Dean had changed me. The world was brighter, the stars were nearer. Dean had been wrong in the cemetery. Magic was real. I still didn’t know how we’d gone from cussing each other out to kissing, but I wasn’t gonna overthink it. Fine, I was definitely going to overthink it, but not right then. For at least a little while, I was going to enjoy the high of knowing I’d made out with a Hufflepuff who didn’t have a definitive opinion on the exceptionally important question of pie versus cake.
“Andre Rosario?”
I finished typing my last message, fired it off, and closed my phone. The woman standing over me was curvy and bright with a short Afro and this violet shade of lipstick that was kind of everything.
I stood and held out my hand. “Dre.”
“Holly Clarke.”
“I loved the piece you wrote about internet call-out culture,” I said. “I bet you got a lot of shit for trying to show both sides of that.”
Holly flashed a wide, genuine smile. “I try never to read the comments.” She motioned to the chair by mine. We were close enough to hear and see my dad but were hidden from the audience. “The research was eye-opening, though.”
“You ever decide whether the internet mobs are a force for good or evil?”
“It’s never one or the other,” she said. “Often it’s both. The internet gives a voice to marginalized people who are usually ignored when they speak. But the speed at which that shit travels discourages deep reflection and rewards shouting the fastest and loudest.”
“Right? You wouldn’t believe the trolls I gotta deal with sometimes.”
Holly gave me a look like, Did you really just say that? and said, “I am a queer black woman writing about stuff most folks don’t care to think about. Trust me; I believe.” She laughed, and I hoped it was to let me know I hadn’t stepped in it too badly.
“Hold on,” I said. “I just have to get my foot out of my mouth.”
Holly laughed again and held her phone out, setting it on her lap. “All right if I record?”
I didn’t care, but I checked with Jose, who’d been half listening since Holly had shown up. He nodded tersely and kept on with his phone call.
“Cool,” Holly said. “This is mostly a profile, and I’ve got to tell you that you’ve got a lot of fans on staff. I thought a couple were going to give me a shove down the stairs so they could take my place.”
This was the part I found weird. I understood why people flocked to my dad, and I was happy that so many people liked the work Mel and I did on Dreadful Dressup, but I didn’t get why they were curious about me. I was no one. There were so many people who were a hell of a lot more interesting. Shit, there were tons more teens who’d done amazing stuff with their lives and deserved to be profiled than me. But Holly wasn’t asking them questions, so I did my best to answer and not look like a fool.
We started off easy, talking about my childhood and school and Dreadful Dressup and what it was like thinking my dad could be the president. Eventually, the talk turned to actual politics.
“Is it safe to say you probably wouldn’t vote for Governor Arnault?” Holly asked.
“Pretty safe,” I said. “Like, she’s nice and all, but I can’t see voting for someone who wouldn’t protect everyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a president’s gotta be willing to protect the rights of all people, even the ones they don’t like.”
“Are you referring to Arnault’s stance on LGBTQ issues?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We’re people, and if she wins, she’d be our president too, but she thinks trans soldiers should be kicked out of the army. How’s that fair? How’s that being the president of everyone?”
Holly smiled along with my answers and nodded like she was hanging on every word. I’d been in some tedious interviews, but this one wasn’t so bad. “How about Jackson McMann?” she asked. “Young people, surprisingly, seem drawn to him. Do you have any thoughts?”
“From what I’ve seen of him, he’s kind of a dick.” Jose threw me a warning look, but I ignored him. “You worked on group projects in school, right?”
“I hated them.”
“Me too,” I said. “So you know how there’s always the type-A who’s gonna wind up doing most of the work, a couple of people who’ll contribute just enough to slide by,