Release (Continued), (Ezzy's Education: Part 24), By Garrett Murch
“Here, Link Conary, is what you need to think about. Think about having a mother who’s become obsessed with the fact I’m half Latina—something I am very proud of by the way— who’s tried using that fact about me to help a new political career she wants. If I told people, I’d become a campaign prop to excite Justice voters for her. Forget about being Ezzy Bello, I’d be her lesbian Latina poster child.”
“You’re Ezzy Bello.”
”Same thing with Lucinda Barron and all the Justice people. They get very aggressive, like you’re supposed to belong to them if you’re in some sort of minority category, like they think they’re part bodyguard and part owner. They’d try to get me to say I’m oppressed, but obviously I’m not.”
“Wow, Ezzy.”
“And you know what?”
Link didn’t answer.
“Good, you’re letting me talk now.” Ezzy laughed. I can’t believe I’m finally saying all this to someone, and to a Patriot of all people. “So on the other hand, you’ve got a few people like Trunk Langston who talks about ‘the gays.’ He’s not just crude; he’s an imbecile. And I don’t think I’m being thin-skinned saying I find some things he’s said like that to be offensive. Deeply.”
“I’d be pissed, too,” Link said. “But I hope you’re not suggesting all Patriots are like Trunk.”
Ignoring Link, Ezzy said, “What does ‘Make Ebbing High Great Again’ even mean? It comes off as backward. Look, I know some of our teachers try to make us dislike our country. That’s painfully obvious and it’s not right. But we shouldn’t deny the past—or the present for that matter—in terms of the treatment of women and minorities. Discrimination was real. It’s real today, although nowhere close to how things used to be. And before you say it, I agree the Justice people are trying to fool us into believing nothing has changed.”
“I hear you,” Link said. “I agree with you. But I don’t think many Patriots are denying the past.”
“Many influential Patriots talk as if discrimination has gone extinct. Or they acknowledge its existence only to check a box.”
“I’ve never heard it put that way. Maybe Patriots are afraid if they acknowledge it, the Justices gain the upper hand.”
“They shouldn’t be afraid. But what bothers me most, truth be told, is lumping people into groups according to minor differences they’re born with, especially when it’s done to advance a political agenda. Maybe for some people that helps them make sense of things, and maybe some people just want to think of themselves as good people. It may be perfectly innocent for some people, but the results are anything but harmless. It’s practically the definition of divisiveness. And it’s dehumanizing.”
“Why don’t you speak out about it?” Link asked.
“I’ve been thinking about saying something.”
“What would you say?”
More raindrops were hitting the windshield now, not quite as large, and Ezzy turned the wipers on low speed.
“I’d say something like this. Yes, I’m female; yes, my skin is not white; yes, I’m lesbian, too. Thanks, Sherlock, you’ve mastered the obvious.” It kind of feels good letting this out! “You know what else I am?”
“What else are you?” Link asked.
“I’m Ezzy Bello! A human being like everyone else. A privileged one at that, coming from a loving, supportive, middle-class home with two great parents who love each other. My mom’s really great, Link. She’s just been frustrating lately. I probably gave you the wrong impression of her.”
“You are Ezzy Bello!”
Ezzy smiled and said, “Damn straight I am.”
She slowed the Jeep down to stop for a cow and calf moose staring at them from the middle of the road. “Hey, moose! Get off the road please!” she yelled. She laughed.
Link asked the moose to move, too. Soon the moose wandered at their own pace into the gully beside the road.
“So,” Ezzy said, getting the Jeep back up to speed, “I want to run an idea by you.”
“Shoot.”
“Here it is. I think politicians should have the same accountability as scientists. Politicians can be wrong all the time and get away with it.”
“There is accountability,” Link said. “It’s called elections.”
“Well, there are no elections of people who push their political opinions on impressionable kids: that’s politics, too. I’m counting them as politicians. And, as for elections, when both candidates are terrible, then a terrible politician is guaranteed to get elected.”
“Huh,” Link said. “Well, what would you do about all that?”
“On elections I’m not sure. But at school it’s simple: don’t force your opinions onto powerless kids.”
“It’s a start,” Link said.
“I think you’ll like talking with my father. He’s a Justice but he doesn’t sound like one, and he’s very critical of the party. I think he’s just always been a Justice. Who knows, maybe you’ll talk him into becoming a Patriot; he seems to be leaning that way. I don’t know why, with so many of them sounding like Trunk Langston.”
Link looked frustrated. “Hey, are you getting any reception on your phone?” he asked.
“Oops. I meant to tell you there’s no service here, cell or internet.” I love that so much. “We
won’t have it until we go home on Sunday.” Ezzy giggled.
“Whoa,” Link said. “So no news about the homecoming game, the party after, or school politics?”
“None. It’s great, right?”
“It is great,” Link said. “I’ll be wondering, though.”
“We can make guesses.”
“Damn straight.”
* * *
Friday, 7:17 p.m.
Verica Navratil sat, shaking, inside Lucinda Barron’s Prius. They were parked on a gravel shoulder next to motionless oak trees under the rising full moon. Verica wore the black and gray camouflage sweatsuit Lucinda had given her and she held a matching full-face mask on her lap, her fingers in its mouth hole. The party cabin, two football field lengths away, could not be seen through the woods.
“Remember,” Lucinda said. “Just like we rehearsed. Make absolutely sure no one sees you slip the forget-me pill in Trunk’s water bottle. Once the deed is done, hide out in the woods and make sure Trunk drinks it. Then text me, run back here, and I’ll pick you up.”
“I will.”
“No need to record anything. Our girls will be ready to capture everything Trunk says and does. I’ll be keeping them away from Trunk until it’s go-time so they’ll never know you were there. Once you’ve accomplished your mission, get out of there without being seen.”
“I’ve got the mish—the mission—down.”
“I know you do.” Lucinda meshed her bony fingers together. “This is going to be so good; I can feel it. Ebbing High School is about to see the raw, authentic Trunk Langston. Now go, Gunstling, my favorite. You are part of something supremely important and you will be rewarded for your service to Justice.”
Verica slipped the mask over her head, stepped out of the car, and disappeared into the woods. The party would begin in about two hours, shortly after the football game.
Ezzy's Education, the first novel by recovering Washington, D.C. political professional Garrett C. Murch, can be purchased here as a paperback or an eBook.