The Voting Booth

by Brandy Colbert

  But it’s too late to worry about that. It’s too late to do anything but crack my knuckles, flex my wrists, and count us off to start the show. I tap my sticks together: One, two, one-two-three-four…

  We start off with what Svetlana calls our shit-kicking-est song. It’s fast on the beat, my sticks getting a serious workout on the snare, and it always gets people dancing. Svetlana’s voice wails at just the right pitch, Anthony’s fingers work like magic over the keys, and Benicio is jamming the fuck out of that bass. We sound good, and I am so damn relieved. I’d never hear the end of it if we didn’t; I’m well aware that if anything goes wrong tonight, I’ll be taking all the blame.

  Our second song is our most experimental one, with me keeping a soft, slow beat that starts out heavy on the hi-hat, letting Benicio’s bass take the lead. My eyes have adjusted a little to the lights, but I still can’t see anyone out in the crowd. I do see movement, though, so I hope that means people are into it.

  By the time our fourth and final song is up, I’m soaked with sweat and high on adrenaline. Random whoops burst out from the crowd just often enough to energize us and keep us going. Anthony’s rhymes are fire, Svetlana’s backup singing is the perfect balance, and we’re all in sync. You’d never know they all wanted to kill me before we started our set. And I never want to stop.

  But the song eventually winds down, and we play the final notes, and the audience is going wild, cheering and even chanting our name: “Drugstore Sorrow! Drugstore Sorrow!” I look at Anthony, wiping my forearm across my face. He grins back at me, and I’m pretty sure all will be forgiven by tomorrow.

  As soon as the curtain goes down, we start screaming and jumping around, hugging and talking over one another.

  “We fucking did that,” I whoop, not caring who hears us on the other side of the curtain.

  “Guys, we kicked so much ass,” Svetlana breathes, her red-lipped mouth open wide in a smile.

  “Wasn’t sure we were gonna do it, but we totally pulled that off,” Anthony says, shaking his head. He knocks me with his elbow. “No thanks to you.”

  “Credit where it’s due, Ant.” Svetlana eyes me. “He was a real shit, disappearing today like he did, but Duke held his own on those drums.”

  “Dope,” Benicio says, his hair falling into his eyes.

  “We need you and your gear out of here, like, yesterday,” the stage manager says, watching us with his hands on his hips.

  “He is such a bitch,” Svetlana murmurs, but she gives him a sickly sweet smile as we begin disassembling our things. Kendall runs from backstage to help us, and she keeps saying how good we were. She looks proud. Our eyes catch across the stage and she gives me a small nod.

  I can’t help wondering what Marva thought. Even if she doesn’t like it, I hope she knows that was the best we’ve ever done. Seems like everyone in that room had to feel it. Anthony pulls the van up to the back entrance and we start loading in our things. I’m carrying as much as I can without dropping it, because I just want to get out there as fast as I can and see Marva.

  As soon as we’re done, I tell the band I’ll catch them inside and sprint around the building to come in the front door. The place is packed. I’m glad I couldn’t see anything from the stage, because I don’t think I would’ve been able to play if I’d known how many people were actually watching us.

  One advantage of being as tall as I am is I can see over the tops of most people’s heads. Makes finding someone in a crowd pretty easy. Like now, when I spot Marva standing off to the side of the juice bar with my sister. I got a text from Ida right before the band went on, saying our parents were so exhausted after our family meeting that they didn’t protest when she asked to come tonight. Dad dropped her off and everything. I think he and Ma are just happy she’s being honest with them. Ida and Marva are laughing and talking like they’ve known each other for years, and it kind of makes me nervous how much they like each other. Ida knows too much about me.

  I fan myself with my shirt, but I’m so sweaty, the only thing that’s going to help is a long, hot shower. I hope Marva doesn’t mind.

  When Ida sees me coming, she breaks out into a grin and nudges Marva. “Make way for the rock star!”

  “Shut it,” I say, shaking my head.

  “You guys were really, really good, Duke,” my sister says. “For real.”

  “Thanks, Ida.” I look at Marva, who’s watching me with an unreadable expression. “If you hated it, you can pretend like you don’t know me.”

  “The only thing I hated was that you didn’t play longer! Duke, Drugstore Sorrow is totally good!”

  My ears start to flame. “You don’t have to say it to make me feel better. I know we’re probably not your thing.”

  “Stop being a diva and take the compliment.”

  I shove my hands into my pockets. “Thanks.”

  Ida is looking at her phone. “Mom wants to know if we’ll be home soon. The election results are starting to roll in.”

  Marva looks sick.

  “Are you gonna watch?” I ask.

  “Yeah, of course. I need to do it at home, though. I want to be there if Selma comes back.”

  “They still haven’t found her?”

  “Not yet,” she says, her eyes sad and tired.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I really thought with all those people, they’d be able to find her.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She pauses. “Do you want to come over to watch the results? We started this day together, so it only seems right that we end it that way.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’ll come over and watch with you.”

  Ida is looking back and forth between us with the biggest grin. The human equivalent of the heart-eyes emoji.

  And it kind of grosses me out that she’s looking at us like that, but when my eyes land on Marva…well, I gotta admit, I feel the same way.

  WE GET BACK TO MY HOUSE AROUND NINE THIRTY after we drop off Ida.

  “Your parents know I’m coming, right?” he asks, looking up at the house nervously.

  “I texted them,” I say, pulling my backpack out of the backseat. “They’re cool with it. My mom’s just about as chill as my dad.”

  He stops me before I can walk past him toward the house. “Wait.”

  I look at him expectantly.

  “Thank you. For everything you did for me today. You were…you are fucking amazing, Marva Sheridan.”

  I give him a tired smile. “You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. But…Duke. What if it’s not enough? If it was so hard for you and the rest of the people at the church to vote today, think about other people. The ones who gave up when they weren’t on the voting roll or their polling place was closed…”

  I trail off. If I keep talking, I might disappear in a cloud of anxiety. Duke touches my shoulder and lightly squeezes.

  “Well, I made it. Clive made it. And so did a bunch of his friends,” he says. “I have to think other people realized how important this is and figured it out, too. Even if they weren’t lucky enough to have a Marva Sheridan on their side. There’s nothing more you could’ve done to impact this election except run for office yourself. And I have a feeling it’s just a matter of time until that happens….”

  I tip my face up. Duke is haloed by the white of the streetlight, and his face has never looked better.

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve planned out my entire life. I’ve had rules about what I am going to do and when, who belongs in my life and doesn’t, what I care about and don’t. But today has been the biggest surprise of my eighteen years. When I met Duke, I never imagined we’d end up here. And even if the breakup with Alec is new, wanting to kiss Duke is real.

  “I like you,” I whisper, hoping the words don’t get lost in the cool night air.

  He rubs my back and his eyes smile down at me as he says, “I like you, too. What are we gonna do about it?”

  “This, I think.” I rise up on my tiptoe
s and he bends down to meet me and—

  This. Kiss. Is. Perfect. Truly, it’s as if our mouths were meant to fit together. His thick lips are warm against mine, and he tugs my bottom one between his teeth, nibbling gently before he pulls away.

  “God, I’ve been wanting to do that for a minute,” he says, smiling. He traces my lips with his finger, drawing a slow, careful line that makes me shiver.

  I stare at him the whole time, watching the way his eyes crinkle as he examines every inch of my face, as if he’s just seeing me for the first time. We kiss again, our mouths opening. His tongue is soft as it gently explores mine, and he tastes fresh, like mint, and I never want this to stop, and—

  I pull away with no warning. “What was that?”

  “The best thing that’s happened to me today?” he says in a lazy voice.

  “No, it sounded like—”

  There it is again.

  A meow.

  And when I look around Duke’s broad form, there, sitting in the middle of the driveway, is my Selma. Tail wrapped around herself and blinking at me like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “Oh my god! You’re home!” I race over to her before she has a chance to get away and scoop her up, smushing my face into her soft, soft fur. “Oh, Selma, I missed you.”

  She meows again, squirming in my arms, but I hold tight.

  “Damn,” Duke says, following us up to the front door. “I can’t believe I’m in the presence of the Eartha Kitty.”

  “Mom, Dad!” I call out as soon as I step into the brightly lit living room. “Selma’s home!”

  They appear from the back of the house, both wearing their pajamas. Dad looks thrilled to see Duke is back—maybe even more thrilled than he is to see Selma.

  “Where’d you find her?” Mom asks. “I hear the search party was out pretty late. She might even still have some people looking for her.”

  “She walked up the driveway as we were getting ready to come in,” I say.

  My parents exchange a look, and I hope to god that means they didn’t see us kissing.

  “Is she okay?” Dad asks.

  “Looks like it,” I say, searching her for visible bite marks or scratches. “I guess the neighborhood cats know not to mess with her.”

  “She’s a celebrity. They know their place.” Mom shrugs. “But we can take her to the vet tomorrow, just to be sure everything checks out.”

  “You’re a bad girl, and I’m so happy to see you,” I say, smacking a big kiss on Selma’s head before she successfully leaps out of my arms and tears off down the hallway toward my room.

  “By the way, Mom, this is Duke. He and Dad already met.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Terrell, Duke,” Mom says with a sly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  Duke shakes her hand and says the same while I try not to melt from embarrassment.

  “Looks like we won’t know the election results until late,” Mom says, smoothing my braids. “How are you feeling about it?”

  “Nervous, mostly. But…I guess it helps to know I did all I could.”

  “You’ve done more than most people would ever dream of, sweetie. Not a lot of people stay this committed to a cause. No matter how this turns out, we’re proud of you.”

  “So proud,” Dad says, giving me a fist bump. “And tired. We’re going to watch the results from bed. Don’t stay up too late. You have school tomorrow, remember?”

  “Good night,” I say, watching them walk down the hall to their bedroom.

  I’m too nervous and tired to eat, and Duke says the same. I fill Selma’s bowls with fresh food and water, and post a picture of her online with a quick but heartfelt thank-you so everyone knows she’s home.

  Then we settle on the couch, our bodies finally giving in to the exhaustion of the day. I turn the TV to one of the millions of twenty-four-hour news channels providing nonstop election coverage. Their voices instantly give me a headache, so I turn the volume low and look at Duke.

  “The votes are so close.”

  “We could still win,” he says, taking my hand in his.

  It’s impossible to tell.

  “I’m not expecting anything.”

  But I like the feeling of his fingers threaded between mine. It makes me feel like we’re in this together, win or lose.

  “Listen, I get it if you just want to go back to…friends? Or whatever we were when we met this morning,” he says, his eyes tracing the features of my face. “Today was…a lot.”

  “I don’t want to go back to the way things were,” I say, leaning my head against his shoulder. “But I might need to take things slow.”

  “Yeah, me too,” he says with a smile. “Gonna be pinching myself tomorrow, wondering if I really met you.”

  “Let’s document it.” I pull out my phone.

  His long arms hold it out for a selfie, and I know I must look like crap after the day we’ve just had, but I don’t care. I’m happy. I lean into him, his free arm wrapped around me as he snaps a picture. And when we pull it up, we do look tired and a little disheveled, but I like it. It proves we made it through the day.

  I set my phone aside and Duke leans in for a kiss. He runs his hands through my braids, and I notice he spends a lot of time sliding his finger and thumb over the hot-pink one. My favorite one. I hope I never forget the feeling of his lips meeting mine.

  I hope I never forget this day.

  Once again, an insistent meow interrupts us, and this time, Selma is sitting in front of the couch.

  “So you run off all day, making thousands of people worry about you, and now you don’t want to be ignored? Oh, Selma,” I say, scooping her up and setting her on my lap.

  She settles right down, content after a meal and fresh water, and starts grooming herself.

  On the TV, the news anchor says it will be a while before the final results come in.

  “Do you need to get home?” I ask Duke, scared he’s going to say yes. I don’t think I can go through this alone. Not after all we’ve been through.

  “No way. I’m here till the end.” He gently strokes Selma’s back. “Even if things don’t go our way, it’ll be all right. We’ll get through it.”

  “We kind of have to, huh?” I say.

  “Yeah. And we got this, Marva. No matter what.”

  He’s right.

  We got this.

  I am grateful to so many people who helped bring Marva and Duke’s story to the page.

  Laura Schreiber! I have so much gratitude for your editorial prowess, encouragement, and humor. Working with you on this book was so much fun, and I’m thankful for your guidance and enthusiasm through every stage of the process. Eartha Kitty forever!

  To Tina Dubois, my literary agent and dear friend, thank you for everything, always. You’ve been with me since the very beginning of this publishing journey, and I’m so proud of how far we’ve come.

  To the team at Hyperion—Emily Meehan, Stephanie Owens Lurie, Dina Sherman, Melissa Lee, Danny Diaz, Marci Senders, Sara Liebling, Guy Cunningham, Marybeth Tregarthen, LaToya Maitland, Holly Nagel, Danielle DiMartino, Vicki Korlishin, Elena Blanco, Kim Knueppel, Sarah Sullivan, Kori Neal, Monique Diman, Lia Murphy, Michael Freeman, Molly Kong, and Sara Boncha—thank you for treating me and this book with such kindness and respect. It’s been a joy and an honor to work with you all.

  Stephanie Singleton, thank you for the beautiful cover art and for bringing my characters to life in exactly the way I pictured them.

  Thank you to librarians, educators, and booksellers for supporting and sharing my work with young people, and to my readers for trusting me with the stories I tell.

  Thank you to my parents for instilling in me the importance of voting from a young age, for encouraging me to educate myself on candidates and what their campaigns stand for, and for reminding me to always use my voice.

  And, finally, thank you to all the activists and people who dedicated their lives to voting rights for the disen
franchised, particularly for Black people in the Southern United States, where my family hails from. This was difficult, dangerous work that was often met with extreme violence or other retaliation, yet they persisted through hardships that seem nearly unfathomable now. Their courage and determination will not be forgotten, and their legacy remains strong in the continuing fight for freedom and equality.

  BRANDY COLBERT is the award-winning author of Little & Lion, Pointe, Finding Yvonne, and The Revolution of Birdie Randolph. Her short fiction and essays have been published in several critically acclaimed anthologies for young people. She is on the faculty at Hamline University’s MFA program in writing for children, and lives in Los Angeles.