Font Size
Line Height

Page 8 of Small Sacrifices

There are the tweets and Instagram posts of Stephanie Greene, who is the mother of the child affected, and also a teacher at the school.

For days and weeks, she's been trying to raise awareness—and not just with her school district, but also with Agrifarm and Governor Mackenzie. Reid is reasonably certain that she’s the first to draw the connection between the two publicly.

Every single post of hers that Reid found and compiled for this was screaming with anger and fear.

But the reason he chose her: For the longest time, she wasn't blaming the governor.

"@CALgov: Children are getting sick on the grounds of the elementary school you sponsored in @BeechValleyTownOfficial.

We need help!" was the first thing she sent their way.

There are pictures of her little boy, Robbie, displeased with having his photo taken and even more unhappy with what looks to be a painful rash spreading not only over his face and from his hands up his arms but also down his shins.

She documents nights spent holding a bowl for him to throw up into and days where he's so weak that even watching TV makes him cranky.

And she speaks of upset tummies and itchy skin on children she teaches, even in those who aren't severely ill.

But she always just asks for help, she never accuses.

At least not in the posts that Mr. Wright now shows while he talks about what a great candidate she would be for an in-person meeting with an interview and photo op.

People love teachers, apparently, and they’re going to love her.

When they see she doesn't bear a grudge, they’ll be reassured that they don't need to, either.

Or so Mr. Wright says. "She won beauty pageants when she was still in school.

She knows how to act in front of a camera. "

The pain from Reid's fingernails digging into his palms only grows more pronounced when they slacken in surprise.

What? Reid bites the tip of his tongue. He didn't know that.

Has Mr. Wright done his own research? Intrigued, he sits back.

If Mr. Wright has taken his idea and further refined it, he's interested in how he plans to solve the obvious problem.

But the man only continues to drone on about how perfect it would be to visit her and her son at home—which is presumptuous—and assure her that her medical bills will be paid—which is too little too late.

No mention of her tweet posted the day before the article was released, hastily deleted when her account was discovered by the public at large.

Reid had barely taken a screenshot before it disappeared.

"The governor poisoned my son. It sounds ridiculous, but what else is the silence meant to make me believe? Take responsibility, @CALgov!"

That tweet wasn't in Reid's write-up. It was gone so quickly that he wasn't sure she meant it—this is the sort of thing that he'd want a second opinion on. Maybe from Mr. Wright.

Only Mr. Wright seems to have gone and appropriated his idea and his research without warning.

He must be unaware of the tweet, or he wouldn't be advertising Ms. Greene as their miracle solution so unreservedly.

And maybe his eyes wouldn't be shining so brightly when Governor Mackenzie says: "That sounds like an excellent idea. Have you contacted her already?"

Mr. Wright freezes, but only for a moment. "No," he says. "I didn't want to take her away from her child for something that was so vague." The way his eyes wander makes Reid think that he's lying.

But it's the right thing to say. The governor laughs and moves closer to pat him on the shoulder. "Good man. Well, please do. If we can get someone like her to cooperate, that could really help. But before anyone else proposes any strategies, let me say this: We're not going over there this week."

He pauses to allow for the hissed whispers that fill the room.

"Now, we're going to release an official statement later today.

But I don't want to go with empty hands and make empty promises.

I want to know exactly what's going on. And for that, we need to let the task force do their job. I have a meeting with them in—"

His eyes widen as he looks at his watch.

"Twenty minutes, damn. We'll need to be quick.

But I want to know what's happening and what they're doing about it before I go blazing in.

That way, I'll know what help to offer that will genuinely be of use.

And I'll avoid looking stupid if our current information is bad.

That's why we'll go next week. Mr. Wright will assemble a team to travel with me, but I need all hands on deck. "

And there's that winning smile again, lighting up the room.

"Most of you will be working on this. And you will all say the same things: I did my due diligence on Agrifarm and was working with them in good faith.

Yes, they have contributed a lot to my campaigns over the years, but they have not influenced my politics.

They just already liked them. I did not know that plot of land was contaminated, or I would never have accepted it on behalf of the city, and I certainly wouldn't have asked them to build a school on it.

I am devastated that families are suffering and furious that it took me this long to find out about it. Yeah?"

Nods and murmurs of agreement ripple through the room. Reid nods, too. It's admirable that the governor can be so calm about it. Reid would be an absolute mess by now. But that's why Reid is doing what Reid is doing, and the governor is the one in the public eye.

Mackenzie's face is smooth, and his words are level. There's not a hint of defensiveness that Reid can see, just calm conviction. And that calms Reid's own mind. Yes, this is horrible. It never should've happened. But it was an accident, and they can only move forward now.

"Great!" Mackenzie exclaims and claps his hands together.

Reid startles so violently that his butt leaves the chair for a second.

Next to him, Marisol laughs. It makes him want to shove her, and the urge is so unexpected that he's only half listening when the governor excuses himself from the meeting so that he can still…

change his shirt before he has to be on a video call with the secretary of CalEPA? Reid isn't sure.

He's distracted by the way Marisol giggles and the sight of Mr. Wright shuffling the papers on the desk.

The last slide of his presentation is still bright on the wall, a jarringly happy group picture of teachers, community members, the mayor of Chesterton, and the governor in front of the newly opened school, congregated around a sign that proudly proclaims Lacrimosa Elementary School in a jumble of colors.

As soon as the governor leaves, Mr. Wright starts delegating tasks.

Marisol is reassigned from her infrastructure research to digging into Agrifarm's connections with the governor—seeing what a journalist might uncover through public resources.

Someone else is tasked with researching soil contamination from pesticides and potential removal methods.

Reid doesn't get an assignment.

Heat churns deep in his stomach. Is Mr. Wright serious about this?

The way that his eyes kept catching on Reid while he was assigning the tasks makes it obvious that he hasn't forgotten him.

So what is going on? Reid did good work, obviously, or Mr. Wright wouldn't have taken it and passed it off as his own.

Chairs start scraping across the floor as the people around him get up and leave the room. He himself is still a bit numb and lost in thoughts, but Marisol pinches him as she walks by, which wakes him up enough to follow.

He's almost reached the door when Mr. Wright calls his name. "Mr. Reid! We'll meet in my office in an hour. I think we have a lot to talk about."

Somehow, Reid thinks they want to talk about very different things.