Page 4 of Small Sacrifices

It takes Reid a moment to process this. It's not the dressing down he'd anticipated. This is reasonable—an actualconversation. He nods numbly, rewarded by a brief smile from Mr. Wright. It's small, but it's there. Reid counts it as a win.

"Good. Anything else?"

Is that question rhetorical?Reid hopes it isn't. "What will be my next task?" he asks.

Mr. Wright cocks his head. "Tell you what—we're having a giant strategy meeting tomorrow. You've heard about what happened, I hope?"

There’s only one answer to this. Reid says, "Yes." And then he nods and bites down on his tongue to keep himself focused and to keep himself from fidgeting and asking why they’re not having this meeting today, as early as possible.

"Right," Mr. Wright says and aggressively stacks the pages of Reid's report. "Well, there's a chance that it's every bit as bad as it looks. But we're gonna need someone to confirm that. And then, we'll need a strategy for how to get out of this mess. You seem to be good at research and strategy. How about you just see what you can find? Get a fleshed-out proposal with the appropriate documentation to me by midnight. If you impress me, maybe we'll present it to the team." He scratches his nose.

That doesn’t sound like a good idea. Exciting, yes. Very much so. But while Reid is confident in his abilities and intuition, he's not deluded. He knows that he's new and inexperienced. There’s no good reason for him to be the one to work on this. And alone, on top of that.

But Mr. Wright isn't incompetent, or he'd never have reached his current position. So Reid won't be the only one working on this. He'll just be showing what he's capable of on his own. That thought makes Reid feel lighter. This is a positive thing. He still has a lot to learn about how to work well within a group. And he still doesn't really know the people on this team, so he can't anticipate what they'll want or expect.

"What kind of documentation would you need?"

Mr. Wright starts to leaf through the topsy-turvy sheets of paper in his hands at a speed that makes Reid think he wants to project business. "Everything you can find," he says and smacks his lips. "Just assume that whoever reads your report knows nothing. Who knows what you might find that others might miss?"

It sounds like a compliment, but it at least doubles as a dismissal. The man isn't even looking at Reid anymore. So he mumbles his agreement and walks back to his desk at what he hopes is an acceptable pace.

Marisol seems to be expecting him, because she's already looking at him when he exits Mr. Wright's office. When he gets closer, she does some sort of acrobatics with her eyebrows, that he assumes is a question. A shrug doesn't animate her to actually verbalize it, though, so Reid just says, "It was fine."

He doesn't want to start a conversation now, because he's already laser-focused on the topic at hand. There's a list of tasks scrolling by his inner eye. If he lets himself get distracted, he'll never be able to finish it all on time. But that's where his headphones come in handy. Marisol looks dissatisfied when he puts them on, but she does still return the apologetic smile he offers her and goes back to her own work.

After taking a centering breath, Reid activates the noise-canceling feature on his headphones and dives into his research. What he uncovers is disturbing. Even though he has a hot cup of tea to sip on, he feels a chill as he reads through the few headlines that preceded the article in theNew York Times."New playground not good enough—parents complain," "Your children are safe in their schoolyards—Mayor assuages public concerns over allergic reactions in medically fragile children," "Test results come up clean: No contaminants found in third-party testing."

It makes something tingle in Reid's chest. They tried to cover it up. Children were getting sick after playing in their schoolyard—where they should have been safe—and not only did the authorities not help, but they also tried to distract and outright mocked them. They even kept the schoolyard open, so that more children could get sick.

It's terrifying that it took theNew York Timesto prove them to be liars. Reid would have expected this from Agrifarm. But the mayor and the other local politicians who’ve been running interference? That comes as a shock to him. If Governor Mackenzie had known about it, he would have said something. He's the one politician Reid knows of who never shies away from the difficult topics and who genuinely cares about his constituents. That's why he wanted to work for him.

This, though. This is different. It looks incredibly bad. If they don't get the public narrative under control soon, it won't matter that the governor was lied to. But if they say the wrong thing too early, that also won't be good. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. This is a man who will genuinely fight for his constituents, and he might be ruined because someone lied. Reid does his best to gather all the important information so they can avoid that.

At some point, he realizes he'll have to order himself dinner because he didn't bring any. He loses almost thirty minutes over that. When his salad arrives, the dressing is too sweet. But it comes with a bread roll, so at least Reid has something in his stomach.

By this point, Reid's phone has transitioned out of work mode. It rings shrilly, and Reid winces so hard that his chair creaks. He doesn't even need to look at the screen to know it's his parents. They have a scheduled call every Monday evening. But this is more important right now, so he shoots them a quick text message and continues.

It takes him until late into the night to type up his report and add all the relevant footnotes. And then, when he's finished, he realizes no one is going to read a full report in a meeting. There would be no time—and then how is Mr. Wright going to give him the floor to present it? He doesn't have a PowerPoint.

The deadline is too close to give him time to make one. Instead, Reid settles for a handout. Everything is blurry by that point. Reid’s mind feels fuzzy and he's incapable of actually proofreading the handout. For a moment, he wonders if he should still attach it to his email if he can't be sure that it's perfect. But his dad always tells him he needs to be willing to make mistakes, even with important stuff.

With a sigh, Reid hits "send" on the email that will deliver his proposal to Mr. Wright. His supervisor left for home five hours ago, but he answers his emails at all kinds of impossible times of the day. Reid doesn't doubt that he will read it.

His eyes are heavy when he packs up his things and gathers his empty takeout boxes to throw away. Somehow, his brain already feels like it's packed in cotton wool. That doesn't bode well for tomorrow. When he turns around at the door, Reid is surprised to find that he was the last one in the office—although the time really should have clued him in that may be the case. The light switch gives a satisfying click under his fingers.

When he hurries down the corridor that will take him outside, he expects to be alone. That's why he has his eyes firmly on the ground when he runs into someone. But he doesn't have the energy left to look up, so when he's gathered himself, he apologizes profusely and hurries on and hopes he hasn't just offended someone important.

The chilly night air shocks him awake again. It's February, and while there have already been some nice days, at night, the temperatures still regularly dip quite low. Reid thinks that's agood thing, because he'd rather not sleepily get into a warm car that he'll potentially crash. It's safer this way.

But Reid's still not all there. He just can't pay attention to the cobblestones right now. When he catches one with the tip of his shoe, he doesn't have the wherewithal to catch himself properly. He himself doesn't fall, but his things do. Cursing under his breath, he checks his phone for damage. There isn't any, just as there isn't an explanation for why the hell this employee parking space is on freaking cobblestones. There are people who wear high heels to work.

When Reid tries to run a hand through his hair, his fingers catch on a knot. Right, he's already done that way too many times this day. Sluggishly, he collects his belongings. Standing back up leaves him facing the State Capitol. It's lit up beautifully in the darkness, although Reid knows that's probably not a decorative thing, but more for safety reasons. Most of the windows are dark. But there's still light burning behind some of them.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't be of much interest to Reid, but there's a figure in one of those windows, and they appear to be looking straight at him. Of course, he could be imagining it. Maybe that person is just staring into the darkness. But Reid could swear that he feels eyes on him.

He blames the cold for the resulting shudder and scrambles for his car. It's late. He's just imagining things.

Chapter 3: Calling home

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