can do everything, every single thing right. Knock on every door. Organize the fuck out of everything and everyone. Stay on top of every media opportunity.” He scrapes his hands through his hair. “And it could all go to shit tomorrow for literally no reason.”
I look at him. “Then why do you do it?”
“Well, what’s the alternative?” Gabe laughs, but it’s strained and panicked. “Hand these fuckers the election? Believe it or not, cuz, I care about this shit. You think they’re paying me well for this? You think I have a fancy job lined up in DC if this goes well? Look, 2016 fucking wrecked me. Turned my world upside down. And I’m just another white Jew. Not even close to the worst off.” He exhales. “I can’t fix this mess, but I want to fix a part of it. And this election? Jamie, it’s so fucking small. You know, in the grand scheme of things. We win this? Nobody cares. It will be in the news cycle for a day or two, maybe, and that’s literally just because of the Fifi story—”
“And me and Maya,” I say.
“At least you put us on the map.” He sighs defeatedly. “Even if we win tomorrow, it’s the puniest, most nothing victory. But it’s my whole life right now. And it all comes down to the numbers—”
“No it doesn’t,” I say, and Gabe snorts. “It doesn’t! It’s not about the numbers. It’s not even about the end result. Not entirely.”
Gabe smiles sadly. “Oh, to have your shiny-eyed optimism—”
“I mean, the numbers are important. Really important. But that’s now.” I clutch the edge of Hannah’s desk. “Yeah, in this moment, the numbers are everything. But when you step back from it, it’s just another point on the timeline. History’s a long game. It’s the longest long game.”
“That’s bullshit,” Gabe says. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit if the world rights itself in a thousand years. That’s not good enough.”
“But I’m not talking about the world righting itself. I’m talking about us righting the world.”
Gabe looks unmoved, but I keep going.
And it’s the weirdest thing. I feel so messy and heartsick and completely off-kilter. But my mouth is saying exactly what I want it to say.
“It’s not about waiting for the good parts of history. We’re the ones who have to make them happen. We have to draw the timeline ourselves.”
“Yeah, well. Right now, that just feels like a fuckton of pointless work.”
“But the work itself is the point. You keep doing it, because otherwise, how do you keep from feeling helpless? It’s like those sharks that keep swimming or they die,” I say. “It’s about the act of resisting. Waking up every day and deciding not to give up.”
I peer down at my phone screen. Maya’s locked profile, with its tiny circular profile picture. The soft brown of her skin. Her hair. Her smile, in miniature.
This girl who hates change, but wants to change the world. This girl who never holds back when it matters.
I didn’t even know I could miss someone like this after two days.
“Hey.” I glance up at Gabe. “You know, even if we lose, your work matters. All of this. It all counts.”
“Yeah, well—”
“It matters,” I say again. “Not that I think we’re going to lose. No way. But I’m just saying.”
Gabe snorts, but he’s smiling. “You’re pretty inspiring, Big J. You’re going to be quite the politician one day.”
I smile back. “I know.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Maya
I’m driving my car to the polling station. It still feels weird. Not standing in my driveway waiting for a friend or a ride. This is my car. I made a list last night of all the places I want to apply to for a job, now that I can actually hold one down. Barnes & Noble and Starbucks are both high on my “want” list.
Target would’ve been there too, but I’m not sure how Kevin would feel about hooking me up with a job, after what went down between us. And, well. There’s the matter of Jamie too. Taking a job at his favorite place feels like a nonstarter.
My throat constricts, thinking of him. We spent nearly a month knocking on doors, handing out flyers, putting up signs. Now it’s election day. And we aren’t even speaking.
I park at the polling station, and pause to look at the Instagram photo I posted this morning. A selfie of me with a Rossum button, encouraging all fifteen of my followers to get out the vote. I