A MATTER OF THE “HART”
Lacey
I fixed my skirt again and cleared my throat as I waited in the hallway.
I’d done presentations at school, but never something like this.
The boardroom wasn’t packed, there weren’t dozens of people, but the importance of this pitch felt like I was delivering a presidential address. In that room was Mr. La Croix and the main team, eight people all waiting for me to present the bugs in a way that would appeal to the masses.
“Hey,” Hennie whispered from down the hall, interrupting my poor mental warm-up. “I came to wish you good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll watch from here. You got this.” She smiled wide.
“I got this,” I whispered back, noting a bit of sweat on my upper lip.
“We’re ready for you.” One of the ladies from the team had opened the door and spoken softly. She winked at me, like she was wishing me good luck.
“You got this,” Hennie repeated as I disappeared into the boardroom.
“Good morning.” I smiled at everyone.
“Good morning, kiddo.” Mr. La Croix beamed with pride. That made all of this more nerve-racking.
“All right, well, I’ll get to it. As we all know, these bars are made with a prebiotic fiber, which is good for healthy stomachs, bowels, and colons. And the fat from the crickets is actually good for you, too, weirdly enough. The protein is high quality. So the food source is one of the best in the world for the world. It even comes with the added benefit of spermidine, which is great for anti-aging. As a result of all this awesome information, I have truly been convinced that these bars benefit not only our bodies but the world around us.
“But to convince people to eat bugs, I knew we would need to go outside the box. And ultimately, I decided not to go for the weight-loss benefits. There’s enough fad food out there already. Instead, there is one thing this generation thinks about a lot, most likely thanks to Leonardo DiCaprio: the environment. Concern about the earth and our chances of surviving the waste and pillage of the planet after the industrial revolution and the tech era actually plagues most people my age. They worry a lot about the world they’re inheriting.
“And the one thing these bars do that no other protein source in the world does is hit hard on the water usage farmers require in comparison to cattle or chicken farming. Even the plant-based proteins can’t compete with crickets. They can be grown and harvested all year long, requiring far less from the world and giving back more than any other type of food. Farming them creates very little waste, so the footprint of these farms is almost nonexistent. If you will draw your eyes here, I have made a brief advertorial.” I clicked the TV on and pressed “Play.”
As the ad started, my recorded voice went on about how little water, land, and resources cricket farming required as images of third-world countries played in the background, with facts toward solving the food crisis. Mr. La Croix caught my eye and nodded.
The commercial ended with the symbol of a heart. I stood again.
“And this is the symbol we would go for. We buy land and build cricket farms called Hart Farms. From those farms, we will produce the Hart Bars. Hart because cricket protein will become the beating heart of efforts to end the world’s food and resource crisis. Not to mention the positive effects this would have on the earth as we slowed our cattle, soy, and pork farming, making those foods gourmet, if you will. Farmers would be able to switch to cricket farming, and their overhead would virtually diminish. As the world is being saved one Hart Bar at a time, the educated and earth conscious will feel confident about supporting this product. It’s common sense. From a universal ‘hartbeat.’”
I finished and held my breath as they all sat there, staring.
After several moments, Mr. La Croix made the face, the one I was waiting for. He smiled and nodded. “Excellent research, Lacey. And the environmental focus will hit this one home. Well done. Hart Bars. I love it.”
Everyone else started to clap.
For the first time in a week, I sighed, knowing that I had done one thing with my own “hart” and integrity intact. “Thank you.”
“Excellent work, kid.” He turned to the rest of the team as I hurried from the room. My palms were sweating, and my makeup was melting down my face.
“You did great!” Hennie squealed and hugged me.
“One hurdle over.” I couldn’t deny feeling relieved on a level I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before, but it didn’t last. The next hurdle of the day was fast approaching.
“Time to see what kind of shape Martin’s in before his surgery.” Hennie’s joyful expression faded. “You ready to go?” she asked.
“Yeah, lemme just grab my bag.” I hurried to my office and grabbed my purse and phone.
We didn’t talk much on the way to the hospital. Neither of us was very excited about this next part.
I was a bit lost in contemplation, replaying the presentation over and over until I was sure it had gone as well as everyone else had claimed it had. Self-doubt wasn’t normally an issue for me when it came to something like product marketing—that was almost second nature—but this had been a test.
I saw it the moment I succeeded in Mr. La Croix’s eyes.
And the second he’d given me that look, that one that solved a thousand problems and eased most of my heartaches, I knew at least one major thing was off my plate.
Hennie had been right; he was watching me. He was setting me up to take over.
My money troubles were one summer away from being over, and now that I’d nailed that, maybe I could talk to him about working the year and then finishing school. It suddenly didn’t seem so disappointing to be doing things out of order.
Maybe it was Martin’s cancer.
Maybe it was stooping so low as the Test Dummy.
Maybe it was feeling torn about a person I didn’t want to like.
Maybe it was having nearly been raped.
Whatever it was, perspective had hit this week, like a train.
Martin was next, and after his procedure was finished, I would have to start making some major decisions about the Test Dummy and where I saw it going.
“So, Martin wasn’t sure what was happening today. He said it was going to be a minor surgery, but he didn’t know anything else.” Hennie’s worried tone picked at my worried bones as we hurried into the hospital.
“The doctor said he was going in to explore, and if the lump was really small, he’d remove it. We’ll find out when we get there, I guess.” I tried not to be a negative Nancy as we climbed the stairs to the floor my grandma and my dad and Martin were on. We found them talking to someone who appeared to be a doctor.
Martin gave Hennie the look, the one that suggested she was the only person he was waiting for.
Grandma smiled, Dad waved but continued listening to the doctor, and Martin ignored my existence. All he saw was Hennie—the girl I’d personally delivered to him. I nearly rolled my eyes.
As the doctor left, Grandma got up from her chair and hugged me. “How was the presentation?”
“Oh, fine.”
“Better than fine. She nailed it!” Hennie beamed with pride.
“How’s it going here?” I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Fine. Mom texted, all upset; she couldn’t leave work on time to be here. There was a massive accident, and the ER got hit with injured people. So of course she’s freaking out. Prepare for those phone calls until she can get here.” Martin shrugged. “And I go into the prep area in, like, five minutes. They’ll do a bunch of things to inspect me and make me feel like an alien—blah, blah, blah—and then they slice me open and haul that dirty little bastard out.”
“Well, that’s not exactly what the doctor said.” Grandma furrowed her brow. “But close.” She smiled at me. “That was nice of Mr. La Croix to let you girls leave early.”
“Well.” I glanced at Hennie, wrinkling my nose. We hadn’t told him what we were doing, just that we needed the time off. “He’s flexible.”
“Very.” Hennie nodded.
I hadn’t wanted anyone at work to know Martin was having surgery. Mr. La Croix would have taken my project away, thinking I was already stressed enough, and given it to someone else. And I couldn’t afford that. I had told Marcia, but had asked her not to tell her dad. I was almost shocked that she’d kept that promise.
“Mr. Winters?” a lady called from down the hall.
Dad turned. “Yes?”
“We’re ready to take you to the presurgery room.” She smiled.
“Wrong Mr. Winters.” Martin laughed and hugged us all. “I’ll be right back.” He winked, giving Hennie the longest hug.
We all looked the same, worried faces with fake smiles.
“He’ll be fine. At least he won’t be able to talk when this is over. That’ll be a nice change,” I joked, fighting the worry I was feeling.
He laughed, and that was how he started the journey to his surgery, laughing.
I loved my brother so much.