The Wrong Side of Right

by Jenn Marie Thorne

  I blinked blearily. “What are you—?”

  “You’re . . .”

  He stopped abruptly, his jaw tightening. Then his hand rose up to graze my hair and stuck there, and one step more and he was close enough to kiss me.

  And just as I realized that—he was kissing me.

  Not accidentally. Very, very deliberately.

  It stopped me utterly, rooted me where I stood. His lips were soft but insistent, warm and opening, and after a moment of shock, I was just another stalk of wheat, lit by the sun, gently swaying, until my arms remembered themselves and rose up to twine around his neck. And then, there I was, breathing in his salty sweet scent, feeling the warmth of his neck, his hair soft under my fingers, his hands exploring my back, and— He broke away, smiling. Not that half smile, that patented Andy Lawrence smirk, but a real smile, a look of almost glee in his eyes.

  “I’m gonna fix this,” he called as he jogged away, and I was too dazed to ask what exactly he meant.

  Up in my room, my giddiness faded as I picked up the phone to try Penny again. Again, it went straight to voicemail. I told the machine that I was sorry, that I’d never meant for this to happen, that I would do whatever it took to fix it, thinking as I hung up that I had no idea whether this could be fixed, or whether I would only succeed in destroying the life of the one person I cared most about in the world.

  I’m gonna fix this, Andy had said. If only we could.

  29

  I should have taken the senator aside that night.

  But when he came to grab me for dinner, the twins were right behind him and I didn’t want to get them upset, and then he told me we were headed to a dinner that the campaign was providing for the whole town. And once we were there, standing in the town square with all of these people so grateful for the food, the chance to talk to the senator and take a break from their grief, it felt like the wrong moment. This was their time. Their crisis. Mine would have to wait.

  I told myself I’d talk to him as soon as we’d returned to the motel, but Meg took me and the twins back before the senator, and although I stayed up as long as I could, staring at the dirty ceiling, hoping to hear his voice coming up the motel stairs, sleep took me and kept me until morning.

  And then Meg was rushing us out, downstairs, into the waiting car, where the senator was locked in conversation with Elliott. I had to sit on my hands to keep from tearing at Elliott with my nails, pulling his smug face away from my father’s ear. As usual, he didn’t deign to look at me. It was lucky for both of us. If he had, I might have launched myself at him.

  I told myself I’d talk to the senator during our flight, but Elliott stayed by his side the whole time. I could feel the clocks ticking, my sleeping cell phone smoldering in my bag, the flames growing with every second I didn’t extinguish them.

  Just tell him, my mind screamed.

  Once we’re home, it answered.

  Thank God, Elliott left us at the airport. But as we reached the Coopers’ house and deposited our bags in the foyer, the senator changed his shirt and shoes and turned around to leave for headquarters.

  Before he could get out the door, I stood in front of it, blocking the way. And then my mouth clamped shut.

  He laughed uneasily. “Something on your mind?”

  I swallowed hard. Now or never.

  “The Diazes are being deported.”

  I watched and hated myself for watching his reaction, trying to see whether shock registered.

  It did. The color left his face, but when he looked up again, to my dismay, he simply sighed.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Afraid of that?” I stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t—I don’t understand. Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “Stop—?” He shook his head. “Stop who?”

  “Elliott.” I said it quickly, before I lost the nerve. “He’s the one who did it.”

  “Kate.” The senator frowned. “I don’t know what you’re thinking here, but Elliott had nothing to do with this.”

  “I know you trust him, but—”

  “But what?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

  And what could I say? I had no evidence. Just a hunch.

  He looked at his watch. “Kate, I need to—”

  “It doesn’t matter who caused it. We have to fix it!”

  “How?”

  “Call someone. Get a pardon. I don’t know, how do you fix these things? You’re a senator, can’t you—?”

  “No, Kate, I can’t,” he said sharply. “And if I could, do you really think that would be a good idea in an election year? Think!”

  I shrunk back, and at my reaction, he reached out a hand, then let it drop.

  “If it got out that I helped illegal immigrants get immunity, I’d be done. I’d have broken a promise I made to millions of voters.”

  “And what about the promise you made to the Diazes? What about them?”

  He stared right back at me, unflinching. “I kept that promise. I never named them. That’s all I can do.”

  He started away, but I grabbed his hand. He peered down at it as if I were a bug that had landed on him. Swallowing back my tears, I forced my fingers to hold on.

  “Please,” I said. “Dad. Please.”

  The word was out there. He looked me in the eye.

  “I’m asking you to help me.”

  He smiled, sadly, but I knew the man better now. I knew what was real and what was faked for effect. His cheeks didn’t crinkle the way they did with a real smile. His eyes were blank, like a wall had come down behind them.

  This was the mask. My heart sank.

  “And I’m telling you I can’t.”

  My hand went numb. Let go.

  And then he was gone.

  “Kate?” Meg’s voice was a raw whisper. She’d been watching from the hall. Her eyes were glistening.

  I couldn’t face her, couldn’t bear to look at any other human being right now, so I ran straight to my room, collapsing into tears, the house tumbling around me, the door slamming shut and the covers rising up around my head to drown out the screaming horror of all I’d done and failed pathetically to do.

  • • •

  My phone woke me up. Penny’s name flashed. I scrambled to answer.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  But Penny was yelling over me. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was saying.

  “You did it—you’re amazing! They’re going to become citizens, they won’t have to hide anymore. I can’t believe this is happening!”

  She was crying, but laughing too. There were voices in the background. Music. They were celebrating.

  I sat up in bed wondering whether I was dreaming this call.

  “The last three days have been a nightmare, not knowing what was going to happen, but Brad told us—”

  “Wait, slow down.” I shook the cobwebs out of my head.

  Penny laughed. “Sorry! I’m freaking out.”

  “What happened?” My feet hit the bedroom floor. “And who is Brad?”

  “He’s from the State Department.” She paused, confused. “I thought your dad spoke to him. He said he was under orders to help us. He’s super-nice, and he found us a lawyer and got them green cards, and oh my God, I’m freaking! Out!”

  I heard cars pulling into the front drive, the front door careening open and agitated voices filling the hallways. Staffers. They’d breached Meg’s safe zone. Something was happening.

  This. This is what’s happening, I realized, staring at my phone.

  The senator had changed his mind. After he’d left me yesterday, he must have had a crisis of conscience. He’d helped them after all. This was happening!

  I danced into fresh clothes and hurried downstairs with a dizzy mix of joy and worry—for the consequences, the damage to the senator’s campaign. But more than anything, I was lit up with gratitude.

  When I spotted my father among staffers in the TV room, I nearly leap
ed over the sofa to hug him. But his expression stopped me cold.

  He looked like someone had died.

  On TV, the president was speaking.

  “I’ve found myself in a unique position in the last few days—that of undoing a grievous and heartbreaking wrong. On August second, Senator Mark Cooper and his family shared a meal with the Diaz family, friends of his daughter Kate. There, he learned that Carlos and Inez Diaz, the parents of three American children, had entered the country illegally twenty-five years before. You may recall his comments in the last debate about his encounter with them.” The president paused. “I myself was moved by his remarks, I must admit. Which is why I was shocked and horrified when I learned that at the same time Senator Cooper was speaking so warmly of the Diazes, the Cooper campaign was taking steps to have the family deported, the children ripped out of their home, and the parents thrown into jail.”

  Meg crumpled, clutching the arm of the sofa. I froze in place, legs tingling empty, about to give way as the world disintegrated and re-formed around me.

  The senator hadn’t helped the Diazes.

  It was never the senator at all.

  “When my son, Andrew, came to me with these allegations, I authorized the State Department to investigate, and if true, to undo the actions of Immigration and Customs Enforcement in this case. I’m happy to report that the Diazes have been reunited with their children, and that today they are taking steps toward becoming full and legal citizens of this nation. I do not argue that illegal immigration is not a serious issue plaguing this country. But to see a politician play with lives like they were mere pawns in a political chess match shakes me to my core. The Diazes did not deserve this. America did not deserve this. I call on Senator Cooper to respond to these allegations, and I call on Congress to investigate the clear breach of ethics by my opponent’s campaign. Thank you.”

  He left the room, reporters screaming, his press secretary taking his place at the podium to answer their questions.

  “Lies!” Meg’s voice was raw with horror. “How can he just stand there and lie like that?”

  “He believes it.”

  A voice behind me made my legs tense, ready for flight. I turned to see Elliott staring lazily over my shoulder at the senator, his fingers grazing his chin.

  “You heard the man. His son, Andrew, came to him with these allegations. Now, I wonder. Who could have put such a crazy idea into Andy Lawrence’s head?”

  When his eyes landed on me, everyone else’s did too. Just as I was trying to get my tongue to move, I heard a clip-clop-clip and gasped. Nancy’s bright fingernails were digging into my arm.

  She was smiling. It was terrifying.

  “You and I need to have a talk.”

  Meg rose, but before she could speak, Nancy had already dragged me into the senator’s study and shut the door.

  She laid her tablet on the mahogany desk and stepped away like it was about to explode.

  “Tell me.” She pressed her lacquered fingertips to her mouth and spoke through them. “Just tell me what this is.”

  I stared down at the glowing screen with little recognition. It was just some blog, with some celebrity photo, two people who weren’t supposed to be dating caught out together. Three shots, posted one on top of the other, a couple out at dusk, holding hands, embracing—and finally a closer shot in which our faces were plainly visible.

  Andy. Me. Kissing.

  Someone had been there, then, in Kansas. Snapping pictures. In one of the parked cars, maybe.

  The screen grew crisp and the room blurry. I could hardly feel my body, hear the voices outside the room, anything but the sound of my own shallow breathing. This was what I’d been afraid of for so long. And now that it had happened, I felt . . . nothing.

  What was it Dina Thomas had said, back on the campaign trail? The truth always comes out in time.

  “What is this website?” I asked. My voice was feeble. “I’ve never heard of it. Maybe we can have these taken down.”

  Nancy looked at me with disgust. “Every major website has picked this up. I’m surprised it hasn’t hit cable news yet. If it weren’t for that press conference, it would be the top story.”

  “Oh.” Another breath scraped through me.

  “Oh,” she repeated, mocking.

  She stared at me so long that I had to look up, had to meet her eyes just to get her to stop, and when I did I wished I hadn’t. She was smiling that gentle smile of hers, but there was something sharp and glittering behind it. Something vicious. It had always been there, hadn’t it? How had I not seen it right away?

  “How long has this been going on?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing is going on. He kissed me because he felt sorry for me. We’re friends, that’s it.”

  “Were you ‘friends’ before you met Senator Cooper?”

  “What?” What was she accusing me of? My blood started to rush back into my body, my nerves firing with each pulse. “No, I . . . no.”

  “Did you tell him about the Diazes? That your father’s campaign was responsible for having them deported?”

  She had her arms crossed like a TV district attorney. I’m sure she meant to look intimidating, but it had the opposite effect. Who was she to put me on trial? And what exactly was I being accused of? Telling the truth? Helping my friend?

  “Yes,” I snapped. “Andy was the only one who would listen to me. And thank God I told him, or else nobody would have helped them!”

  Nancy’s eyes fell and I heard the creak of the study door behind me. The senator stood in the doorway, Meg behind him, both of their faces deadened with shock.

  “It’s hit the news, then?” Nancy asked briskly. “I’ll get the team here, carve out an hour this afternoon to regroup.”

  The senator spoke so softly I could hardly hear him. “That won’t be necessary, Nancy.”

  Nancy stood very straight and very still. No one moved. I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  And then, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded. “You’ll have my resignation by this afternoon.”

  She strode out past them, shoving her tablet back into her bag.

  “What . . . ?” I held on to the desk. “Why is she resigning?”

  Neither of them answered.

  “Because of me?”

  The senator blinked wearily past me out the study window. I turned to look at what had caught his attention. It was a sparrow, sitting on a tree branch. When it flew away, he turned and left the room.

  By the time my head stopped spinning all I could see was Meg staring at me.

  “Go to your room,” she whispered, and I ran.

  In the empty foyer, Nancy was blocking the way up, perched on the steps, rifling through her giant bag for her car keys with shaking hands. Her stiletto was slipping off her foot. She looked so lost all of a sudden. So unlike herself.

  Nancy Oneida was her job. Without it, what would she become?

  “You don’t have to resign over this,” I said.

  “Yes, I do,” she hissed, scrambling up and straightening her skirt. “It was a condition of our agreement.”

  I shook my head. “What was?”

  “You.” She let out a tinkling laugh. “A sixteen-year-old bumpkin from the barrio. What was I thinking?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I went to bat for you, Kate.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye, her face growing serious. “I thought I saw myself in you, if you can believe it, someone who deserved a chance. But I didn’t realize how immature you’d turn out to be. How selfish. I’ll never make that mistake again.” She sniffed, then let out another hysterical giggle. “Not that I’ll ever get the chance again.”

  The word selfish hit me like a low punch, but it was something else she’d said that was still pulsing cold through my veins. “Went to bat? What are you—?”

  Something in her green eyes told me I should never have asked. But it was too late.

  “I was the one
who told him to acknowledge you,” she said, so sweetly it stung. “He and Elliott disagreed with me. Mark wanted to put our efforts into denying it, hushing it all up until after the election. He couldn’t see the angle in it. I made a case. I said I’d stake my career on it.”

  She leaned in to whisper.

  “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

  I felt her breath on my neck even after she stepped away.

  It can’t be true. She’s lying. She’s leaving the campaign, bitter, taking it out on the easiest target. Senator Cooper wants me here—because I’m his daughter. Because I belong to this family, not because some aide talked him into it.

  Not because there was a closed-door conversation in my uncle’s living room for the better part of two hours . . .

  “No,” I heard myself say.

  “I thought you were a star, but I was wrong.” She smiled and started away. “You’re nothing.”

  “I don’t want to be a star.” My voice came out as less than a whisper. It was the voice of a ghost. The voice of nothing. “I don’t want any of this.”

  She watched with grim satisfaction as I groped for the banister and let it guide me downward, as tears streamed hot down my cheeks and I gasped for air like I was drowning. Then she turned, flicked her mussed hair straight, and left the Coopers’ house for the last time.

  Nancy Oneida was a skilled communicator. She’d gotten exactly the reaction she wanted out of me.

  30

  When the light outside was dimming, Meg came to my room, sat on the edge of the bed, and said, “Explain this to me.”

  I’d spent all day deciding how I would explain, what I would be willing to apologize for, what I had to defend. I’d gone over it again and again as I sat peeking from my window to see the campaign staffers’ cars trickling out the gate one by one, hearing Gabe outside my bedroom door ask if he could check on me, hearing Meg say a quiet no, watching James pull the car around to the front drive, blinking out blankly as the senator got in with Elliott Webb and drove away.