After a moment of silence, Head Councilwoman Banks nodded to Adelaide. “Ms. Levy, the floor is yours.”
Adelaide rose, one hand over her abdomen while the other clutched her notes, and approached the wooden podium in the center of the room. After a moment, she began.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for allowing me to speak to you today regarding a topic that is very close to my heart. I am going to start by sharing some background on the universal free meal program currently offered to the public-school students here in Wexstone, after which I will be joined by some individuals who have benefitted from this program and would like to share their experiences with you.”
Adelaide continued speaking, giving a comprehensive history of the program, including data on how many students had participated. She cited studies on the benefits of universal free lunch programs, emphasizing the improvements in student performance in school, improved test scores, and reduction in suspensions among certain students. She spoke calmly and with authority, tying every fact she shared back to the ways in which it would benefit Wexstone as a whole. She innately knew how to speak the Council’s language, no doubt thanks to her experience dealing with school administrators throughout her career.
I couldn’t help but think that if she had never pursued teaching, she would have made a brilliant attorney.
Soon, Adelaide introduced the rest of the speakers.
“I can share facts and figures with you all day, but ultimately, this is a program that benefits the families in our communities, so it seems only right that you should hear directly from some of these individuals today.”
Adelaide returned to her seat, making room for Dash and Ms. Hayakawa at the podium. They each spoke brieflyon their financial situation after they moved to Wexstone, particularly while Ms. Hayakawa was pursuing her nursing degree, and how many times the program had kept a young Tadashi from going to bed hungry.
Next, Sienna’s parents shared about the number of times they had been forced to choose between paying utility bills or buying new shoes for their four children. Knowing that their kids would get two balanced meals at school each day and healthy lunches throughout holiday breaks freed up funds for them to pay for other necessities.
Finally, the director at one of the local community centers and food banks emphasized how much further their budget was able to stretch and how many more members of the community they had been able to serve since the implementation of the free meal program. She followed this up with data projections on the impact that ending universal free school lunch would have on their center, including internal programs they would have to end to support the influx of food bank clients they would receive.
When they were finished, Adelaide gave me a barely perceptible nod.
That was my cue. I stood, the attention in the room pivoting my way.
“Thank you all for giving us your time and sharing your stories with us today,” I began. “Esteemed Council members,” I continued, taking a moment to look at each of them in turn, “my staff and I have reviewed all the numbers that Ms. Levy provided, as well as the testimonies of the community members present today. The crown approves the continuation of the free meal program and is willing to donate additional funds for program expansion.” I sat back down, inhaling deeply.
Head Councilwoman Banks nodded. “Thank you, YourMajesty. Your approval will be taken into account. Ms. Levy, do you have any final remarks you would like to share?”
Adelaide rose, wobbling slightly as she did. My eyes narrowed. Perhaps she had simply stood too quickly. I had seen her eat breakfast that morning, though it was not as much as she usually had.
She returned to the podium, her fingers clenching the sides. She cleared her throat before speaking.
“Thank you to King Oliver and the royal family for supporting this cause that is not just near and dear to my heart but critical to our local communities.”
A bead of sweat ran down her temple.What is going on?The room was comfortably warm, but not so hot as to make her sweat like she was.
Adelaide continued, her voice shaking. “And thank you, Council members, for hearing us today. We ask that you consider?—”
Time froze, the next several moments passing in slow motion. One second, Adelaide was speaking and the next, she had collapsed onto the ground beside the podium.
“Adelaide!” Birdie screamed, leaping from her seat.
Knox’s voice boomed, “Call emergency services. Now!”
Somewhere in the distance, I heard the head councilwoman call, “Everyone, please remain in your seats! Is there a physician here?”
Without knowing how I had gotten from my seat to Adelaide, I found myself lifting her body into my arms.
“Your Majesty, please lay her on the ground so that I can assess her,” a woman I didn’t recognize said from beside me. Faxon placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, letting me know that whoever this woman was, she was safe.
“I’m Dr. Haas,” the woman continued, lowering herself to her knees beside me. “I’m a pediatrician; my husband ison the Council. May I check her vitals?” Her voice was calm and soothing.
I nodded my assent, trying to speak. I felt as though I was floating outside of my body, watching the scene from above.
My voice cracked as I was finally able to form words. “She’s burning up. Why is she so hot?” I breathed heavily, as though I had just run a marathon. Somewhere in the haze, I was vaguely aware of security working to clear the room.
Dr. Haas checked Adelaide’s pulse. “Your Majesty, does Ms. Levy have any medical conditions?”
I shook my head no before remembering otherwise. “Wait, yes. She has polycystic ovarian syndrome.”
