She gave me an appraising look. “I know you’re an introvert, but so are a lot of people in the public eye. I think you have something. I think you could be exactly like your sister. A leader with a bright future.”
I could be like Lee.Therewas a desire I finally recognized, because it was my oldest one. Just hearing Nora say it out loud brought an embarrassing prickling heat to my eyes. I hastily wiped the moisture away.
Her voice grew softer. “I could help, you know. Taking on campaign challenges is what I live for. We could do it together.”
I’d never been this close. All I had to do was reach out and take what Nora was offering, and I could be a person my father would’ve been proud of. A go-getter, a front-runner, no more second fiddle. All I had to do was say yes, and I could have Lee’s life.
I didn’t want it.
It hit me with sudden clarity: I didn’t want to be a leader, or live a public life, or be in the spotlight. Hell, I was tired of orchestrating shenanigans, and I couldn’t sail through life with the cool, confident nonchalance that always made Lee so enviable. Right or wrong, it wasn’t my way. I didn’t fit into her mold.
And that was okay.
It was more than okay. Dear God, I’d overlaid Lee’s desires, and what I thought my father valued, and what I figured the world wanted from me on top of my own wishes for so long that it had become nearly impossible to know howIreally felt. WhatIwanted. No wonder all I got was white noise when I thought about it. My own hopes and preferences had been buried under other people’s for so long.
Standing in front of Nora in the middle of the empty cubicles, I experimented with lifting their expectations off my shoulders, ignoring the voices that saidLee thisorYou should reallyorPeople will be disappointed. Without the voices, there was nothing left but me. Was it really meant to be this easy? Was I really supposed to think about what would make me happy, and simply listen to the answer?
“I’ve loved this experience,” I said to Nora, feeling it out. “It’s helped me grow, and it’s been amazing to feel like I’m fighting for something. But the truth is...politics isn’t where my heart belongs. I love stories. I always have. And strangely, all this pretending has made me realize that I want to do more of it. Storytelling, I mean.” I thought back to that night at the Fleur de Lis when Logan listened to me embody Ruby Dangerfield, that day in his living room when he asked me if I’d ever thought about writing. He was always so good at seeing me. Maybe better than I’d been at seeing myself. “I think I want to try to write a book.”
I could tell what I was saying was right because it felt like settling into myself. No more fitting into uncomfortable molds.
Nora, who’d been listening stoically, finally smiled. “A writer. I can see that.” A new wave of popping sounds came from the conference room and she shook her head. “They’re on to round two. You better get out of here before they charge out, lift you on their shoulders, and carry you around the room. I’ve seen it happen.”
I blanched and moved to leave.
“Wait—Alexis...”
I stilled.
“My family still doesn’t understand my career. They think I’m nuts for living and breathing politics. But it’s what makes me happy. So I better see you do what makes you happy, and fuck what anyone else says. Otherwise, you’re back in my doghouse.”
I smiled at her. “Nora, you know I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.”
37
The Bomb Drops
“And that’s why I’m requesting a promotion to full librarian,” I said,plowing to the end of my speech. I glanced up to meet Principal Zimmerman’s eyes and gulped. “I know the future of the budget is precarious, but I hope you’ll still consider this based on the strength of my record.”
Zimmerman sat on the other side of his massive desk, which he kept neat as a pin and in a very particular arrangement, a fact his assistant, Megan, liked to complain about. He was an older man, with wiry salt-and-pepper hair and a thick Sam Elliott–style mustache. The mustache twitched as he smiled. “I would say—”
A quick burst of knocking sounded before the door swung open, and Megan ducked her head in. “Alexis, I’m getting calls for you up front. Journalists.”
“Megan.” Principal Zimmerman’s voice was exasperated. “What did we agree about barging in?”
“I know, I know. Privacy is a virtue.” She started to close the door, then added, rapid-fire, “But I think you might want to check the news!”
When the door shut, Zimmerman looked at me expectantly. “Do you need to go?”
I shook my head and sat taller. “I’m sure it’s just reporters wanting to follow up on the walkout. Whatever it is can wait. I do want to add, though, that if you’re worried about how to pay for my promotion, I have an idea. In addition to becoming a full librarian, I’d like to work four days a week so I can use Fridays for a personal writing project. That way, you don’t have to pay me as much.”
There. I hadn’t held anything back. I’d put everything I wanted on the table. No matter what happened, at least I’d been true to myself.
To my surprise, Principal Zimmerman laughed. “It’s fitting you offered me a solution to an anticipated problem. Problem-solving seems to be among your strengths.” He leaned forward, folding his arms on his desk. “Alexis, you’re an asset to this school. Not only do you have a strong rapport with your students, but lately you’ve proven yourself as a leader.” He shook his silvery head. “The truth is, I should’ve given you a promotion a long time ago. I appreciate your patience.”
Was I hearing right? I resisted the urge to rub my ears.
“And you can have Fridays off without the reduced pay. As for the matter of funding, I’m sure I’ll find a way. These last few years of budget cuts have at least taught me how to stretch pennies. Let’s just cross our fingers Mr. Arthur wins the election, shall we?”
