“Oh. Yes. Yes, Iam.”
“Y’all are doing a great job of getting the wordout.”
I let out a weak, “Weare?”
He nodded. “Kids you had out here a few minutes ago presented a very compelling argument. Early childhood investments make a difference to us taxpayers later in life. Important at the local level. That other guy’s platform just doesn’t make fiscal sense. I’m excited to see how shedoes.”
“Oh.” I was going to have to work on my political repartee, but at this point, I had no idea what was going on. I considered pinching myself in case this was a dream, but the panic attack I was about to have pretty much negated the dreamtheory.
“Did they leave you with any pamphlets oranything?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Why, you allout?”
“No.” My voice sounded thready and weak. “No, I just don’t think I have the most up-to-date campaignmaterials.”
“Here.” He patted his pockets and finally came out with a folded-up flyer, printed in my colors—gold and purple. Everything about it, though, was way higher quality than anything I’d been able to afford, from the design to the paper it was printedon.
And the campaign message was mine, onlybetter.
Veronica Cruz—Investing in Our Community’sFuture.
There was a photo of me taken from a school event a couple of years ago. I was shaking hands with a parent and a kid was hugging my leg. It was a preschool graduation ceremony, so I was dressed up, which was why this man probably didn’t recognizeme.
Below that was a list of bullet points, followed by one of those financial chart thingies showing return oninvestment.
My heart was beating faster with an inkling of a hint by the time I turned it over and saw the quote on the otherside.
“I believe in giving a voice to people who are under-represented.”
My fingers tightened on the paper and I made a stranglednoise.
I’d said those words just a couple days before. To Zach Hubler. The man I’d made it a point over these past forty or so hours not to thinkabout.
“Thank you, sir.” I said, thrusting the flyer into the man’s hand. I started to turn and then remembered what this was and who I was, and thrust out my hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with us. I look forward to seeing you at thepolls.”
“Likewise.”
Half a block down, I saw a group of what looked like teenagers, carrying Cruzparaphernalia.
“Hey!” I called out as I hefted my own, sad-looking stuff and ran after them. A girl finally turned around. “You guys volunteering for the Cruz campaign?” I asked, out ofbreath.
She lifted her chin with what looked like defiance. “Yeah.”
I couldn’t exactly yell at them, could I, for helping further my cause? But I needed to know. “That’s… Wow, that’s great. Thank you guys so much for doingthis.”
Her eyes narrowed, then lowered to the thick stack of flyers in her hand, before widening and moving back up to land on me again. “You’re her. Veronica Cruz.” She turned to the group. “You guys, check it out. This is CouncilwomanCruz!”
“I’mnot—”
One of the boys practically tripped over himself to get to me. “Cool! Thank you!” He grabbed my hand and shook it, hard. “We’re gonna turn this townpurple!”
“Your message is so inspiring,” a young woman chimed in. “Partisan politics have ruined the economy and peoples’ lives. Thankyou.”
“I…” Holy crap, what the hell was going on? “Thankyou.” I was sputtering now. “For, uh, coming out here today and spreading theword.”
“People keep telling us we’re the future. But then they vote forassho— I mean jerks who’re willing to throw it all away for a few bucks. This…” The girl, full of youth and passion, shook one of my glossy, redesigned new signs. “Thisis a future we can get behind. Start at the grassroots and work our wayup.”
Something filled my throat, the tight pressure of a hard sob, but there was so much mixed up emotion, I couldn’t begin to parse it. There was shock, some excitement, definite disbelief, and then, floating on the tail end like a snake’s tongue of poison, wasguilt.
