“Kurt decided he didn’t ever want to run against Duke. Everyone wanted to meet the dog running for mayor, and the governor was an afterthought. Kurt said that Duke is his Beyoncé.”
“That would make you Jay Z,” I speculated.
“Whoever that is,” Grandma Dawson said. “How did flying go?”
Grandmas know how to make their grandchildren happy. I spent the next twenty minutes telling her all about my adventure today.
◊◊◊ Tuesday November 8
Today was the big day. Brook and I found ourselves outside the VFW hall, where our voter registration cards said we were to vote.
I’d decided to skip the national election for president because it had ventured into the realm of the ridiculous. No one could be as bad as they tried to make each other out to be. One side went so far as to say the other candidate was mentally ill while the other said their opponent was a crook. I could understand the crook angle, being from Illinois. Our governors seemed to spend a lot of time in the big house. Plus, Chicago was known for corruption. Their motto was vote early and vote often, or so the rumor had it. And then, of course, there was our recently removed mayor.
The whole atmosphere of the national election had turned me off. People were absolutely losing their minds over it. Tami was right: if I ever ran for federal office, I would be vilified. What amazed me was some of the crap the press was spouting was said with a straight face. Dad told me that when he was younger, reporting was more balanced. Nowadays, it seemed they all had an agenda to push.
I shook my head as I decided that thinking about it was a waste of energy. Rather than dwell on it, I walked in and cast my votes for local offices, and then for the governor and Senator Dixon. I smiled when I saw Duke as the lone non-felonious candidate for mayor. I knew he would at least get one vote.
Outside waiting for us were Jeff and his cameraman.
“How does it feel to vote for the first time?” he asked.
“Great. I would encourage everyone to get out and do just that.”
“How do you think Duke will do today?”
“Fingers crossed,” I said as I held up my hand with my fingers crossed. “I think he’s exactly what we need in a mayor. At least you know he won’t be causing any harm to us while he’s in office.”
“No. I can’t imagine him embezzling funds. I’ll get suspicious if I see him with a backyard full of tennis balls,” Jeff joked.
“No worries there. Duke has a favorite tennis ball and could never be bribed to play with any other. He’s a one-tennis-ball kind of guy,” I assured him.
“I think we better end it there. Thanks for sharing with us,” Jeff said, and they stopped filming.
“You’re gold, as always. I need to get this in so we can get it on the air. See you at practice and then at Our House tonight,” Jeff said, and then hurried off.
We’d promised to take everyone out to dinner who had helped gather signatures for Duke’s petition to be on the ballot. We’d also decided to combine that with an election party at Our House. Mom said it would be free advertising for the restaurant. Personally, I wondered how we would get everyone in there before the fire marshal shut us down. I figured that if Duke was mayor, he might be able to pull a few strings.
◊◊◊
We’d learned yesterday that our first playoff game was against Waterloo, located about two hours southwest of us. They were the school that had eliminated us at Sectionals in baseball last year. For the first state playoff game, they usually tried to ensure the teams didn’t have far to travel since it was a school night. It seemed we’d drawn the short straw and were forced to make the long drive tomorrow.
The people in charge promised us we would be at home for the remainder of the playoffs after tomorrow’s game, assuming we continued. It seemed a fair compromise for forcing us to travel so far for our first game.
Coach Hope had decided that we would use the same logistics we’d employed for the Broadview Academy game and leave right after lunch. This time, the band wasn’t going, but the Booster Club had put together a tour package for our fans. The deal got you tickets to the game, dinner, and the bus ride to and from the game, all for a nominal price. Those buses would leave a couple of hours after us.
The playoff field was mostly made up of the usual suspects. That included teams we’d played last year, such as Beverly, Central, and Unity, who we’d beaten in the championship game. There was one newcomer I wanted to play with a white-hot passion: Wesleyan.
