Leo looked at the envelope in his hand. The bills inside were crumpled and worn.
He could feel dozens of pairs of eyes watching him, filled with expectation and trust.
He did not refuse.
He knew this was not merely money.
It was the first contract forged between him and this community.
He solemnly accepted the envelope.
“Thank you, everyone,” he said. “I promise you, I will use this money where it is needed most. I will do everything in my power to defend our home.”
Applause broke out from the crowd once again.
Roosevelt’s voice sounded in his mind.
“Very good, my boy. You have exchanged your labor for bread, and your labor is in service of the people. Remember this feeling, and never forget it.”
After the mobilization meeting ended, Leo did not go home right away.
Margaret, George, and several core members of the community asked him to stay behind.
They gathered around a long table and began discussing the concrete steps for what came next.
Leo took out paper and pen. His role had already shifted from listener to organizer.
“First, we need to resubmit the tax exemption application to the city government,” Leo said. “This time, we can’t just submit the application form. We have to attach a detailed legal opinion explaining every legal basis for why we meet the exemption requirements.”
“Second, we need to submit a letter of inquiry to the city council’s oversight committee regarding the legality of this auction procedure. We must openly question why there was only one bidder in this auction, and whether there was any transfer of benefits involved.”
“Finally, for next week’s protest, we can’t just shout slogans. We need to prepare clear pamphlets explaining the whole story, and telling every citizen and reporter who shows up about the relationship between Summit Development Group and Mayor Cartwright.”
Every step he proposed was clear, concrete, reasonable, and well-founded.
The old people listened attentively, nodding again and again.
For the first time, they felt that their protest was no longer just an outburst of emotion, but a battle with strategy and goals.
The meeting went on until late into the night.
By the time Leo dragged his exhausted body back to his apartment, it was already past midnight.
The first thing he did was take a portion of the money out of the envelope.
Early the next morning, he went to pay the rent he had owed for a month.
When the landlord saw that he was paying in cash, the expression on his face softened considerably.
Then Leo went to the supermarket and bought two large bags of food, filling the empty refrigerator.
Bread, milk, eggs, luncheon meat, pasta, and plenty of frozen vegetables.
As he ate a long-lost breakfast, he felt as if he had finally come back to life.
The anxiety of survival had been temporarily suppressed.
At last, he could devote all his energy to the battle ahead.
Over the next few days, Leo practically treated the community center as his home.
During the day, he buried himself in the university’s law library, looking up every statute related to nonprofit taxation and municipal auction procedures.
At night, he returned to the community center and worked with Margaret and the others to organize materials and draft documents.
His legal research abilities and organizational skills made the elderly residents of the community see him in a new light.
They had originally thought he was just a young man who could say a few pretty words.
But what they saw now was a rigorous, focused, tireless fighter.
In the process, Leo also gained the first true allies of his life.
Margaret Davis, the person in charge of the community center, became his guide in this working-class neighborhood.
She had lived here all her life. She knew everyone, and she knew the story of every family.
She took Leo from door to door, introducing him to the neighbors as “the legal adviser we hired ourselves.”
With her endorsement, Leo was quickly accepted by this exclusionary working-class community.
Another important ally came somewhat unexpectedly.
He was the head of the community center, Frank Kowalski, a retired steelworkers’ union leader.
He had a fiery temper and a stubborn personality.
At first, he was full of hostility and suspicion toward Leo.
On the night of the mobilization meeting, he had sat in the farthest corner, watching coldly from the sidelines.
After Leo began organizing the work, Frank came to the community center every day. He did not speak; he only silently watched Leo bustle about.
It was not until the third day, when Leo was arguing with the law library database administrator over the phone until his face flushed red over the details of a legal provision, that Frank took the initiative to speak to him for the first time.
“Kid, you’re not putting on a show,” Frank said in his hoarse voice.
Leo hung up the phone and looked at him.
“I’ve seen too many politicians come here to cheat us out of votes. Their words were sweeter than honey, but all they had in their eyes was their own interest,” Frank said. “But you’re different. There’s fire in your eyes.”
From that day on, Frank became Leo’s staunchest supporter.
He brought in the old brothers he had known from his union days.
Though these retired workers were old, they still retained the organization and discipline of union members.
They became Leo’s most reliable base.
They were responsible for distributing pamphlets, organizing phone mobilization, and contacting every family in the community.
Leo’s third ally represented the power of the younger generation.
Her name was Sarah Jenkins, a sociology student at the University of Pittsburgh and a volunteer at the community center.
She had been quietly helping Margaret with paperwork all along.
Leo’s speech had deeply moved her.
Using the technical skills she was good at, Sarah created a dedicated Facebook page and a Twitter account for the “Defend the Community Center” campaign.
She turned the materials Leo had written exposing the shady dealings into easy-to-understand images and short videos.
She also added subtitles to the video of Leo’s speech and posted it online.
This content began spreading rapidly across Pittsburgh’s local social media.
More and more people began paying attention to the matter.
And so, in a rundown community center, a simple team was miraculously born.
Margaret was responsible for on-the-ground community organizing.
Frank was responsible for mobilizing the core union forces.
Sarah was responsible for online publicity and mobilization.
And Leo was the brain and commander-in-chief of the team.
Roosevelt watched all of this and offered his assessment in Leo’s mind.
“Very good. A decent beginning. You now have a loyal army. They know the terrain and can fight a solid positional battle.”
“But,” his tone shifted, “this is still far from enough.”
“You cannot go from one community to another giving speeches, and you cannot win an election with just one Facebook page.”
“We need a loudspeaker that can let all of Pittsburgh hear your voice.”
“We need support from the air. We need an air force.”