Dear Rachel Maddow
Page 7
“You want to run for the school board thing?” My heart lifted. Michaela was new, but she was smart. This could work.
She snorted. “Um, no,” she said.
My heart sank.
“But you should,” she said.
“Yeah. No,” I said.
“Yeah, yes, Brynn.”
“There’s no way anyone would elect me. I’m a nobody. A blue room nobody at that. And I’m not like a genius candidate like Lacey or anything.”
“You are smarter than you let on,” Michaela said. “And intelligence has nothing to do with why any of you are down there and you know it.”
“Oh, really, now. And you are so sure of this because…”
“Because I watch you. I watch everybody. It’s a gift of being the new girl. No one notices you, so you can just watch.”
“And you watch me?”
“Yes.”
“So you think I should, what? Go after the selection committee thingy?”
“Yes. Well, no. Maybe.”
“What?” I said.
“What would you really want to happen?”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but my brain clanged against the front of my skull. What I really wanted was to go back to the paper and report the shit out of this. Get the information out to the people. But I wasn’t ready to admit that out loud yet.
“I want to punch Adam in the throat,” I said.
Michaela shook her head.
I thought about it for another moment. “But I also want to make sure he isn’t the one calling all the shots,” I said. “Or if he gets to argue for what he wants, that he doesn’t make it look like it’s what everyone wants. I legit want everyone to get a say. It’d be one thing if teachers or the school board adults were calling the shots, which they pretty much are. But if one student is allowed to try to get stuff, than all the students should get a chance. Even the kids in the rooms named after colors.” I nodded forcefully to myself.
“There you go,” said Michaela. She smiled and held my pissed-off gaze. “So what are you going to do?”
“Why should I do anything?” I said.
But the ideas were still hammering behind my eyes. The ideas were chanting, “What would Rachel Maddow do? What would Rachel Maddow do?”
Stupid ideas needed to shut their traps.
“For Lacey?” Michaela tried.
“Lacey can take care of herself. Trust me.”
“Well then, for you?”
I snorted. “Not gonna lie, I don’t really give a shit about me, either.”
“Then for the blue room. For the blue roomers to come after you. There will always be an Adam and a Sarah to act like asses. After high school, lots of Adams. Lots of Sarahs. You really want that?”
“Oh my God, who even are you?” I stared at her. It was like she could see the deepest fears buried within my brain.
“I know you try to act like you don’t care about anything, but it’s obvious you do. You try so hard when you think no one is watching. I like what you said right now. It’s cool, Brynn. It’s cool that you care. Especially about people no one else cares about. And…” She looked down. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but then she didn’t.
“And?” I said.
Michaela cleared her throat. “And you should think about it.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said. Disappointment hit me, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. “So what now?” I said.
“You become a freedom fighter,” she said. She smiled. She looked at her watch. “Well. Um. I should go. I’ll see you?”
“Um. Yeah,” I said. I stared, baffled, as she turned suddenly and retreated down the hushed mall corridor. My heart pounded.
What was that? Did this mean she liked me? Did I like her?
Yes. Yes, I did like her. Damn it all.
So help me, Rachel Maddow. Is this why people go into politics? Some weird mix of altruism and lust? It is hard to tell which one is more compelling at this point.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
Rachel@msnbc.com
From:
Brynnieh0401@gmail.com
Date:
November 2
Subject:
Nemesis
Dear Rachel Maddow,
Fridays are usually happy days at school because they mean two days of no class and three evenings of money for Brynn from the sale of underwear. But people can ruin anything, can’t they?
I was minding my own business making my way down to my learning cave when Adam literally stepped out of the shadows of the shop wing directly in my path.
“Hi,” he said.
I stopped short.
“Adam?” I was too surprised to say or do much else.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said.
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I mumbled. I tried to step around him but he maneuvered to my left, and then to my right as I tried to pass him.
“Listen, we can be on the same team here,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to turn around and walk the other way, but dude was too fast and blocked me. “Don’t you have to go drink a protein shake and throw some boys around under you or something?”
Adam smiled.
“All right, all right,” he said, holding his hands up. “Listen, your peer tutor Michaela seems to think that your ideas about ‘equality’ and ‘all voices being at the table’ are worth something. Sarah and I and everyone told her you don’t give a shit, of course. But she won’t listen.” His smile faded. “It’s a shame. She has potential.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I said.
Adam shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I just wanted to say that if we can get Principal Maynard to agree to our proposal, that obviously I … or whomever is chosen to help select the next superintendent … would be willing to work with all of you.”
“Who is this ‘you’ you keep talking about?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Brynn. Come on. You know. The basement crew.”
“Don’t—”
“It’s where your classroom is located.”
“Whatever. No student gets to pick where the classes take place. Listen. I don’t know what Michaela said to you, but I just want you to leave me alone. How about that?”
“Fine. Great, actually. Then we have an agreement.”
“Fine,” I said. Even though we were in the middle of the school hall, I still felt seriously uncomfortable. I moved to walk by him, and he let me go that time.
“It’s funny,” he said to my back.
I didn’t turn.
“Michaela and Sarah get along really well. Those two make a great team.” He snickered.
My heartbeat picked up.
I didn’t stop and look back at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But Michaela and Sarah were all I could think about for the rest of the day.
Michaela and Sarah, Sarah and Michaela. There’s no way that could be a thing.
But still.
Honestly, Rachel, what’s a girl even to do?
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Inbox
To:
Brynnieh0401@gmail.com
From:
justinhmitchell@westing.pa.edu
Date:
November 3
Subject:
You were right!
Dear Brynn,
OMG I think you were right! The contractor in charge of the War Memorial is the mayor’s brother-in-law! I think that’s why this story died. I found an old op-ed that complained about how the facade was cheap and the materials used were crappy. Bet a lot of people don’t want that really getting out there again, right?
That still doesn’t say anything about who started the fire. I thought maybe that could implicate som
eone who wanted to expose the mayor or something, but it’s not like he’s up for reelection anytime soon. And people love him, so I don’t even know if this would matter. Some kids in the journalism room say Adam Graff accidentally caused the fire as part of some prank. Did you hear anything about that?
He’d be in some deep shit if that were true.
It can’t possibly be true.
Damn it, Brynn, come back to the paper.
—Justin
Folder:
Drafts
To:
Rachel@msnbc.com
From:
Brynnieh0401@gmail.com
Date:
November 4
Subject:
Thread the needle
Dear Rachel Maddow,
I have been attempting to make things up to Mom, even though I still think it’s unfair she won’t let me explain what I meant about Nick. If he were an unapproachable subject before, mention of his name is downright cursed now.
“I watered your plants,” I said.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled as she darned Fart Wesel’s nasty socks.
“Do you need anything from the store?”
She looked up at me. “Do you want something, Brynn? I don’t have much time, and I have a lot to get done.”
“I…” I said.
Why, yes, Mother dearest. I would appreciate your unconditional love. I’d also settle for maybe you giving a single shit about me every other Thursday.
I didn’t say any of that.
What I actually said was, “I’m sorry. For what I said. A while ago. It isn’t what I meant.”
“Brynn.” Her voice threatened tears, just like that.
“I feel like it was my fault he died. Nicky. I thought maybe you did, too. That’s all.”
She stared at me, hard. No tears.
“Did you give him the drugs?” she said.
“No.”
“Neither did I.” She went back to darning.
“Okay.” I stood there watching her needle, sharp and bright, twinkle in and out of stinky cotton. “So, do you need anything?”
“No,” she said. The silver sliver pierced in and out. She didn’t look up as I walked past her and left the house to go to the library.
I have to buy my own new socks when the holes in my old ones get too big.
There’s only so much time in a day, I guess. You have to pick what’s important to you.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
Rachel@msnbc.com
From:
Brynnieh0401@gmail.com
Date:
November 6
Subject:
Once upon a time
Dear Rachel Maddow,
Today was Sarah’s birthday. Last year I put a cupcake in her locker to surprise her. She didn’t see it, and before I could say anything, she dropped her math, English, and civics textbooks on top of it. Icing oozed out beneath the bronze bust of a bald eagle.
(Do eagles have busts? Probably. That would explain so much about Aerie’s existence, anyway.)
“Ewwwww, Brynnie,” she yelled at me.
“I was trying to be romantic!” I said. “You said you liked romance.”
“I meant that I wanted you to buy me a necklace or something! Maybe go out to Red Lobster!”
“Why didn’t you just say that? Then I wouldn’t have tried to get creative.”
Sarah shook her head, exasperated. She picked up her books and handed the top two to me. She surveyed the damage to Problems of Democracy. “Eh,” she said. “Only a little bit sticky.” She looked at me, a familiar fiendish glint in her eye. “No harm done.” She licked the icing off the book.
“Ewwwww, where has that book been?” I said, my turn to be disgusted.
“Probably nowhere stranger than my mouth.” She grabbed me and pulled me into a kiss.
“Ugh. Desk germs. Backpack germs.” I shoved her away.
She laughed and gathered up the smashed crumbs. “Thank you for the birthday present.”
Her parents got her a gift card to Red Lobster, so she ended up getting part of her romantic birthday anyway.
This year I thought about trying the same thing. But she probably had someone else she wanted to be with. Someone who would know not to ruin her books and would get her a necklace.
Someone better than me.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
Rachel@msnbc.com
From:
Brynnieh0401@gmail.com
Date:
November 9
Subject:
Up all night
Dear Rachel Maddow,
You often say that you won’t be getting any sleep. Is that true? It must be, because you are a reporter and reporters have to tell the truth. How do you function, then? Maybe you just mean you stay at work really late?
I had continued thinking about my unfortunate encounter with Adam since it happened. Everything about it bothered me. I just thought and thought. I went over to Leigh and Erin’s for dinner, and even though we were getting burritos, it still bothered me.
“Someone fucking with you, kid?” Leigh had asked. He doesn’t talk much, so I must have looked pretty upset.
“Do you know anything about politics?” I asked him. He rolled a cigarette and went off about legalized marijuana until Erin brought home the food and he forgot what we had been talking about in the first place.
At school, I ignored Michaela completely when she came in. She came over twice and asked me if I wanted to talk about the math. I just shook my head. At lunch, Lacey rolled over.
“You okay?”
“Yup. Fine.”
“You don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine, Lacey.”
“Is this about me? Because honestly—”
“No, it’s not,” I stopped her. I shook my head. “It’s not.”
“Well, good. But it must be something. Are you mad at Michaela? Because I think she likes you.”
I stared down at my ham sandwich. I mashed a corner of it with my thumb.
“So it is about her?”
“Lacey, can we not talk about this?”
She sat there for a while, not saying anything. I refused to look up at her.
“Fine, Brynn. But here’s something I’ve learned. A piece of advice from me to you.”
I flicked my eyes to hers.
“If you want something, really want something, you have to fight for it.”
I grunted. She sighed and left me alone.
However, Rachel, just now on your show, you were talking to a senator from Illinois. Or Indiana. One of the “I” states, I wasn’t really paying attention. Anyway, you were talking about campaign reform and sustainable architecture and smart things, and you asked the senator about her campaign. And she said, “Well, Rachel. I’ve learned that if you want something, really want something, you have to fight for it. But sometimes it takes a while to figure out what the people really want.”
It was a message from the universe. Lacey was right. That senator from Indiana or possibly Illinois or Idaho was right. If you really want something, you have to act.
But what would that look like?
Watch this space.
Your fan,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
Rachel@msnbc.com
From:
Brynnieh0401@gmail.com
Date:
November 12
Subject:
366 days, but who is counting?
Dear Rachel Maddow,
Justin talked me into getting coffee with him since we had the day off of school.
“In about a year from now, we will be able to vote!” Justin enthused into his latte.
“More like five months for me,” I said.
“You could help elect way
more women! Into the Senate or House or for local down-ticket races. Who knows, the White House could be in play again.”
“Yes.” I sipped the venti that Justin had purchased to bribe me into being seen in a known Honors hangout.
“Aren’t you excited about that?”
“Well,” I sighed. “Honestly, I think a woman, any woman, is going to have a hard time getting elected. I’m convinced districts and counties and states will pick any insane blowhard dude over a woman almost every time.”
“That is a really cynical way to look at it.”
I shrugged. “Or just realistic.”
“Well then, we just need more women to run. It’s a numbers game. The people need to hear the right voice at the right time. And that voice is just as likely to be a woman.”
“Yeah.” I sighed again. “One can hope for more people like that. Real-deal public servants.”
“That would be awesome,” Justin said. “The world needs more public servants.”
“Yup,” I said.
We sat there and sipped our coffee. A year from now. Where would I be? Where do I want to be? I could vote next year. But maybe there were things to do on a more minor level now.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts