The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,64
to getting people to the polls. Especially in New York where you have to be registered twenty-five days before election day. For a presidential election, where there’s so much media attention, it might make sense. People have it on the brain to register early. But for local elections…primaries, it really hurts us.”
“It’s worse other places.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Everyone is so worried about voter fraud even though it rarely happens. What they should be worried about is how few people actually register and even fewer vote. A lot of elections would look differently if we managed to mobilize the entire population.”
“Your real passion—participation.”
I winked at him and then pointed toward a large group up ahead. “Participating in the government is the hill that I die on,” I confirmed. “I was the asshole who didn’t give a shit about participating. I thought that I had everything. That it wouldn’t matter what happened. I was young and stupid. Politics are personal. Politics are everything that you do in your life. It’s your roads and your health and your children and your air and water. It’s not just the controversial stuff that makes the news.”
“I’m with you,” Sam said. “Once you get bit by the campaign bug, it never goes away. I worked for Senator Maxwell back in North Carolina.”
“Wait, the hot one?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, the hot one.”
“The one who, like, banged an undergrad?”
“I was an undergrad when all that went down at UNC. It was blown way out of proportion. He’s a great guy.” I eagerly looked at him for details, and he just shook his head. “Anyway, we worked with so many small races where the margin of victory was literally less than a hundred votes. So few people were voting that just asking your friends to come with you could have changed the tide of the election.”
“Right! I mean, it’s not exactly the same for the mayoral race here. But I think voting is the least you can do. Calling your representatives, going to a phone bank, knocking on a few doors—it all doesn’t take that long.”
“Or you can be like your parents and just give money.”
I snorted. “Or that.”
“We need the money,” he said with a shrug.
“Yeah. Have to pay everyone.”
“Buy the fancy ad spots.”
I wrinkled my nose at him and smacked him with my clipboard. “It’s the people that make the campaign.”
“The people and the community.”
“Again, preaching to the choir,” I said as we finally came up on the ground. “You or me?”
He shrugged. “I got the last one.”
“All right.”
I took a deep breath and approached the group with my biggest, most genuine smile. “Hi there! We’re out today, doing voter registration and celebrating the Fourth with a little civic duty of our own. Are all of you registered?”
One woman smiled and nodded. “Yep, we are.”
“Great!” I said enthusiastically. “I hope that you’ll all be out to the primary on August 6th to vote in the mayoral race.”
“Wait, Mom, I don’t think I’m registered,” a college-aged girl said.
“We can do it later.”
“Actually, the deadline is next weekend. And it’s super easy. Only takes about five minutes of your time. We send it for you and everything.”
The girl nodded. “I’ll do it.”
I handed over the clipboard, and then, like clockwork, a half-dozen other people remembered that they’d moved or that they weren’t registered at the right address. Sam and I passed out clipboards and pens and let them fill out the information.
The mom who had first spoken just looked at our shirts and lifted her nose. “I don’t even know why you support her. She acts like she’s tough on crime, but then her son is such a mess.”
“But he’s hot, Mom,” the girl currently filling out the form said with a giggle.
The mom just glared at me as if I were the reason for all of this. But I was prepared. It wasn’t my first rodeo.
“I support Mayor Kensington because of the amazing work she’s done with wage disparity for women. I’m proud to work for her campaign and say that I make a dollar for every dollar a man makes there. It’s competitive, but no one is making less just because we’re women and we’ve been taught not to ask for more,” I told her with a smile. “And she’s working on doing that everywhere. I can get behind that.”
Her scowl vanished into something almost thoughtful. “I suppose that makes sense. At least you have a reason.”