Page 90 of The Pacifist
Emanuela pushed her chin up. “Like I need your permission.”
“Ha!Youmight not need my permission, but the men do. All I have to do is stand beside you and they won’t touch you.”
“You know perfectly well that if you stood beside me, they would all be flocking to meet you anyway.”
“We should all do it,” Anne exclaimed. “The councilman, the soccer players, and the swimsuit model.”
I lit up in a wide smile. “That would be some meet and greet booth.”
“Fine with me.” Hunter gave a nod of agreement. “It would give me a chance to meet my fans again and let the clubs see that I’m still popular.”
“Oooh, I love campaigning.” My mom pushed her plate out of her way. “You should have big banners and matching shirts too. I can make some in the print shop if you need me to, and remember to tell everyone you meet that you are counting on them to vote for Khan.”
A smile spread on my lips as I listened to my family take over the planning of the meet and greet booth. One of the first things I’d learned at the Council academy when I was a child was that the best way to distract yourself from your own problems was to focus on solving someone else’s.
“How about this idea?” Emanuela widened her eyes. “If the Nmen are so skeptical about democracy, why not use women to sell it to them? They want more women to come and live there, right?”
“Sure.” Hunter nodded.
“So, show them interviews with women on the streets here. Have them explain why moving to the Northlands would be much more appealing if the country was a democracy instead of a dictatorship. Have a headline that says democracy is sexy.”
They kept throwing out ideas and I couldn’t wait to tell Mila about our plans. The thought that I’d see her again soon made me smile wider. And then Hunter dropped the bomb.
“I’m not sold on the idea to sell democracy as sexy, but the meet and greet booth could work. Actually, you know what would be the perfect place for this booth? Mila’s tournament. There’s going to be tens of thousands gathered.”
I’d worked so hard to block the thought that Mila’s tournament was going to happen soon.
Shifting in my seat like the chair was on fire, I got up. “Excuse me.”
“Are you okay, Jonah?” my mom called after me as I hurried out of the room with an intense pain in my chest and stomach.
Mila was marrying and I’d blown my chance to stop her.
Fresh air. I need fresh air!
Outside, I took large inhalations of the cold night air in an attempt to get my shaking hands under control.
The stars were shining bright above me, just like they had the first night I spent with her on the rooftop star lounge.
Time was running out and I was losing Mila. For real!
Bending over, I thought I was going to puke.
Sweet, adorable, funny, and kind Mila.
Falling to my knees like a man hit with a bat in the head, I clamped my arms around my solar plexus, which was burning like I’d just swigged down a large glass of acid. I’d never prayed in my life, but something made me turn my head to the sky and ask the stars for help.
“Please… you can take my seat on the council, but not Mila. I need my North Star or I’ll be lost.”
Our last night together came back to me. Her question about marriage, and my stupid, stupid rejection. I hid my face in my hands.
What have I done?
I sucked in more of the night air as a brutal and ugly realization hit me. All my talk about staying authentic and defending romantics in my speech. Mila was the purest romantic of all, and I’d rejected her need to put a label on our love because I feared what society might think of it.
I’d called myself a rebel and yet I’d been willing to conform to secure my seat on the council.
What a hypocrite I’ve been.
