RORY

"Lorelai Leigh Gilmore reporting live from Des Moines International Airport," I say into my cell phone as I stroll off the jetway, my messenger bag swinging by my side as my ears slowly readjust to the low altitude.

"How was the flight Ace?" Logan asks from the other line.

"I can't complain, a little turbulence but I did get through a good chunk of Anna Karenina and got myself up to speed on Obama's policy proposals and possible scandals."

"Nothing like a little light Tolstoy to pass the time," He says with a laugh. I can almost see the smirk on his face, his eyes squinting up the way that they do when he smiles.

"You know how I love my Russian literature," I reply with a smile.

"I do indeed," He tells me. "So where are you headed now?"

"The bus is stopped at a hotel just outside the city, so I'm meeting up with the press pool there and I'll board the bus tomorrow morning and have my first day as a real-life adult reporter. I'm wearing that grey suit with the flippy skirt and I'm going to get my press badge, Logan it's going to be so official!"

"Well, you are a real-life adult reporter," He teases me with a light laugh.

"Don't mock me," I reply with a frown as I make my way down the busy airport terminal.

"I wouldn't dream of it Ace." He tells me. "Listen, I have to hop on a call, but text me when you get to the hotel. Call your mom, she's been texting me and asking for hourly updates."

"I'll call her from the cab," I assure him.

"Okay bye," He replies. "Love you,"

"Love you too," I say, shoving my cell phone into my bag and forging my way into the adult world. After slight directional challenges, I figured my out of the airport and was met with a gorgeous sunset. Following more struggles hailing a cab, I finally found myself headed towards my destination and dialing my mother's number in the back seat.

"Hey, sweets!" She says energetically on the other end of the line, "Has my California girl finally landed in the Midwest, land of corn and you know, more corn."

"Well, I haven't technically left the airport concourse, so no corn yet, but yes I am on the ground in Iowa."

"Bummer!" She replies, "I totally imagined the plane literally landing in a cornfield, one a small strip of asphalt."

"You've never been to Des Moines have you?" I say with a smile.

"Never in my life," She says with a giggle.

"Alright, I want to do some more studying on Obama's policies on my way to the hotel, but I'll call you once I get settled."

"Have you memorized all his plans?" She teases.

"75%," I reply sheepishly, "Almost there,"

"Aw I love my little circus freak," She tells me with a laugh.

"Bye Mom," I say with a roll of my blue eyes.

"Bye loin fruit," She finishes, with a definite pep in her step. I sigh as she hangs up and tuck my cell into my messenger back and delve back into the pile of papers sitting in the front pocket.

"Hi there," I say, dragging my bags up to the check-in counter of the Holiday Inn, nestled in some Iowa town that I've never heard of. "I'm checking in,"

"What's the name?" The young woman asks me, her eyes barely looking up from the computer.

"Um Rory Gilmore," I reply, unsure of myself for some reason.

"Can I see some ID?" She asks.

"Of course," I tell her, nervously fumbling with my wallet before sliding my ID across the counter.

"Great," She says, "Here's your room key and the communications director for the campaign left this for you,"

"Thanks," I say, pulling the room key and the manila envelope from across the counter, tucking my ID back into my wallet. I feel a flutter of excitement as I read my name and the website that I'm working for printed on the envelope, knowing that it probably contains my press credentials. With a newfound sense of confidence, I make my way up to my hotel room and try to prepare myself for my first day on the job.

As I walk up towards the bus, every piece of information I could find on Senator Barack Obama fresh in my mind, my mother's words from our last interaction fresh in my mind. I plan to make a beeline for the back of the bus once I get on board, but not close enough to the bathroom to be constantly inhaling that disgusting pee smell.

I've been so excited and anxious all morning, it's like the first day of school with way more pressure. Headmaster Charleston couldn't fire me from school, well, he could have, but I think I would have to try a lot harder to get that doesn't help that I'm joining the bus a couple of weeks late, infringing on the territory that these guys have already set up. I got up two hours before my alarm and fiddled with my hair before swapping between three different suits before finally settling on the phone that I had picked out a week ago. I chatted with Logan and then Lane on the phone during my breakfast of sad, boring oatmeal and his words of encouragement had me feeling ready for my first day.

After stowing my bag under the bus, I hustle down the aisle, my trusty messenger bag banging against the seats, carpeted in a blue material that resembles the floor of a roller rink. Finally, I settle about five seats in front of the bathroom, patiently waiting with my hands folded in my lap. I'm definitely the newest reporter on the bus, only two weeks out of undergrad, and I'm kind of waiting for someone else to take the lead. I try smiling up at people as they pass by me, but they're all buried in their Blackberrys. I'm incredibly paranoid that I've stolen someone's seat and they're now holding a massive grudge against me, but no one seems to be saying anything. Eventually, a wave of relief comes over me as a woman with shoulder-length red hair and hazel eyes, probably in her early 30's, settles across the aisle and shoots me a smile.

"Hey there," She says, offering a handshake between a wave of people. "I'm Avery Camden, Chicago Sun," Even on a random bus in the middle of Iowa very early in the morning, she looks perfect. There's not a hair out of place on her head, not a blemish on her skin, or a wrinkle in her clothes.

"Lorelai Gilmore," I reply nervously, returning the handshake, "but everyone calls me Rory, I mean I'll answer to both and I haven't really closed what I'm writing under, but Rory is fine."

"Who are you working for?" She asks.

"The Public," I reply, slightly embarrassed by my nervous rambling.

"That's that new website over in San Francisco right?" She asks, "I've some of their stuff, it's really good, especially for just popping up on the scene,"

"I agree," I say with a grin, "They literally just hired and this is my first assignment for them, fresh out of undergrad," Avery's kind and talkative nature is more than welcome after the lackluster response I've gotten from everyone else. I think we could definitely get along.

"This is quite a way to enter the adult world," She jokes. "I spent a year job hunting from my mom's couch after I graduated,"

"That was almost me," I tell her, "I was thrilled to land this job, even if I feel like I'm betraying my inner being by going digital,"

"Hey, new media is an exciting front these days!" She assures me. "And almost every major paper has some sort of online presence these days."

"That is true," I reply.

"Oh hold on," She says as a guy in a blue suit, maybe in his early 30s, boards the front of the bus. His presence is intimidating, but there's a kindness in his eyes. "That's Matt Perez, he's Obama's communications director and our liaison with the campaign."

"Alright everybody," He announces to all of us, "we've got a busy day today, the Senator will be speaking at Grinnell College, then we'll be on our way to Cedar Rapids for a town hall at Kennedy High School, before driving to Independence for a stop at the Buchanan County Fair."

"What can we expect the candidate to discuss today at Grinnell?" I hear as a hand goes up at the front of the bus.

"The Senator will be focusing on his plan to pull troops out of Iraq, and then he will take five questions from the audience." He responds. "We have to get moving, so if you have any questions, you have my email." I make a mental note to ask Avery for that contact info as soon as we start driving. "Oh, and we have a new reporter on the bus, Lorelai Gilmore. She'll be writing for the new Hearst website The Public." I give a small wave as my face blushes up, people turning to look at me. "Alright," He finishes, "I'll see you all in about an hour at Grinnell."

"Sorry," Avery tells me, "I probably should have warned you about that, he does it every time someone new joins the bus."

"I blush easy," I inform her, "But it was kind of nice." Avery and I quietly chatted for the next hour as we made our way west to Grinnell College, and I felt an instant kinship with her. I learned that she grew up in Santa Barbara and went to school at USC and started working at the Sun four years ago. She lives on the north side of Chicago with her husband Josh, who teaches American history at a private high school. I told her about my childhood, growing up in Stars Hollow and she laughed at the crazy antics of my lovely neighbors, telling me that I should write a novel about the town and that people probably wouldn't believe that it wasn't fiction. I told her that I was engaged to a guy named Logan, but I was careful to not reveal his last name. It's not that I want to hide him, but I don't want anyone to think that I didn't earn my way here and that it was the Huntzberger name rather than my merit that got me here. I'll tell her eventually, I'm just not ready yet.

I cannot remember the last time that I was this tired. All-day, it was go, go, go and I was lucky to have time to get a bite of the protein bar that Logan tucked into my bag before I left. At the campaign stops, we would stand in the back behind the constituents in the sticky Iowa heat, with a recording device running and my hand rapidly taking notes on a yellow legal pad. In between stops, the casual nature of my morning conversation was gone as everyone buried their heads in their laptops writing articles to send home to their papers. I was immediately dialed in, with my notes resting on one seat, the recording of the speech playing in my ears through headphones, and my laptop perched on my lap, my fingers flying across the keyboard. This is my happy place, and though I may not know how to work on a campaign, I know how to write, this I can do. I've met a ton of people today, from constituents giving quotes about the candidate, and I've gotten to chat with a bunch of reporters on the bus and they've all been welcoming to me. But as we pull up to get another Holiday Inn, all I want to do is get my hotel key, email everything back to San Francisco, take a very long shower to wash the grime of the bus off me, and then crawl into bed and sleep for a very long time.

"Hey Rory," Avery says to me from her spot behind me in the check-in line, "Katie and I are meeting in the hotel gym tomorrow at 6 to work out, do you want to join us? It's a great stress reliever." My immediate response is absolutely not. For heaven's sake, it's a key piece of the Gilmore code that we don't exercise, or god forbid run. And 6 AM is so early! But this seems like a good way to bond with Avery and whoever this Katie person is and I need friends on the trail. So just this once.

"Sure," I say with a smile, thanking my lucky stars that I took Logan's advice and packed a pair of sneakers, leggings, and a tank top.

"Great!" She says with a smile. "See you then!" I know I'm probably going to regret this tomorrow morning when my alarm goes off at 5:45, but right now it seems like a good idea.

"You? Rory Gilmore, are working out tomorrow morning?" Logan says with a chuckle as I inform him of my plans for tomorrow morning. Just as I crawled into bed, my phone rang and his name lit up on the screen and I was so thankful for a chance to talk to him after this crazy day.

"I know, please don't tell my mother, it's a striking violation of my Gilmore code," I tell him, only half-joking.

"Why did you agree to this?" He asks. "In the many years I've known you, I've only seen you enter a gym once, and then you spent most of the time drinking cucumber water."

"I'm being friendly!" I insist. "I need friends out here if I'm going to last, and Avery asked me to go, so I'm going."

"Who's Avery?" He asks.

"She's the reporter that I sat with on the bus today. She's amazing, she really seems to have everything together and she's really the only person that I clicked with today! She worked for the Chicago Sun and she's like what I want to be when I grow up."

"Well that's awesome, I'm glad you're meeting people." He replies. "But can I tell you something Ace?"

"Anything but the plot of Toy Story," I joke.

"You said you want to be here when you grow up, but you are her Ace! You're living your dream and I am so damn proud of you."

"Ah I knew there was a reason I agreed to marry you," I say with a smile. "But I guess I am. I am exactly where I want to be."

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Don't forget to leave a review!

xoxo,

Addie