18
Get Your Ass Down Here, It’s a Free Speech Rager
The crowd pulled me like a riptide toward Eleventh Street, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of a full-blown marching band. They were decked out in Texas Longhorn regalia, cowboy hats and fringed shirts and all, and immediately burst into a jazzy rendition of Britney Spears’s “Hit Me, Baby, One More Time.” Squeals went up around me. I looked around, dazed. There had to be hundreds of people pouring through the streets of downtown Austin.
“Alexis, thank God.” Quinn Xavier, the head of the Austin Queer Caucus, rushed toward me, defying the crowd. She gave me a once-over, then spoke quickly into a walkie-talkie. “Yes, I found her. She appears to be hypnotized by a Britney Spears song. Bringing her back now.”
Quinn took my elbow and gently steered me back to where I’d come from. “Darling, do you want the Longhorn marching band to go before or after the First Amendment Fire Eaters? The march is about to start.”
“March?” My voice was hollow. My eyes had been so wide for so long I was afraid they were going to be stuck like this. “It was supposed to be a tiny baby rally.”
“Oh, this?” Quinn jerked her chin at the crowd. “This is nothing, just a little Saturday pop-up. We got who we could last minute. Now where are you on the band and fire eaters?”
“How did you get the actual college marching band? And fire eaters?”
“Turns out the marching band’s a staunch supporter of freedom of speech, go figure, allies in unlikely places and all that. And the fire eating’s some Fahrenheit 451 reference, I don’t know, do I look like the kind of person who paid attention in middle school English? No offense, darling, the work you do as a librarian is vital, obviously, that’s why we’re here. My two cents: the fire eaters are divas, but the news likes them since they make a good shot, so you might want to let them go first. Then if there’s an accident like last time, the marching band can swoop in and distract everyone.”
I turned to her, mouth agape. “Who’s, uh, legally liable in case of a fire? Not the person in charge, right?” I crossed my fingers. Fire insurance aside, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something. Something I was supposed to do but forgot in the whirlwind of planning.
“Alexis!” The shout broke through the noise. “I was worried the crowd ate you.” Quinn and I were back at the protest’s central command station, aka a folding table loaded with water bottles, walkie-talkies, and clipboards. Zoey hurried over, Muriel and Gia right behind her. “Isn’t this great?” Zoey squealed. “Fabulous turnout!”
The mastermind behind the mayhem. I was ready to unleash a very sternly worded reprimand—tiny, my butt—when I registered her outfit. “What are you wearing?”
Zoey stood next to Muriel and Gia in, as best I could tell, the erotic movie version of their outfits. Her hair was pulled back in a bun with a pencil tucked through it, and she wore a cardigan like Muriel and Gia, except hers was cropped. Instead of their sensible jeans, she wore a slitted miniskirt. All three of them blinked back at me from behind matching pairs of thick-framed glasses.
Zoey did a little twirl. “I’m a librarian, duh! Dressed in theme.”
Gia cut in. “The Library Council and Texas Educators Association got a heck of a lot of people to show up. We’re standing between the ACLU and the Cowboys for Intellectual Freedom. Only in Texas.”
Muriel clasped her hands. “It’s so exciting! I feel edgy like my daughter.”
“There you are!” Lee elbowed her way through a crowd of men dressed like the Founding Fathers. “Reporting for duty.”
My heart soared. Lee was here. That meant everything was going to be okay. “You came.”
“Of course I came. This is your big day. Quinn, Muriel, Gia, nice to see you all again.” Lee shook each of their hands with practiced polish, then looked around, eyebrows raised. “I’m glad so many people showed up for this. It’s impressive. Now, let’s talk speech lineup. I have lots of thoughts about this banning bullshit, so I’m going to need a little more time on the docket, just FYI.”
It was happening exactly like I’d hoped. I was finally doing something big enough, something important, and Lee was paying attention. A swell of pride lifted my shoulders. Suddenly, the circus of people didn’t seem so intimidating.
“Alexis,” Zoey said, snapping me out of it. “What are you thinking for the speeches? It’s almost time to walk to the stage.”
I looked around and found them all staring at me. Right. I was supposed to be in charge. I took a deep breath. “In that case.” I waved them forward. “Let’s walk and talk. I think we open with Quinn and the head of the Library Council. They can break the ice, then we’ll move to Gabby Bui, since this is her campaign, then the author. Did you know he has a PhD in sex education?”
“He’s so nice he’s basically the Mr. Rogers of sex ed.” Lee matched me step for step despite her heels.
“Then after the author, Lee, maybe you can talk about what people can do beyond the rally? Are you okay going fourth?”
“Who am I, Mariah Carey? I’ll go whenever you need me.”
I felt the sudden urge to stop in my tracks and hug her, but Lee had never been a hugger. I squeezed my fists instead.
“What about you?” Quinn popped up on my other side. “Aren’t you going to kick us off?”
“Yeah, Lex, you have to go first,” Zoey said. “You’re the face of Logan’s campaign.”
“Would be weird if you didn’t,” Lee agreed.
Ahead of us, the massive Texas State Capitol loomed in the distance, with its columns and glorious domed roof. A chill lifted the hairs on my arms. I’d stepped (fallen?) into the big leagues. Yet again, that persistent sense that I’d missed something nagged at me. But I was surrounded by a group of determined women, all of them looking at me like they expected big things, and I didn’t want to let them down. I pushed the nagging feeling aside.
“Okay.” I swallowed, eyes on the stage. “I’ll go first.”
“And that,” I said into the mic, “is why it’s so important to fight for students’ access to books. As a school librarian, I can tell you that kids have a lot of questions, especially about loaded topics like puberty. They deserve thoughtful, shame-free books like Sex Is Not a Dirty Word to help them navigate.”
I paused, heart pounding, waiting for the clapping to die down. It was an awe-inspiring sight, all of these people stretched before me, filling the street. Awe-inspiring and terrifying. My flight instincts had been screaming at me to flee from the moment I stepped on stage, which was either five minutes or ten years ago.
“Which is why I’m proud to be here on behalf of the Logan Arthur campaign,” I concluded, speaking past the knot in my stomach. “So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to Gabby Bui, the librarian leading the charge against the book ban. She can tell you more about what she’s facing in her district.”
Gabby was already walking across the stage, so I waved goodbye to the audience and scurried off, squeezing Gabby’s arm as I passed her. Her whole face was shining with anticipation, proving some people really were born for the spotlight. I, on the other hand, melted with relief the minute I climbed off the stage steps.
“You’re a natural,” Lee gushed, slinging her arm over my shoulders. “Who knew you had it in you?”
I forced a smile. “Yep, that’s me. A natural.”
I went to flip my phone off silent and almost dropped it. I had twelve missed calls and a laundry list of texts. It was mostly Nora, whose messages turned increasingly frantic as I scrolled, from What did I just see on my Google alerts about a book banning rally? to Why am I seeing Twitter posts tagged with #LoganArthurSupportsFreeSpeech? and finally, Alexis Rosalie Stone (yes I know your middle name and a whole lot worse!) are you SPEAKING at this rally?! There were a few texts from Cary that were mostly long strings of gravestone and skull emojis, and finally, one from Logan. It just said Call me.
My stomach dropped like a lead balloon. “Oh, no.” Suddenly I realized exactly what I’d forgotten to do.
Lee peeked over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if I forgot to tell the campaign I was doing this?”
The smile vanished from Lee’s face. “Doing what?” she asked carefully. “Your introduction? The Logan Arthur for Free Speech T-shirt cannon?”
“Uh...” I grimaced. “Kind of...”
“No.” Lee shook her head and backed up. “Don’t say it.”
“All of it?”