Then she asked a question that embarrassed her. Do you know how many other students transfer here? Mrs. Gardner shook her head.
I can tell you what I see on Tuesday. I can't count the whole city. Naomi laughed softly. It was the best lesson she received that day.
The people she hoped to defend were not obliged to supply neat statistics for her convenience. As they crossed back to the diner, a nearly empty bus passed on its way to the garage. Naomi noticed two possibilities at once. It might be a waste to run that route at that hour.
It might also be the only safe way for a handful of children to get home. A good debate would not pretend the choice was easy. A good policy would make the choice visible and accountable before someone made it for them. On the ride back to the tournament hotel, Bell asked each student to propose a counter example that could defeat Naomi's claim.
Imani chose a route with only one child using a discounted pass, a service that might be better provided by a smaller school vehicle. Naomi agreed. The argument was not that a full count would always save a large bus. It was that the city should know the actual use and the safer alternatives before deciding.
Bell chose a second case, a route with high full fare boardings but poor service to schoolchildren. Naomi realized that a big number could be as misleading as a small one if the policy question concerned a different group. They were not only criticizing missing entries, they were criticizing the habit of letting one convenient figure stand for a whole public need. Imani looked out at a stretch of apartment blocks where narrow paths led toward a distant main road.
She had been the team researcher for so long that people sometimes spoke as though she worked behind the scenes because she lacked the courage to compete. She admitted that she liked asking questions more than delivering finished answers to a crowd. Naomi asked whether that made her feel overlooked. Sometimes, Imani said, but I chose this job.
What I don't choose is having the work treated like it appeared by magic when somebody else speaks well. Naomi promised to name her contribution when it mattered. It was not a sentimental vow between friends. It was another way of keeping a record accurate.
At the hotel conference table, Imani tore an empty cardboard food sleeve open and flattened it. We need to stop worshipping the pages, she said. Naomi almost objected to the word, then found herself smiling. Imani drew three boxes with a borrowed marker, claim, limit, choice.
Under claim, she wrote the sentence about the apparently empty bus. Under limit, she copied the exact public footnote. Under choice, she left a wide space. Because the alternative is where they'll press us, she said.
Bell arrived with the updated Sunday schedule. Naomi and Graham had both advanced, and the bracket placed them on opposite sides of the semifinals. If each one wants more, they would meet in the championship. The idea had been theoretical all day.
Now it was printed beside their names on ordinary office paper. Naomi considered reporting the latest confrontation to crews and going to bed. She could also spend the night preparing an argument that would survive being challenged by someone who knew the rules of persuasion as well as she did. Both, Bell said when Naomi explained the choice.
A fair complaint and a good debate are not competing loyalties. Don't make yourself choose between being protected and being prepared. Naomi copied the three boxes onto her fresh pad. She could not know what Graham would say on Sunday or whether the tournament would resolve Saturday's harm.
She only knew the promise she had made beside the registration desk. She would not abandon the truth, because it took longer to explain than a cruel little joke. The downtown public library stayed open until eight on Saturdays. A fact Imani had found on a county web page while the others finished dinner.
They entered beneath a mural of the city river. A few people were using the public computers, and a boy in a red sweater was asleep with his forehead on an algebra workbook. Naomi had visited this building to request the original transit annex three weeks earlier. She could have described the route from the entrance to the municipal document shelves with her eyes closed.
That familiarity made the damage debate notes hurt less. The truth she needed had not vanished with the paper Graham had touched. The librarian at the reference counter recognized her. Back for the buses, she asked.
Naomi smiled. The librarian showed them the archival public copy and its source citation, plus the scan on the city's records portal. Both showed the same limited category definition under the disputed table. Imani checked the pagination against the evidence packet, receipt.
The real pages were less exciting than a dramatic secret file. White paper, black ink, budget figures that required patience. Naomi loved them for that. Their plainness made the source verifiable by anyone, including someone who did not want her argument to be right.
She copied the footnote exactly, then made herself define every word. A boarding was an event, not necessarily a person. A transfer could appear separately, depending on the counting method. Student concession validations were discounted rides, not people sneaking aboard.
The standard full fare column was useful for certain revenue questions. It was not a complete count of passengers. We have to be careful not to imply the city is hiding a whole secret bus fleet. Imani said, we can't add the missing categories and announce a total we don't have.
Naomi wrote a sentence beneath the table. An incomplete count is not evidence of a precise number in either direction. The librarian returned with a scan quality copy and showed the public catalog entry. Naomi thanked her and asked the price for two more copies.
Belle paid for one. Naomi used the coins in her satchel for the other. Belle could have simply bought both. She understood that Naomi wanted a small part of the work to belong to her own hands.
Before leaving, Naomi slid a fresh copy into the satchel pocket where the original dated public copy receipt rested. The two documents now told a simple history of how she found the evidence. There was nothing secret about it, and no reason a competitor should fear it, unless a competitor needed the audience to misunderstand what the table claimed. Rose called as they walked back toward the hotel.