Weird. “Didn’t know they were contacting me. And Cathrow’s back in Texas? Did he say anything about my dad?”

Mayor [Name Redacted] Cathrow.

There was a lot to say about him, but I’ll bypass a thorough history lesson and keep it simple. He was not a mayor. His people let him keep the title after being Domingo’s leader between 1987 to 1991. In those four years, he championed the ideals of the conservative supernatural, questioning anyone in our body of government who dipped a toe into legislation that could pave the way to world revealment. 

I didn't like him, not because of his views but because of the history behind them.

Marcel grabbed his phone and turned it around. At first glance, the search engine that greeted me seemed like it belonged to your average full-human, but I could see the little gold iridescent border that circled around the URL bar, ensuring that the contents below could only be seen by those who understood it. Underneath the bar, an article with a video attached to it began to play.

“Mr. Cathrow, you and the heads of the Caster people have already begun a counter-campaign —”

“Yes, yes we have.”

On the screen, a man as wrinkly as the raisins in Lily’s obscure brand cereal raised his pointy chin to stare at the woman interviewing him.

“ — as I understood. Do you think this measure taken by a recently elected senator will result in a different outcome from that of the past?”

“I do not, Joan. I’m confident that Senator Ramirez’s proposition will not be taken up by our constituents, the vote will fail with them first before it can ever make it to the House or the Senate. It has happened before and it will happen again.”

“What do you think compelled the Senator to move forward with his plan?”

“He must have been incredibly ill-advised, or he wishes to be infamous. Regardless, both Senators for the Caster people are firmly against it. The Wolven leaders cannot count on their two votes alone.”

I sniffed loudly. Of course, he’d fail to mention Rossdale and Okumba’s support. That was four votes in the Senate, and we’d only need one more, assuming that my dad’s colleague was on his side - which I didn’t doubt.

“Pay attention to what he says next,” Marcel said. Lily leaned in, her ear pointed towards me and the phone.

On the screen, the Telesuper news anchor intertwined her fingers politely over her crossed legs. She spoke with graveness.

“We’ve known Skinners have been making a resurgence. Attacks on the four unions have increased from a decade ago. Do you think this will have an influence on votes? Some are adamant that the Full-humans are the only ones with the world-scale power to keep us safe.”

Cathrow raises his pale chin higher. In a gentleman’s drawl, he says:

“The humans who hunt us are not part of the Plight of Skins. Why we have decided to desecrate the names of the founders of our democracy in this way will always unnerve me. The answer to your question is simple. These murderers will double in numbers if we reveal ourselves.”

The clip ended.

“Ugh, how can such a well-comported person be so crude. Did you hear how he just said 'humans'?” Lily shook her head, disapproval deepening her frown. “I don’t know why witches keep him in their circles.”

“Because he fear-mongers the same way your mom’s base does,” Marcel replied, taking his phone back. In an instant, he lived to regret it. A small fog began to radiate off of him. Marcel’s face was drenched in droplets of water in the next blink of the eye. He looked like he’d ran up ten flights of stairs - which Marcel could never, and would never, do.

Lily smiled over his complaints.

I smacked my lips. There was nothing to say, honestly. Cathrow wasn’t singular in his thinking. Many other sorcerers refused to bring up the idea in their houses and at their dinner tables. The conversation always revolved on whether Full-humans were capable enough to overlook our differences and give us room in their world. Vampires and werewolves were usually on the other side of the argument from Sorcerers and Witches.

It was strange. You’d think the side whose most prone to unholy depictions in media and mythology would want nothing to do with Full-humans. But the problem went deeper than that. We wanted to be recognized as more than the myth, a chance at showing people how unextraordinary we were.

Lily nudged my computer. She said, eyes inquisitive, “Your dad better announce his platform for this bill pronto or he’s going to fall behind. When are you heading out?”

“Soon. For now, I better focus on my day classes. I'm falling behind myself.”

And that’s what I did after about an hour of hanging out with my friends. Marcel eventually returned to his dorm for a change of clothes, and Lily promised to meet me later at my dad’s place.

My thoughts kept circling on Cathrow’s display of animosity towards the Avowal bill. Realistically, he had no sway over the Vampiric people or the Wolven union, but he was the manifestation of the kind of backlash my dad could receive. Didn’t seem too bad, although it wasn’t all good either.

At the end of the day, my dad would be fine. At least, I thought so.

“Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.”

“Would you shut up? It’s only a couple of people. It looks like your dad is hosting a get together not a press conference,” Lily said.

“Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.”

“Yandel.”

I stopped walking, swallowing saliva on this suburban sidewalk. There were unfamiliar cars in our driveway and nowhere to park, which is why I had to borrow a curbside at another street. While I had expected some attention, I didn’t believe our house would be the epicenter of anything that went on with my dad’s bill.

“Lily?”

“What?” She asked.

“Crap,” I said. She slapped my elbow.