“What are we supposed to do?” I asked.
“You’ll sit behind the panel in case a question gets directed to you,” Grandma Dawson said.
“So, this is going to be boring,” I said.
Brook hit me in the back of the head. I was sure Paul was with me on the sentiment, though. Everyone else seemed to be excited about going to a Town Hall meeting.
◊◊◊
Once we settled into our drive, Brook jabbed my side to get my attention. She had her tablet out and showed me a sailboat. They offered a one-week cruise that would start in Puerto Rico and end in Aruba. They were equipped to fill dive tanks.
The more I read about the yacht, the more excited I got. It was a luxury catamaran that would comfortably accommodate up to eight guests while covering up to 300 nautical miles per day under sail. It was sixty-nine feet long, but the website said the yacht was still compact enough to fit into most harbors. And its shallow draft allowed it to slip into quiet coves and anchorages that would be off-limits for keelboats of her size.
It had four guest cabins, each with a queen-size bed and private bathroom. That would be perfect for our parents, Brook and I. It came with two crew members who sailed the yacht and cooked gourmet meals. I flipped through the photos, and it looked like a floating five-star hotel. It even had air conditioning so you could get a good night’s sleep.
It said they would customize your cruise to your specific needs. If you wanted to act like a tourist and enjoy what the different islands had to offer, they could do that. For the group who wanted to just relax, they would find beautiful secluded coves. They also had options for the more adventurous.
“What does this cost?” I asked Brook.
She told me, and I calculated it as a per-person price. For that much money, I could buy a yacht.
“Seriously? Eighty-eight thousand in total?” I asked.
“No, it’s eleven thousand total for the week. That includes everything. Of course, it can be more if you do some add-ons.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“If you’re a foodie and want high-end wine, for example.”
“Don’t tell my dad, he’d want some expensive scotch.”
“I think our dads will get along,” Brook said.
“What do we have to do to book it?” I asked.
She blushed.
“I already did,” she said and then asked a question before I could object. “Who are you bringing with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your room is big enough to have someone sleep with you.”
“I thought …” I started and then realized the parental units would be with us. So much for that plan.
“I was thinking about inviting Cassidy.”
I ran through the list of guys I knew, but I didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with any of them for a week. Maybe I could convince my parents to allow me to ask Beth. The only problem with that was I wanted to spend time with Brook. It would be a little awkward if Beth were there. This was one of those times where Tami said my first instinct was always wrong. I would be better off going alone.
“Let me think about it.”
“I need to know by Monday so I can order plane tickets.”
“For now, just figure I’ll go solo. If I change my mind, I’ll take care of the tickets later.”
“Call your mom,” Brook ordered.
I knew Ava, Brook’s mom, had been listening to us.
“Ava, you want to call her?” I asked, and she had the grace to act confused about what I was asking.
“Mom will call her,” Brook said.
Ava got her phone out and dialed. I smiled to myself when she didn’t ask who she was supposed to call. She definitely needed to work on her acting skills.
◊◊◊
When we arrived at the University of Illinois at Chicago’s campus, we made the trek to their basketball arena, the UIC Pavilion. They had a stage set up with panel-type seating. There was VIP guest seating on a riser behind the panel. My grandma and I were assigned seats in that area. They set it up so the TV cameras could see the supporters.
Brook and her family were assigned seats on the floor close to the front. I felt a little bad they didn’t rate VIP seats. Bill Carl, the banker and minority owner of the Cubs, brought his wife Elinor over to say hi. It turned out my grandma was good friends with them. They chatted with my grandma while I spaced out.
It was finally time for the event to begin. The governor was on the stage, as were representatives from the FBI, DHS, and State Police, as well as Bev Mass, the State’s Attorney for Cook County. The topic was how the state would deal with terrorists. I rolled my eyes when a university professor got up and talked at length about how we should just all love one another, and the terrorists would leave us alone. While I wasn’t for drone strikes in the suburbs, even I knew that a group hug wasn’t going to stop the violence.
The FBI and DHS representatives talked at length about how they were working to keep us safe. Then it was the State Police’s turn. Bev Mass spoke for both the Chicago Police Department and her office. I hadn’t realized the resources they’d committed to this type of problem.
Then they opened it up to questions. A woman in a hijab came to one of the microphones. They had four set up around the arena, and there was a line at each.
“Peace to you all. I’m a law student at Northwestern University, and I’m here to ask you a simple question. It seems we portray Islam and all Muslims as bad, but there are 1.5 billion Muslim followers of Islam, most of whom are not radical. We have over eight million Muslim-Americans, and I don’t see them represented here on this panel. But my question is, how can we fight an ideological war with the weapons and methods outlined here today? How can we end this war? The Jihadist ideology that you talk about is just that, an ideology. How can you ever win this thing if you don’t address it ideologically?” she asked.
I watched as Brook got up and waved for attention. She stepped up to one of the mics. The people on the panel clearly weren’t comfortable. I was sure they were afraid of looking insensitive and possibly saying something politically incorrect. They happily deferred to Brook.
“Excuse me, let me take this. Great question. I’m so glad you’re here, and I’m happy you brought that up because it gives us an opportunity to answer. What I find so amazing is that since the beginning of this discussion, not one person has even mentioned Muslims, let alone suggest that we are for or against Islam. We’re here to talk about how a young woman died here in Chicago, and to discuss the shootings in California and how to make our people safe.
“We’re not here to bash Muslims. You were the only one who brought up the issue about most Muslims, not us. And since you brought it up, allow me to elaborate on the answer. There are 1.5 billion Muslims in the world today. Of course, not all of them are radicals; the majority of them are peaceful people. The radical Muslims are estimated to be between fifteen and twenty-five percent of the total world Muslim population, according to all the intelligence services around the world. That leaves seventy-five percent who are peaceful people.
“But when you talk about fifteen to twenty-five percent of the worldwide Muslim population, you’re talking about 225 to 375 million people. That’s as big as the population of the United States. And all dedicated to the destruction of Western civilization.
“So why should we worry about the radicals? Because it’s the radicals who kill. Because it’s radicals who strangle a young woman who just wanted to meet and have her picture taken with my friend David. It’s the radicals who kill innocents.
“When you go back through history and the lessons we should learn, you find most Germans were peaceful. Yet during World War II, the Nazis drove the agenda, and as a result, 60 million people died. Almost 14 million died in concentration camps, and six million of them were Jews. The peaceful majority of Germans were irrelevant. They did nothing to stop it.