Democrats Registering In Record Numbers

"Damn it, man. I want to vote," he said. "There's no money, no jobs, and I want to feel like my vote is counting for something.

"I want them to answer me, 'What happened to the middle class?' You got rich, you got poor, and everybody is going in one of those directions."

Lately, Robertson has been sliding ever closer to broke. Since he moved in with Fowler, he has supported a household of six, including his 2-year-old son; Fowler's 10- and 8-year-old daughters from a previous relationship; and a baby they share. A few months ago, Robertson paid $632 -- a solid two weeks' wages -- to have the baby circumcised.

Medical bills have devastated their bank account, because Robertson and Fowler lack health insurance. Last year, Robertson's hand was caught in machinery at work, slicing his right index finger to the bone. His trip to the emergency room resulted in nine stitches, and he has been paying for them ever since. Three hundred dollars for anesthesia. Nine hundred for an X-ray. Six hundred for stitches.

Robertson considered asking his boss for help with the medical bills, but the company doesn't offer insurance, and he needs the job.

That is why, on the day he registered to vote, Robertson dropped off the form Fowler had given him a few days earlier and turned right back around, headed for work.

Her Dream, Too

Kyla White, 18, had planned to go straight to the voting office after seventh period at Enloe High School, but now she wondered if she would ever make it there. With 10 minutes left before the final bell, her teacher had just locked the door and called a Code Red, signaling imminent danger on school grounds. As instructed, White moved away from the window, hunched under her desk and tucked her head to her knees.

For 15 minutes, she listened for gunshots.

It turned out to be a false alarm caused by a suspended student on school grounds -- just like the Code Yellow earlier in the afternoon and the morning bomb scare that forced all 2,400 students to evacuate to the football field. At the end of the school day, as White walked to her 1997 Honda with classmate Janay Lovelace, the two friends agreed: They would still drive downtown to register.

"We've got to," White said. "Life just isn't supposed to be like this."

As a senior in high school, White spent most of her time waiting on forces beyond her control. College applications, curfews, Code Reds -- she had no choice but to wait them out and hope for the best. On her Facebook profile page, she displayed a countdown to the landmarks of empowerment. Graduation: 63 days. Move in at North Carolina State: 126 days.

Voting: 25 days.