I pause. “Want me to read you some of the good ones out loud? Just so you can hear the nice stuff, without having to risk stumbling on any trolls?”
“Oh. Actually, yeah!” Maya nods. “I would love that.”
“Okay! Let’s see.” I scroll down. “Lots of heart emojis, a few people saying yassssss . . . all right, here’s one! Someone named Jacq with a q says: this is such a cute, smart idea, I love it!”
“Aww, thanks, Jacq with a q.” Maya smiles.
“And someone named Granibella and a bunch of numbers says: Rossum is awesome and so are Maya and Jamie! And she put the hashtag! FifiGetsFlipped.” I keep scrolling. “Okay, and Nancy Shapiro says . . . ohhhh. Wow.”
Maya leans in. “What?”
“She says: So proud of my grandson Jordan Isaac Rossum, vote for Rossum!!! Love, Grandma.”
“That’s his grandma?” Maya presses her heart. “That is so insanely cute.”
“What can I say? Jewish grandmas are the best.” I scroll further. “Okay, here’s a good one: lmao Jamie’s side-eye is a MOOD.”
“No kidding.”
“And let’s see. A bunch of people say they’re voting for Rossum. And then someone named Anna with, like, fifty n’s says: LOL Jamie’s face when Maya mentioned cats.”
Maya laughs. “Told you! That face was my favorite part of the whole video.” She leans back, gazing contentedly at the chair’s domed wicker roof. “Oh my God—did you see all the cat versus dog merch at Fawkes and Horntail? They had bag clips, they had socks . . .”
I nod distractedly, my eyes drifting back down to the comments section.
“Jamie, the washi tape” LOLOL
Find someone who looks at you the way Jamie looks at Maya at the 00:56 mark
My cheeks flood with heat. You know what would be awesome right now? A trapdoor. To another dimension. Wow, Jamie. Good thing you’re so subtle about liking Maya. It’s not like total strangers can read it all over your face.
And the comment itself. No joke: if Maya read that, I’d die. I might actually die.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maya
Jamie was wrong. Helping Grandma out with photo shoots isn’t annoying. It’s the absolute best.
We finished up a quick session with her and Boomer at a newly renovated park, and now we’re working our way through all the shops in Town Brookhaven to drop off our H.B. 28 flyers. People light up when they see her. Everyone she asks gives us an enthusiastic yes.
Carmen’s Cupcakes is no exception.
“Hello, dear, my name is Ruth Mill—” Grandma begins when she approaches the woman behind the register.
“I know who you are!” The woman hurries over to us. “You’re InstaGramm!”
She’s staring at Jamie’s grandmother like Meryl Streep herself swept in. Then she glances over at me and Jamie. Her eyes widen.
“Is that Jamie and Maya?”
I glance at Jamie. He looks as surprised as I do.
“I saw your video,” she says. “The one about fixing the Fifi bumper stickers? I haven’t gotten trolled, thank God, but I sent it to two of my friends who were hit. They loved you guys so much. Fifi gets flipped!” She pumps her fists.
“Fifi gets flipped,” I manage to say. “I’m glad it was helpful.”
It’s really weird to be recognized. Is this what it’s like for Jamie’s grandma on a daily basis? Just like all the other shop owners, Carmen doesn’t blink before agreeing to let us put out our flyers. She even promises to stick one on the front door, so everyone can see it when they come in.
“I was going to reach out to you,” Carmen tells Jamie’s grandma. “Scavino’s resistance efforts really inspired me. I’m planning to hand out free coffee to anyone who comes in on election day with an ‘I voted’ sticker.”
“That’s wonderful!” Grandma exclaims. “Would you mind if I shared that information with my little online community? They’d be really appreciative.”
Judging by Carmen’s response, you’d think Grandma invited her to party on the moon. Carmen is a definite yes to the shout-out.
Grandma quickly switches into work mode. After taking approximately thirty minutes to decide which cupcake will complement the color scheme of the shop (strawberry cream), she’s scoping out the store to find the perfect spot to set up the shot.
Okay, so maybe Jamie’s right. She can be a bit extra.
I glance at the clock. We promised Hannah we’d come a little early for the canvassing session to drop off water bottles. I hope we won’t be late.
“Maya dear, would you be interested in posing with me for this photo?” Jamie’s grandmother asks. “I was thinking you could be on one side with a cupcake, and Jamie can be on my other side with a coffee cup.”
“I’d love to!” I say.
Jamie and I stand on either side of Grandma.
“Cheese!” Carmen shouts out, and takes several photos.
Jamie’s phone starts ringing mid-shoot. As soon as we’re done, he pulls it out.
“Mom,” he groans. “Be right back.”
“By the way,” I tell Grandma as she walks over to the table and picks up her purse, “thank you so much for following me. I nearly passed out when I saw the request on Instagram. I was going through a rough time, and it made me feel so much better.”
“Hmm?” Grandma glances up at this and studies me for a second. She smiles. “You’re an absolute sweetheart—you know that, right? And you’ve been so good to my Jamie. For Jamie. He’s always been an easygoing kid, but he can really fall inside his head sometimes. Ever since you have been spending all this time together, he’s just—”
“I’m back!” Jamie hurries over to us. “What’d I miss?”
“Your grandmother was just telling me how awesome I am, and how lucky you are that I’m your friend.”
“That’s right.” Grandma laughs and pinches Jamie’s cheek. He’s crimson. It’s so fun to make Jamie blush. It’s almost a full-time hobby at this point.
“Almost a million and a half views on the Nicholas Wilson Fifi video,” I tell them. We’re in the car and on our way to the campaign headquarters.
“There were just over a million last night,” Grandma says. “It’s really catching on.”
“Thanks to yours truly!” Jamie says.
“I’m glad it’s started a conversation about trolling, but I’m not condoning this.” Grandma shoots him a look. “You shouldn’t use my account or post things without first informing me.”
“But he did deserve it,” I add from the backseat.
“Well, yes, that he did.” Jamie’s grandma smiles.
My phone blinks. A text from Shelby.
Just saw the video with you! You’re so amazing!
I feel a jolt of surprise—even though I shouldn’t. The video’s up now, so of course people from school might have seen it.
Maya: Thanks so much!
Shelby: A few of us are going to the mall on Thursday. Let me know if you want to come too. It’s been forever!
Maya: Oh, yeah. I’ll check and get back to you!
She sends me kiss emojis, and I send her smiling ones back, and then I click over and scroll to our video. It has nowhere near a million hits, but seventy-five thousand views aren’t bad. About five thousand percent more engagement than anything I’ve ever posted.
I click the hashtag, #FifiGetsFlipped.
“You won’t believe this!” I exclaim. “Someone’s made a CafePress shop with the Fifi hashtag! They have T-shirts, and mugs, and they even designed a sticker with Fifi wearing a rainbow hat and holding up a Rossum sign! All proceeds support the campaign.”
“You see?” His grandma glances back at me and smiles. “Didn’t I say a video was the best way to go about these things?”
“Yes. Grandma. You were right,” Jamie replies.
“‘Grandma, you were right’ is quite possibly the best sentence in the English language,” she says.
We pull into the canvassing offi
ce. There are even more cars than yesterday in the parking lot—we end up having to park by the acupuncturist next door. Stepping into the bookshop, we realize there are way more people too. Yesterday, the campaign had to move into the actual bookstore space; today they’re practically filling it.
“Seventy people.” I count again, just to be sure.
“Hey, you two!” A woman in athleisure wear and a ponytail walks over to us. “Your video was the cutest,” she says. “And what he did to that poor sweet dog.” She shakes her head. “I shared it with all the parents in the Ashford Park PTA—we figured if teenagers can wake up early in the summer to canvass, we can too.”
After she leaves, Jamie leans in and whispers, “That’s one more for Team Dog!”
“She just didn’t want the dog to be racist! There’s a difference!”
Before we can continue our debate, Gabe hurries over to us, coffee splashing out of his mug.
“Hey, guys! Check out this crowd.”
“That’s really great, Gabe,” I say.
“You guys are two for two with viral Fifi videos.” His eyes sparkle. “Nicholas Wilson is the gift that keeps on giving!”
Jamie and I glance at each other and sigh. Gabe.
“By the way, I need to ask you guys for a favor,” says Gabe.
“What kind of favor?”
“Just a quick talk to the crowd. Nothing big.”
“No way,” Jamie says firmly. “Not ever.”
“Great! You’ll do awesome!” Gabe says. Before we can say anything more, he’s hopped over to the front of the room and grabbed a microphone.
He starts off with the patented canvassing talk, thanking everyone for coming and explaining the packets.
“What does he want us to talk to them about?” Jamie whispers. He’s flushed.
“Let’s just leave,” I whisper. “He can’t ask us up if we’re not here.”
But before we can move, Gabe is pointing to us.
“Today, I’m passing the mic to Maya and Jamie—our canvassing experts—to share with you some of the dos and don’ts of knocking on doors.”
I glance at Jamie. His color has shifted from red to green. I’m ninety percent convinced he’s going to puke right now.
“Come on over, kids,” Gabe says to us. “These two are our rockstar canvassers! They’ll share their experiences, especially for any first-timers, as you prepare to hit the road.”
“I am going to strangle Gabe,” I mutter to Jamie.
But then I glance at the faces looking over at us. The college students fanning themselves with flyers. The moms with strollers. The senior citizens in velour jogging suits. Three women in hijab in the front row. I think of the man with the blue swordfish T-shirt I met on my second day canvassing. The way I froze up. The way I couldn’t move.
“We got this,” I tell Jamie. “We can do this.”
I grab his hand, and together we walk up to the front of the room.
Everyone claps as I take the microphone. The crowd looks way larger standing from this angle. Gabe is in the back taking photos of us with his phone. I clear my throat and glance at Jamie. Judging from his expression, I’m definitely going to have to be the one who speaks first.
“Thank you so much for coming,” I tell the crowd, trying my best not to let my nerves show. “As Gabe, um, just mentioned, we’ve done a bit of canvassing, and there are definitely some things I wish we’d known.”
One of the women in hijab smiles at me and nods. I smile back at her. And then I begin to share.
Do knock on the door and give it a few beats before knocking again.
Don’t knock more than twice; stick a flyer in and move on.
Do stick a flyer in the door or through the handle.
Don’t put it in the mailbox. There’s some sort of law against that.
“And hydrate,” I tell everyone. “It’s hot out there. And be careful of eating greasy or oily foods that can make you sluggish in the heat.” I glance at Jamie and wink. “Like donuts.”
Jamie straightens a bit at this.
“But Goldfish,” I reassure the crowd, “are completely acceptable.”
Jamie’s looking less green. He’s smiling.
“I have one.” He edges closer to me. I hand him the mic.
“If you get tired while you’re going, just stop,” he tells people. “You’ve been assigned quite a few houses, and no one reasonable expects you to be able to hit them all.”
“And if someone makes you uncomfortable—leave,” I tell them. “You do not have to give them a flyer or any of your time. Trust your gut and go.”
We offer a few more tips. Some people have questions. About footwear and knocking versus ringing doorbells. I’m stunned to realize we can comfortably answer all of them.
When we’re finished, everyone claps.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Jamie says, once Hannah takes the stand to explain how to work the app. “Once you went after donuts, I realized I had to start talking.”
“And did you see them clapping for us? I don’t think anyone’s ever clapped after Gabe spoke.”
“Rolling their eyes, definitely, but not clapping. Never.”
“I’m still going to strangle Gabe, though,” I say.
“Oh, totally.” He nods.
My phone buzzes. Glancing down, I blink. I have over one hundred notifications. Ever since our video about fixing the Fifi stickers got posted, I’ve been inundated with follow requests from people I don’t even know.
“Terrific talk.” A man approaches us. “You laid it out all so easily. And great to see you both in person. Fifi gets flipped!” He pumps his fists.
“Fifi gets flipped.” We smile. It was one thing to say it in a room with just us and Jamie’s grandma, but people listened. They cared. They showed up.
“I didn’t know until your video that anyone was canvassing for this election,” he continues. “Not a single person has come by my neighborhood.”
“Where do you live?” Jamie asks.
“Hampton Hall. We’ve got hundreds of homes. Most of us are Democrats, but this election is more about letting people know it’s happening in the first place.”
“Let’s see if it’s on the canvassing list.” I turn to Jamie. “If it isn’t, we could just pop over. I mean, every vote counts.”
“Hey, y’all!” Hannah interrupts us. “Can I speak with you both for a second?”
We excuse ourselves and turn to Hannah.
“The water bottles!” Jamie exclaims. “They’re in the trunk. I totally forgot.”
“No, it’s not that.” Hannah shakes her head. “Well, first thing, you guys were amazing up there. Old pros!”
“Thanks.” Jamie is blushing again. But in the best possible way.
“And as old pros”—Hannah crosses her arms—“you know you have to stick to the canvassing road map, right? You can’t go rogue like I just heard you both talking about.”
“Rogue? It’s knocking on doors,” I reply. “His neighborhood has hundreds of homes, and they haven’t been canvassed.”
“I’m sure they’re on our list.”
“Can we check really quick?” I ask. “If they’re not on there, we can just swing by.”
“If the homes are not in the packets, we don’t canvass them,” says Hannah. “We have a system in place for a reason.”
“If we just do a few neighborhoods on our own time, what’s the harm?” Jamie asks.
“No,” Hannah says firmly. “I’m sorry, but if you’re going to be Rossum volunteers, you have to play by the Rossum rules.”
The enthusiasm from moments earlier vanishes.
“I’m sorry,” she says gently. “You both really are rockstars—but we don’t want to risk affecting anything negatively by accident.”
I watch Hannah walk over to another canvasser.
“That makes no sense,” murmurs Jamie. “What’s the harm in knocking on a few extra doors?”
“Apparently it’s again
st the rules to let Democrats know an election’s coming up.”
I grab our packet and walk out the side door. Kevin. Now Hannah. They’re on our side—supposedly—but they have a funny way of showing it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jamie
I can’t stop reading the comments.
I know I’m breaking the cardinal rule of the internet. But it’s been three days since the Fifi Gets Flipped video, and the replies haven’t stopped coming. And there’s a whole new crop of them on the Carmen’s Cupcakes picture, plus a new one Gabe posted on Grandma’s account from our Canvassing 101 talk. It’s kind of wild to see Rossum posts getting this much engagement. They used to get only a few hundred likes each, and even that was only when Grandma cross-posted them to InstaGramm. But the Nicholas Wilson video made everything explode.
Of course, it’s not just the number of comments that’s new. It’s the fact that they’re about Maya and me.
I ship these two so hard!!!!
Rossum should officiate their wedding lol
Aww I love this!!!! Definitely voting for Rossum, and thanks for the tips!
wow they want to kissssssssss
JAMIE, THE WASHI TAPE I stan only Maya
more maya and jamie content please!!!
I guess they’re not that bad. Definitely a little creepy. But at least they haven’t mentioned the way I looked at Maya at the end of that video. At least these new ones imply some kind of reciprocal interest, which is . . .
Well, for one thing, it’s way less embarrassing.
And I guess I wouldn’t mind knowing what makes people think Maya and I want to kissssssssss. For research purposes. Obviously.
After all, if everyone sees it, maybe there really is something to see?
I tap into the nested comments under I ship these two so hard!!!! There are fifty-eight of them. Fifty-eight people weighing in on the issue with crying emojis and heart eyes and exclamation points. It makes my head spin.
“Jamie, it’s starting!” Maya plops down beside me on my living room couch. Closer than usual. Way closer than usual. “You’re so glued to your phone today.”
I tap out of Instagram fast, shoving my phone in my pocket as The Office’s intro music rises. We’ve been working our way through the end of season two since we got back from canvassing this afternoon.
Yes No Maybe So Page 21
