The Fight for Kidsboro (55 page)

I couldn't imagine Joey ever winning any contests in public speaking. He did not have a very polished delivery, and his content usually sounded like it was meant for a five year old. But Joey had a knack for picking the right sermon at the right time. This time, as always, he had something to say to me personally.

“How many of you have heard of the apostle Paul?” he said, asking for a show of hands. His father, also a preacher, did this in his own sermons to get people's attention and to get them involved. Joey didn't do it with quite as much flair, but it did get us involved. Mr. Whittaker and I both raised our hands.

“Paul was a missionary for Jesus. And he had a real bad time of it. Wherever he went, he was in danger. He was beaten, robbed, and stoned. He Was in three shipwrecks and thrown into jail a bunch of times. He hardly ever slept. He had to fight against lots of people who didn't want the gospel spread. But he did it anyway. He did what he had to do, even though it made him unpopular, sent him to jail, and all that other stuff.

“Like it says in First Peter 3:14, ‘But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed.' Paul stood up for what was right,” Joey said, “and he was blessed, because he became probably the greatest missionary ever and wrote more books of the Bible than anyone else.”

Joey was right once again. The apostle Paul stood up for what was right, even though it made him unpopular. Suddenly it occurred to me that if you do the right things long enough, not only will God bless you, but you will win the respect of other people. I realized that my decisions should never be based on what I think will make me more popular. They should be based on what is right. I wanted to jump out of my chair and clap. I now knew what I had to do. Actually, there were two things I had to do. I would start on number one immediately.

I called everyone that I could find together. I grabbed people off the streets of Kidsboro and asked them to join me in the meeting hall. I was glad that Scott, Nelson, and Jill were among them.

They gathered at my invitation, and I stood in front of a lot of confused faces. This was something I'd wanted to do for five years.

“I called you all here to publicly apologize. I lied to each and every one of you, and I'm sorry. I ask for your forgiveness. I lied to you about my life in California because my mother and I had to escape my abusive father. We changed our names because we didn't want him to find us. I will answer any questions you ask, because now it's finally over. My dad is in prison and will be there for a while.” I scanned the faces and could sense that no one blamed me.

“My name is Jim Bowers, but that's a name I'd rather forget. I'd like you to keep calling me Ryan. Other than my name and my past, I'd like to believe I'm the same person you've always known me to be. Please don't treat me any differently.”

I noticed Jill among the faces. I had promised her that someday I would reveal my deep secret. From The look on her face, I could tell that she forgave me, just like everyone else.

After the crowd cleared out, Jill approached me. “So that's your big secret.”

“That's it.”

“I was kind of hoping you were a criminal. It'd make better headlines.”

I chuckled.

“Listen,” she said. “I want to apologize for that nasty article I wrote about you.”

“No, you were right,” I said. “I caved in.”

“I did too. We really made a mess of things, didn't we?”

“Yeah … but I don't think it'll last much longer.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I have a plan. Let's get a city council meeting together.”

The city council agreed on what we had to do. We had to make the special interest groups accountable for the money we'd given them. We made appointments with all of them, and they all came, group by group, to hear the bad news. The five city council members sat on one side of a table, while the members of the different groups stood on the other side and heard their sentences.

“You have three days to prove to us that your group is good for our society and not dangerous,” I said to the slingshot group. They looked worried. “We want to see the benefits of having slingshots in our town.”

They all looked at each other as if to say, “Are there any benefits?” But they tried to act as confident as they could.

“We will have another meeting in three days—72 hours from right now—and if you can't prove that slingshots are truly useful, we will take away your designated slingshot area and make slingshots illegal again. Got it?”

They nodded slowly, and then realized they needed to look positive about finding benefits to having slingshots in Kidsboro. “No problem. Three days.”

“We'll have lots of stuff by then.”

“We don't even really need three days.”

“I can already think of 10 or 12 benefits right off the top of my head.”

We all waved good-bye, and as soon as they got out of earshot, we could see them having a panic meeting.

The other groups paraded in as well. The farmers were told that in three days we would check out their garden to see whether it was making progress, and they would also have to submit a written plan for making sure the produce was all eaten. They left arguing about who would write the plan. I don't think any of them really believed the vegetables would actually be eaten by people.

The animal rights group had to prove to us that their animals could contribute something positive to our city. If humans were required to take their places in society, then animals had to as well. They all had to find jobs in three days. I had a feeling that if any of the dogs became respected physicians, James would scream.

The Clean Up Kidsboro group had three days to show us that their goals were being accomplished. Otherwise, they would lose their funding. Kidsboro had to be virtually litter and pollution-free, and they had to make sure the outdoor bathroom was built.

“Who's going to build it?” one of the group members asked. I just smiled.

Valerie's feminist group came in, expecting us to start fulfilling our promises to them. They got what they asked for—sort of.

“I'm giving your group a government project.”

Valerie and the two other girls high-fived each other.

“You will be paid, as a group, to build an outdoor bathroom.”

“I'm sorry. A what?” Valerie said.

“An outdoor bathroom. A latrine.”

“Oh.”

“I thought you'd appreciate that since you said you wanted jobs that were usually given to boys,” I told them. They stared at me with their mouths open. They had to make a toilet?

“Okay,” Valerie said, putting on a brave face. “We'll do it.”

“Yes, you will,” I said. “Because if it's not done in three days, you'll lose all your funding.”

“Three days … great. We'll get right on it.” This was supposed to be what they wanted. They had to be determined to do it.

They turned around, their eyes still wide with shock.

The feminist group was the last of the day, and the city council members began gathering up our things. Scott snickered, and Nelson joined him. All these groups had come in with their heads held high, and had left with their tails between their legs.

I was interested in seeing the results of this challenge. Scott and I planned to watch everyone very carefully. But there was one thing I had to do before I started. And I was dreading it.

“You called for me, Mr. Mayor?”

“Yes, Lauren. Have a seat, please,” I told her.

She hesitated before she sat, as if she wondered if my asking her to sit was a sign that I was going to say something bad.

“You don't want to sit?” I asked.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“I've been working on my spelling, I really have.”

“It's not your spelling.”

“Is it something else I did?”

“You didn't do anything, Lauren. I just need to talk to you.” She finally sat down, though she didn't look like she believed me.

“Lauren …” I knew immediately that I shouldn't have started off saying her name, because she closed her eyes and prepared for the blow. “You know that we've had some economic problems in Kidsboro lately.”

“Yes.”

“It's because of these new taxes. A lot of extra money is going out this year to different groups of people, and because we're having so many problems with the economy, the city council and I believe that we need to hold these groups accountable. You also know that I've been under some criticism for hiring you, right?”

She suddenly stood up and started crying. “I'll have my desk cleaned out this afternoon, Mr. Mayor.”

“Lauren, I'm not firing you.”

“You're not?”

“You have to pass a test. To prove that you're worth your salary.”

“A test?”

“Yes. It's a project, and you have to have it done in three days.”

“Okay,” she said, wiping away the tears.

I pulled out a thick stack of papers. “This is the city charter. Every law that we've ever come up with for Kidsboro is in it. We've added a lot to it since we started, so it's very disorganized. There are laws stuck in here at random, and they need to be put in categories. Like laws that have to do with the court system, laws about conduct in the town, laws about money—stuff like that. It all needs to be retyped and look very professional by the time your three days are up.” She had a blank look on her face. “Do you understand?” I asked.