“What I would ask you all to do is to get to know Mr. Orange and his staff. He wants to work with you to make this acceptable to you all. I think this is an opportunity for us as a community to do something good,” I concluded.
Ms. Downton talked to her people and came back up front.
“We would like there to be a privacy fence put up.”
“We can do that,” Mr. Orange said.
The measure passed 3–2. Mr. Orange had better not mess this up.
◊◊◊
Chapter 12 – Dip My Toe into the Political Pond Friday February 19
“Hola, Lily,” I said as I plopped down in the seat next to her.
“Hola, jefe, es un placer verte.” (Hey, boss, it is a pleasure to see you.)
“¿Por qué … uhm … tan formal?” (Why … uhm … so formal?)
“Hoy tenemos un examen,” Lily answered. (We have a quiz today.)
“¡Hijo de puta!”
Lily giggled. She’d been teaching me to cuss in Spanish.
“David!” Ms. Cruz reprimanded.
“Uh … Lo siento,” I said, embarrassed I was caught. (Sorry)
With Lily’s help, I was picking up Spanish quickly. Rosy, the James’ cook, had taught me a little while I was in LA. But between having to speak it in class and Lily tutoring me, my skill with the language was rapidly improving. I attribute a lot of it to my acting and having to learn lines. A lot of what I spouted off was simply memorized. I could still say most of the Japanese lines from my sunglasses commercial, and I had no idea what I was saying for that. Lily made me think about it and understand what the words meant. I would get frustrated because I tended to throw in a lot of ‘uhms’ as I thought about what to say.
◊◊◊
At lunch, one of the theater girls and Halle approached me.
“They say you agreed to be the lead in the play if I would do it as well,” Halle said as she fixed me with a stare.
“Hang on. I never said I’d do the lead; I only said I’d help,” I complained.
“They’ve decided to do Our Town and want you to read for the part of George Gibbs. I’ll try out for part of Emily Web, your love interest,” Halle said.
The theater girl thrust a script into my hands.
“Tryouts are Monday after school,” she said and then scampered away.
“Why do I feel like we just got roped into doing more than we planned?” I asked Halle.
“It’ll be fun.”
Halle put her hand on my arm; I just shook my head. If she wanted to do it, I’d go along. I’d already said I would help, so I’d keep my word.
◊◊◊
Brook and I were let off school early so we could drive to Northern Illinois University for the campaign rally for Governor Higgins and Senator Dixon. I took her home with me so we could drive my new car. Mom was home, and she had an envelope for me. It contained my SAT scores. I opened it up and read it, then shook my head and frowned.
“What did you get?” Brook asked.
“I got a 720. Crap, I thought the best I could get was 2400 when I added the essay section. I didn’t even get half. I might have to go to State or even junior college,” I complained.
With the new NCAA guidelines, I might be in trouble because of this score. I would have to really knuckle down and study and then retake it.
“Let me see,” Mom said and took it from me.
She read it and gave me a disgusted look. Way to pile on, Mom!
“‘Stupid boy,’ that’s your Critical Reading score. You received a 695 in Math and 715 for your Writing section. Your total score is 2130 out of 2400. I guess the reading section score was wrong,” Mom said.
Brook had her phone out doing searches to see how good that was. She made a face.
“Ooo, you would barely qualify for Harvard. Their minimum is 2100,” she shared and then checked out some other information. “It says if you’re above 1900, you’re in the 90th percentile. Looks like you did okay.”
Relieved, I let out my breath. I could stop worrying about my score now. Mom said she’d send it to Kendal so she could forward it to whoever wanted to see it for football recruiting.
◊◊◊
Peggy had agreed to swap cars with me for the weekend. She admitted that the Jeep was easier to park than the Ford SUV. We then made the trek to Brook’s house to pick up Ian and Ava, Brook’s parents.
Ian came out of the house, pulling two roller bags and a garment bag. Brook had to go in and get hers. I jumped out to help him load his and Ava’s luggage.
“What kind of car is this?”
“It’s a Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor SUV. I wanted something large enough to carry a big group.”
“I’ve never heard of it before,” Ian said.
“They’ve only been in production a few years, and Hennessey has only built a little over 400 of them. I was lucky that Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan found a used one, or I wouldn’t have bought it. They retail just north of a hundred and sixty thousand when new.”
Brook and Ava came out with a cooler filled with drinks and snacks, along with Brook’s roller and garment bags. Even with all the luggage, there was plenty of room in the storage area in the back. This vehicle was big. My Jeep would have never worked.
“What did you get?” I asked Brook.
“I’m not telling.”
I just raised my eyebrows. Her parents gave her a look, but I kept my mouth shut. I had to remember her parents were around all weekend, and I’d be pissed if she outed me about my scores to my parents.
Ian was my designated copilot as we found our way to the highway. The Ford had a built-in navigation system, but Ian said he knew where we were going. He was excited about helping with the campaign. Ian explained that he was working on a few local campaigns with his college classes, so he hadn’t had time to get involved in anything bigger.
“You did a good job at the zoning meeting. Your grandmother told me that was your first political event, so to speak. She and I agreed you swayed the vote in favor of the homeless shelter,” Ian said.
“I didn’t really feel prepared for it, though. I could’ve done better,” I said.
“What do you think you missed?”
I thought about it for a moment.
“Two things come to mind. I should have prepared talking points to make sure I covered everything that needed to be said. I also didn’t take the time to go around the room and meet everyone. If I had, I might have gotten a better idea of what the key issues were for the local homeowners,” I admitted.
“Why, so you could counter their arguments?”
“No, no, so I could also make sure their needs were met. The only way for something like the homeless shelter to work is if the people living around it are happy. Mr. Orange and the Homeless Coalition’s worst outcome would have been to win and to piss off all the neighbors. In the end, they could make it very difficult for him if they were upset. I think he still has a long way to go to prove that he and his organization can be good neighbors,” I said.
Ian shook his head.
“I sometimes forget that good government isn’t about winning. In the last ten years, everything has really become polarized. No matter what the issue, it’s about winning, and not what’s right for the people who are being governed. I find most of it is raising funds for the next election. Don’t ever lose your point of view, it’s refreshing,” Ian said.
I guess I was a little naïve. My grandfather had never wanted to move up in office because he felt there would be too many people telling him what to do. From what I’d been told, he was a genuine power broker and seemed to get a lot done for the people he represented.