tapping my foot as the phone rang.
Logan’s voice was the smuggest I’d ever heard it. “If it isn’t the teachers’ champion. I’ve been expecting you.”
Thenerve. “Where are you?”
“My house—”
“Stay there.” I hung up. Logan and the campaign wanted more direct communication? I would show them direct communication.
I pounded on the door of Logan’s annoyingly adorable bungalow. He better not have left. He better not make me wait—
The door swung open, and Logan stood in front of me in joggers and a T-shirt, eating a sandwich with a serene smile. “Alexis!” His voice was cheery. “Come on in.”
