“In Altgeld!”
“What if they say they’ll give us an answer later?”
“We want an answer now!”
“What if they do something we don’t expect?”
“We caucus!”
“Crackers!” Tyrone shouted.
The CHA office was in a stout gray building in the center of the Loop. We filed off the bus, entered the lobby, and
mashed onto the elevator. On the fourth floor, we entered a brightly lit lobby where a receptionist sat behind an
imposing desk.
“Can I help you?” she said, scarcely glancing up from her magazine.
“We’d like to see the director, please,” Sadie said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“He...” Sadie turned to me.
“He knows we’re coming,” I said.
“Well, he’s not in the office right now.”
Sadie said, “Could you please check with his deputy?”
The receptionist looked up with an icy stare, but we stood our ground. “Have a seat,” she said finally.
The parents sat down, and everyone fell into silence. Shirley started to light a cigarette, but Angela elbowed her in the
ribs.
“We’re supposed to be concerned about health, remember?”
“It’s too late for me, girl,” Shirley muttered, but the pack went back into her purse. A group of men in suits and ties
came out of the door behind the receptionist’s desk and gave our contingent the once-over as they walked to the
elevator. Linda whispered something to Bernadette; Bernadette whispered back.
“What’s everybody whispering for?” I asked loudly.
The children giggled. Bernadette said, “I feel like I’m waiting to see the principal or something.”
“You hear that, everybody,” I said. “They build these big offices to make you feel intimidated. Just remember that this
is a public authority. Folks who work here are responsible to you.”
“Excuse me,” the receptionist said to us, her voice rising to match mine. “I’ve been told that the director will not be
able to see you today. You should report any problems you have to Mr. Anderson out in Altgeld.”
“Look, we’ve already seen Mr. Anderson,” Bernadette said. “If the director’s not here, we’d like to see his deputy.”
“I’m sorry but that’s not possible. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll have to call Security.”
At that moment, the elevator doors opened and several TV film crews came in, along with various reporters. “Is this
the protest about asbestos?” one of the reporters asked me.
I pointed to Sadie. “She’s the spokesperson.”
The TV crews began to set up, and the reporters took out their notebooks. Sadie excused herself and dragged me
aside.
“I don’t wanna talk in front of no cameras.”
barré
(Barré)
#1