Chapter Text
When she hears about the impeachment decision, she knows she wants to be there. She’s not sure why it matters so much, she just knows she can’t miss this. She throws a few things into the car and sets off, points herself north, passing farms and prairie as the sky darkens and evening turns to night.
The roads are quiet and she sings to the radio as she skirts the edge of Indy then on towards Chicago. In the dark small hours of the morning she stops for gas and coffee in Wisconsin. And as she crosses the state border into Minnesota, the sky is starting to lighten on the Eastern horizon.
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Six months earlier
It is Mrs Kravtiz who introduces them to the boy mayor. Mrs K is hands down Leslie’s favorite teacher. She teaches them American History, but she gets her classes to think about current issues - politics, civics, even the stuff that is happening in Pawnee - and link it to what they’re learning about. She listens to her students like she cares what they have to say, like the opinions of a group of 17 year olds might be interesting, even important. It’s because of Mrs Kravitz that Leslie has applied to UI to major in History, and after she and her Mom had had that awful fight over college applications, she’d gone to Mrs K’s room and sat with her, talking about her options and her ambitions, getting her essay polished until they’re both happy that it’s as good as it can be.
It turns out that Mrs Kravitz has a sister up in Minnesota, and in a town nearby, an 18-year-old boy has just been elected mayor. She brings in a bunch of cuttings from the local papers and hands them round. They’ve been studying the history of municipal charters, and Mrs Kravitz thinks that the class might relate to the idea of power flowing down, from the President and the US government, through the state and into the hands of a person more-or-less their age.
“I want you to stop thinking about history as something that happened in the past, and politics as something that happens to other people, to adults. These things affect all of us every day. How much power you have, and how to choose to use it, is one of the most important things you can think about. Throughout your lives - but that includes now.” She gets this kind of embarrassing shiny expression on her face as she speaks to the class and Leslie feels a little ball of excitement in her stomach. She knows that being on the student council means making decisions about what happens at school, sure, but real decisions? Real power? Does she really have those?
The class discussion, though, goes about how you might have expected. Shauna decides that Benji Wyatt is cute, and declares that she would have voted for him, solely on that basis. Mikey declares him “the world’s biggest nerd” for wanting to be a mayor, although it's only a few weeks since Shauna and Mikey broke up, and maybe he's trying to make a point.
Mrs Kravitz pulls the discussion back, and they talk about the devolution of executive power, and what a town mayor actually gets to do. And this is the bit that gets Leslie. A teenager? Barely older than her? How do you step out of normal everyday life - from college applications, and fighting with your mom, and wondering whether it’s better to go all the way with someone you don’t like much or die a virgin - and into a life where you're the freaking Mayor? Where you make decisions and change people's lives?
Mrs Kravitz sends them away to write a paper on local government and the difference between Mayor-Council and Council-Manager administrations. Leslie gets an A for her paper, and after class Mrs Kravitz calls her over. There’s a nationwide politics essay contest being held for senior year students - the results won’t count towards their college applications but being highly placed would be seen favorably by the admissions teams. This is pretty prestigious, she says, and she thinks Leslie's paper might be the basis of a good entry.
"I've heard you in the Debate Club , Leslie, and I know you have a knack for being persuasive and pulling people in. When you talk, they stop and listen. Use that for your essay - if you can capture that X factor on paper, I think you could place - maybe even win.".
As Leslie’s preparing to leave, her teacher opens a drawer in her desk and hands her an envelope with a bundle of newspaper clippings.
“These just came from my sister - thought you might like to see a little more about what the teen mayor is doing with his powers,” she says.
At home later, Leslie leafs through them, reading the local press’s enthusiastic accounts of Benji Wyatt’s successes in his first couple of months in office. She discovers that he stood on a platform of fiscal responsibility and reform after the previous Mayor had been caught making a number of deals with local businessmen which were certainly shady, probably downright illegal. The investigation into all of that was just starting up, but in the meantime, the townspeople clearly loved the new incumbent. “Refreshing” comes up a lot. “A breath of fresh air”. Honest. Energetic. One reporter gushes at length about how handsome he was - Leslie isn’t sure whether that’s really an essential attribute for a public official but it clearly wasn’t hurting his popularity.
At the bottom of the pile is a profile from one of the Minneapolis papers, with an interview. It isn’t long and she reads it quickly, fascinated to know what sort of person this boy mayor is. The answer, it turns out, is that Shauna and Mikey had both been right. He IS cute, and also a massive nerd. He loves political talk shows, apparently, and Han Solo - although he doesn't plan to emulate his leadership style, he says. He’s intrigued by the youth of revolutionaries like Hamilton and Monroe - he thinks that young people in politics deserve to be taken more seriously, not seen just as a novelty.
Predictably, he talks about his commitment to public service, and his love for his home town. The Partridge school ice hockey team had finished as runner-up regional champions the year before, but the arena where they trained was small and run down. Benji Wyatt’s plan is to extend the facilities, and to pay for it by doubling the capacity, running an NHL-size rink for the teams to train on, which would be open to families and fun skaters too. He talks about the education opportunities that would open up for Partridge students through scholarships and about the advantages that the town would reap as a whole - fitness, wellbeing, togetherness, not to mention a big upturn in income as people start coming in from neighboring areas to use the facilities. Really, Leslie thinks, it sounds great. He’s smarter than she’d expected, and his ideas are ambitious. He doesn’t think like a kid..
There's a photograph with the article, of Benji at his desk in the Mayor’s office. He’s smiling easily and confidently (maybe a little cockily) into the camera. He’s wearing a terrible tie, and has his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal nice-looking forearms with the remains of a summer tan. Spiky hair, brown eyes. Under the desk, just visible, she spots a pair of battered All Stars on his feet.
There's a possibility she might actually be in love with him.
………………………………………………….
Winter comes in early, and it comes in hard. They’re no strangers to snow in Indiana but the temperatures drop, and the winds pick up, and the Pawnee schools close, open for a few days, then close again. It’s getting close to the holidays and the school board decide it’s safer to close up early while the weather remains so bad. The reporters are saying it's the worst winter in living memory across the Midwest.
Leslie and her mom listen in to the announcement on the radio, Marlene rolling her eyes and making her usual snarky comments at the head of the district School Board (“Honestly, Leslie, I could sit on my fanny all day drinking coffee and getting paid for it, but do you think he could run a middle school? Or teach fifth grade?”).
Leslie hopes that a couple of quiet weeks might be a good idea. She knows she’s going to need good grades for college, and she’s been spreading herself a little thin recently with the school council, and Drama Soc, plus all the extra work she put in for her competition essay . Maybe with the schools closed, her mom might be around a bit more, she thinks - perhaps they can clear the air a bit about the whole college applications thing, and maybe her mom might actually listen instead of barking opinions at her.
She knows her mom loves her, really; she knows she’s proud. And she, Leslie, feels proud. Her mom has always told her to aim high, never to believe that there’s anything she can’t do. And she knows, that’s a gift. It’s made her strong. But it’s also hard; her mom’s expectations are so high, and sometimes she just doesn't feel like she can ever live up to them. Sometimes she wonders if her mom looks past My Amazing Daughter Who Can Do Anything and sees her just as Leslie.
After Leslie's dad died, it felt like her mom saw life as a challenge to be won. She'd always been the organized parent while Leslie's dad was the fun one. He'd spend hours messily working on elaborate homework projects; Marlene would be the one to make sure they were handed in on the right day rather than being left on the kitchen counter.
Once it was just the two of them, Marlene was determined that the Knope women would keep on top of things. It became a matter of pride. They wouldn't fall apart. They'd meet every deadline, they'd ace every project. Days when Leslie just felt sad and a bit lost, her mom would be there with her to-do list and her endless lists of ideas for things they could work on together . And it did help, she thinks… it helped, right? It kept them moving forward.
Just sometimes she doesn't want to move. Just for a little bit, sometimes, she wants to stop.
It’s a moot point anyway. School may be closed but her mom snaps straight into organization mode, arranging a phone tree of colleagues checking on local families, and pulling together a committee with the other school principals to co-operate and share resources. She’s on the phone constantly, surrounded by color coded binders full of lists. Leslie, in turn, holes up in her room, under the comforter, with her books. She plans out her studies, appreciating the bit of headspace that the school shutdown has bought her in a busy year.
She misses school, though, more than she thought she would. Misses her friends, misses being surrounded by noise and jokes and silly conversations. Misses studying in the library with Joe, the Math genius who is helping her with the Math-y side of the AP Economics class she's taking. She doesn’t like studying on her own. She talks to herself, setting out the structure of the module she’s trying to learn, questioning herself, responding. She starts talking to the pictures on her wall - they’re her heroes, after all, and between them there’s nothing they don’t know about history, politics or pretty much anything (Sandra Day O’Connor is quite intimidating; she has a lawyer’s eye and her questions can be scarily specific).
Benji Wyatt's picture is up there too now, and he’s easier to talk to. In her head, he’s less of an inquisitor, more of a co-conspirator. He laughs at her nerdy history jokes and tells her she’s doing a good job. She can almost see him, stretched out on her bed on top of her comforter while she sits at the desk, hands behind his head, shoes off, bony feet in white sweat socks, reminding her of the dates she needs for the assignment on the Market Revolution, Asking her whether she thinks Clinton stands a chance against Bush in the election.
Honestly, sometimes she thinks she’s going crazy.
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Christmas is quiet. It was always Leslie’s dad who had made a big fuss of the holidays, and even without the bad weather, Marlene’s not one to concentrate on the fripperies. Leslie is the one who gets the tree down from the loft and hangs it with decorations. There’s no special food in the house but they eat a casserole, and Marlene has a few glasses of wine, and it’s nice. Just the two of them; family.
The weather stays very cold, and the snow is deep, but by the New Year the storms seem to have blown through, and school re-opens. Leslie has never been happier to see her friends. She sits in the library with Joe, smelling that smell of books and Axe and a thousand hormonal teenage bodies stuffed into a small space. And Shauna’s at the next table making her laugh with a goofy face, and she’s hiding her laughter behind a textbook so they don’t get thrown out, and when Shauna passes her a note she knows it’s going to be asking whether she thinks Mikey was checking her out in the cafeteria earlier because he totally was and Leslie totally thinks they’ll be back together soon, and really it’s just so good to feel normal.
They start having conversations that start “just a few more months”.
Just a few more months until we never see the cafeteria mac and cheese again.
Just a few more months until we get to stay out all night and party.
Their dreams are small, and predictable, and thrilling.
She knows, at the back of her mind, that time is running out. She knows that she wants to go to college, that it’s the next step and that it’s going to open her life up into something exciting and full of possibilities, but she also knows that this - school, her friends, PAWNEE - is all she’s ever known and she’s scared to leave it behind.
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The day that the essay contest results are due, she wakes to an empty house and the smell of coffee. That’s normal, Marlene has never slept much, even before her job meant being in school super early. Leslie’s feeling anxious and itchy - not physically but somewhere inside her, just irritable and scratchy and out of sorts.
There’s a jug of pancake mix in the fridge and a note on the counter:
Good luck with the results today, honey. Can you grab dinner from JJs (also milk please from the store) I will be home to hear all about it. Mom xx
She’s not sure when or how the results will come in, and she’s heard nothing by lunchtime. She’s just clearing her tray when she sees Mrs Kravitz on the other side of the cafeteria, waving to her and pointing towards her office.
“Leslie, sit down,” she says, once they’re in there with the door closed. Leslie feels a bit sick.
“I….. well, I heard back from the essay judges, and I have bad news and good news. The bad news is: we posted off your essay in December, it all went off fine, but apparently it didn’t reach them for the deadline. We think it may have got lost somewhere in the system with that awful weather before Christmas. Unfortunately it wasn’t there on time for the contest and they’ve said they can’t make an exception.”
There’s silence for a minute and she looks at Leslie uncertainly, trying to gauge her reaction.
“I’m sorry, I pushed it right up the chain to the most senior person but they’d already chosen the winning essays and they just couldn't change it. The good news, though - and I know it might not feel like good news right now - is that they said your essay was incredibly good. Of a similar standard to this year’s winning entry, were their words. They’ve strongly recommended you to enter next year with either the same essay or whatever you are working on by then - they think you could be a definite contender for one of the prizes”
Leslie isn’t sure what she thinks. I mean, this is just a silly contest, right? Not important. It doesn't make any real difference to her college applications or anything. But God….. to know that her essay was really good, that she could have stood a chance of winning and lost out because of something she can’t control…. She hates that. It just feels UNFAIR.
“Leslie, I know this is a disappointment but please listen to me: the thing I want you to take away from this is that your essay was excellent. Really impressive. They loved what you had to say and they were struck by your talent in putting your arguments across. Whatever the outcome of the competition, and whether or not you choose to enter next year, you have that talent. You are that person. Please, I hope you feel proud. Those skills that you have aren't going anywhere - they’ll be obvious in your college essay, they’ll be obvious in any interviews that you do, and they’ll shine through when you start your career. This is just a blip”
It’s nice, what Mrs K is saying. She does listen, and it’s hard not to feel a little bubble of pleasure at her words. She knows that her essay was good, she’d loved writing it and researching it. Just…… ugh, just everything.
“I’d better not keep you, I think the bell’s about to go. Come back and see me later if you want to talk - you know my door is always open and I miss our chats. I want to hear about what you’ve been working on outside of my classes”.
Mrs Kravitz smiles, and stands up, signaling the end of their conversation, then opens her desk drawer. “Oh, before I forget, my sister sent these - are you still interested in the boy mayor thing?”. She takes out a thin manilla envelope and hands it over, just as the bell rings over their heads.
“Have a good afternoon, Leslie. I’m sorry about the contest. But think about what I said. You’re a very smart young woman and I promise you, you have a bright future ahead of you”.
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She's back in the library, leafing listlessly through her Economics book. Joe’s in class somewhere, and she’s finding her eyes running back and forth over the same page of text without comprehension. She’s not even sure that she knows what half of these words mean but also her mind’s not on her work.
Is she….. Does she have what it takes? Her mom has always said she does but that’s her mom. Always Leslie’s biggest cheerleader and her worst critic. Teachers have liked her, but she thinks sometimes that’s because she listens, behaves herself, puts her hand up at the right times. No–one’s ever really said anything to her like Mrs K, and she’s not sure what she thinks about it.
She takes out the envelope of cuttings, and spreads them out on the table, hoping for more photos, maybe another interview. There are fewer articles this time, recent cuttings from the last few weeks, and as she starts to read, she’s shocked by the change in tone.
Further delays hit troubled Ice Town development - mayor fails to ease concerns over job losses
“We can still make this work”: Mayor Wyatt addresses angry town meeting
Beleaguered Wyatt showing signs of pressure as Ice Town debts mount
Gone are the complimentary adjectives and the flirty mentions of his good looks. Things have clearly not been going well in Partridge. One longer article sets it out - the winter there has been particularly bad, stopping work on the new sports complex at a crucial point. The site has been damaged, costs are spiraling and the external funding partner has pulled out. Many of the town’s big contracting firms are involved with the project, and they’re losing money fast, some on the brink of collapse.
Mayor Wyatt is not popular. His youth and ambition, so exciting when he was newly elected, now were clearly liabilities harming the town. “Frankly, we sent a boy to do a man’s job - more fool us,” is the bitter verdict quoted in the article.
She pushes the cuttings back into the envelope. Today officially sucks. She needs to not be in school right now. In a booth at the back of JJ’s, she thinks, with an extra extra large hot chocolate and extra sprinkles. It won’t make everything OK, but it will help.
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It’s getting dark by the time she gets home. Takeout containers under one arm, struggling to turn the key with her empty hand, she can see her Mom isn’t home yet. Leslie doesn't normally come home to lit-up windows and a car in the driveway, but she realizes that she’d been subconsciously hoping that today might be the day, that her Mom might be finished early. Sometimes she does, sometimes she’s there with a pile of marking on the kitchen table, and she’ll ask Leslie about her day, and stroke her hair off her face like she's little. She feels like she could have done with that today. She feels heavy and flat, and talking to her Mom would have helped.
As she puts the food containers down, she notices the red light of the answering machine flashing, and goes over to play the messages.
Honey, it’s Mom. I won’t be back for dinner. I hope your essay did well. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back - maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow before school? I love you, I’ll see you later.
Well, that’s that. It’s not unusual, her Mom has an important job, she knows that. She’s proud of her. So why does she feel like these hot tears are going to spill over, like she just wants to be wrapped up in a warm hug and made a fuss of?
She almost doesn’t hear the second message.
Leslie? It’s Leonora Kravitz here. I just got off the phone to my sister and thought you might be interested to hear there’s a council meeting in Partridge tonight. They’re impeaching Benji Wyatt.
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She’s not sure why she goes, except that she wants to be there. She wants to be there, and she also wants to be somewhere other than stuck in her house on her own. There’s something in her head that just says Screw it and she’s gathering a sweater and snacks and her favorite cassettes and she’s three miles out of Pawnee before she even stops to think.