want to do this.” She slides her hands down, peering up at me. “Like, we don’t even know if they’re going to listen to us. Or they might be angry we’re taking their time. They might hate Rossum. They might be total jerks in general. They might—”
“I know.” I meet her eyes, for just a moment, but then I look away quickly. “But if it helps to know this, they’re only having us knock for Democrats and Independents. Who can be jerks, yeah. But it’s not like . . . you know.”
“Yeah.” She presses her lips together. “Yeah.” For a minute, she stares moodily out the window.
Then, suddenly, she unbuckles her seat belt.
“Are we—”
“Come on, let’s just get this over with. Okay? What house are we starting with?” She opens her door, stepping onto the curb.
I scramble out behind her, scrolling frantically through the app. “Okay. Uh. Two thirty-six. This brick one, right there with the—okay, yup, that one.”
Already, she’s halfway up the driveway.
So now I’m standing on a stranger’s doorstep with my hand hovering over the doorbell. “You ready?”
Maya crosses her arms and nods. I ring the doorbell, and immediately, there’s a frenzy of dogs yipping and footsteps and even muffled voices. But no one answers.
Maya and I exchange glances. “They’re definitely in there,” she says.
“Do you think they’re ignoring us?”
“Looks like it.”
“Maybe they’re showering or something? In separate showers,” I add quickly. “Not like a big group shower. Unless that’s their thing, which is fine—”
“Come on.” Maya grabs a walk piece and shoves it next to the doorknob. “We’ll get the next house.”
But we don’t.
And we don’t get the house after that either. Turns out, nobody’s even answering their doors. And it’s after six. I guarantee at least half these people are home. There are cars parked in almost every driveway. I keep marking everyone down as not home, but I feel gross about it. It’s hard not to take it personally.
“I get it,” Maya says as we approach the next house. “We’re interrupting everyone’s Friday evening. I hate when people knock on my door.”
I glance up—there’s a mezuzah on the door frame. “Yeah, they may be getting ready for Sha—wait, is someone coming?”
“Whaaat.” Maya’s jaw drops, just for a moment, but then she quickly collects herself, standing up straight. “Okay. Okay! It’s happening.”
The door creaks open, revealing an elderly white woman—at least a decade older than Grandma—wearing a blue quilted pajama shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. “Why, hello,” she says. “Who do we have here?”
Maya springs into action, beaming so brightly, I almost stumble backward from the shock of it. It’s the first time I’ve seen Maya smile all day. And okay, I’m not saying Maya’s general face is heinous or anything. But when she’s smiling? It’s next-level not heinous. She’s just so—
Yeah. I’m not going to go there. Literally no point in going there.
“Great. Hi!” Maya says. “I’m Maya, and this is Jamie, and we’re here with the Jordan Rossum cam—”
“Well, isn’t that a nice surprise. Y’all can come right on in. I’m Barbara.” She turns, gesturing for us to follow.
Okay, so. Following old ladies into their houses? Not in our script. Not part of the game plan. And I don’t want to say for sure that we’re getting kidnapped, but I’m pretty sure we’re getting kidnapped.
Maya and I exchange panicked glances.
I clear my throat. “Uh. We were just—”
“What are you waiting for? Come on in.”
I look helplessly at Maya, who’s clutching the stack of walk pieces like they might fly away. Actually, Maya looks like she wants to fly away with them. But Barbara’s still standing in the foyer, expectantly.
I take a deep breath and cross the threshold.
“Now what can I get you? Lemonade? Sweet tea?”
Maya shakes her head. “I’m okay, thanks.”
“Nothing? Well. I’ll just make a little plate of cookies. Won’t take me but a second. And you can just have a seat right there on that couch.”
I settle in, and Maya sits beside me, so close to the edge that she’s barely sitting at all. “This is like a fairy tale,” she whispers. “But in a bad way.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“I think she’s coming back. Okay, what’s our—hi!” Maya’s whole tone and expression shifts the minute Barbara walks back in, and I have to kind of marvel at that. I barely know how to be myself, and here she is turning into an entirely new person, mid-sentence.
“Now please help yourselves,” Barbara says firmly, setting a plate of dusty-looking cookies in front