No one paid attention to issues. I shrugged. "I'll probably stress school unity."
Mom made a low hmmm sound as she refolded the dough, which meant she didn't like school unity as an issue and was about to launch into a speech about politics, campaigning, or the Constitution. Maybe all three.
Or perhaps she was about to ask me to get the goose neck out of the refrigerator.
I tucked the rest of my bagel into my pocket, said, "Well, I'd better start on my homework," and retreated from the kitchen as quickly as I could.
• • •
The next day as I headed to my first-period art class, I decided to start recruiting for my campaign. Particularly I wanted to recruit Cassidy Woodruff. She hung around with the honors crowd, and I needed an in with that group. I was sure the smart kids actually voted.
Cassidy lived down the street from me, and we'd played together a lot when we were little. We grew apart as we got older, and then last year we'd had a major falling out.
It seems whenever I fight with someone, it's over guys, and this was no exception. When Elise Benson first moved to Pullman at the beginning of our sophomore year, Cassidy and I both competed for her older brother, Josh.
And Cassidy won.
It didn't matter that Cassidy went out of her way to be nice to me afterward or even that she wrote me a note telling me she wanted us to be friends. It still had bothered me every time I saw Cassidy and Josh hanging out together at school. Every time I walked by them, I felt like Cassidy was thinking, I'm better than Samantha. That's why she didn't get Josh. She's just second-best.
It was a relief when Josh graduated, went to college, and I didn't have to see the two of them everywhere I went.
I strolled into the art room and picked up my half-finished collage from the storage room. Cassidy and Elise already sat at their usual table in the corner, collages, pictures, and words cut from magazine articles spread out in front of them.
You wouldn't have thought Cassidy and Elise would even get along, let alone be best friends, but they were. Elise was— well—Elise, and Cassidy was completely wholesome and sweet. If the school yearbook had a category for it, I'm sure Cassidy would be voted the girl most likely to have her likeness stamped on apple-pie boxes. She was cheerful, friendly, and pretty enough that Josh chose her instead of me.
I had to stop thinking about that.
I walked over to Elise and Cassidy's table, clutching my pictures and scraps of magazines so they didn't fall to the floor. Despite all of last year's history, I had a good chance of getting Cassidy to work on my team. She was too nice to turn anyone down. And after the Josh incident I figured she owed me one.
I dropped my stuff onto the table, smiled, and said hello. Cassidy gave me a sort of startled hello back, and Elise just eyed me suspiciously—something which I thought was totally uncalled for, since I do occasionally talk to them.
I sat down anyway. No one said anything to me, so I silently arranged cheerleading stickers on my paper. We were supposed to create a collage that embodied the "essence of our life." None of us were quite sure what that meant, so we were all just pasting pictures of ourselves and things we liked onto our poster boards. Elise had added the words HOT 'N' SPICY on one corner of her collage and SUPER FLIRT on another. Typical Elise. Her pictures were all ones of herself, but almost all of Cassidy s pictures were of her new little sister, Katya.
Cassidy had been an only child until four months ago, when her family adopted a two-year-old girl from a Russian orphanage. Cassidy's mom had worn a permanent beam since they adopted Katya, and Cassidy seemed almost as beamy, so I knew what to say to her to break the ice. I cleared my throat and said, "How's your little sister these days?"
Cassidy centered a picture of Katya in bright pink pajamas on her collage. "She's doing really well. I mean, she still has her hard moments, but I think for the most part she's adjusting to American life."
Elise didn't look up from her paper. "I hate to tell you this, but those 'hard moments' have nothing to do with being an American. She's just two years old. If you think it's bad now, you're in for a surprise."
"She's really sweet most of the time," Cassidy said.
"Just wait until she finds out where you keep your makeup," Elise said.
The ice was broken, but the conversation went on about Katya.
"I'm learning lots of Russian phrases," Cassidy said. "I already know how to say, 'don't throw that,' 'come back here,' and 'please stop crying, I'll give you whatever you want.' "
"Better learn how to say, 'no, you can't borrow my clothes,'" Elise said.
I had no idea how to steer the conversation to the school election. Finally I decided for the direct approach. During the next pause in the conversation I said, "You guys have done really well on your collages. I bet you would do a great job making posters."
Both girls looked at me with puzzled expressions.
"I need to be on the lookout for people to make posters for me because I'm running for school president." I waited a moment for this information to sink in, then smiled over at them. "How about it? I'd really appreciate it if you guys worked on my campaign."
"That's really nice of you to ask us," Cassidy said, "but you know our friend Amy Stock? She told us she might run, so we'll probably help her."
"Amy Stock?" I had known I would have competition in my bid for the presidency, but this was the first time I'd heard who. It could have been worse. Amy was the kind of girl who was friendly to everyone, but not highly popular. She wore wire-rim glasses, nondescript clothing, and an air of continual seriousness. She was smart—the type of person who teachers love to have in their class, but not necessarily the type of person who students want as their president. So I didn't panic about this news, and I didn't want to just hand over Cassidy and Elise to her side.
"Oh, come on, you guys don't really want to campaign for Amy." I turned to Cassidy, tapping my glue bottle against the table at each point I made. "Think of all we've been through together. Making snow forts, learning to roller-skate, Mr. Swenson's seventh-grade lit class. You know me much better."
Cassidy smiled at me, but it was one of those stiff, forced smiles. "Sorry, we already told Amy we'd help her out."
So much for all those things she said to me last year about wanting to be friends. I was just second-best again. I shrugged. "That's okay." Then I picked up my scissors and viciously slashed off the corners of my next picture.
Elise and Cassidy exchanged an uncomfortable glance, then went back to their collages.
I pounded a picture of my family onto one corner of my poster board. I was not going to fume. When one runs into a roadblock, one must simply look beyond it. And that's what I was going to do. I'd be nice and gracious and hope that when Cassidy and Elise were out campaigning for Amy, one or both of them would be struck mute.
Elise glued a picture of Josh with the rest of the family onto her poster board. It seemed to be a recent photo, perhaps taken right before he left Pullman.
"That's a good picture of Josh," I said. "How's he doing in college?"
"Really well."
I glanced over at Cassidy with a forced smile. "It must be hard not having him around all of the time."
Cassidy didn't look up at me. In fact, she looked quite determinedly at the Milky Way wrapper she glued next to the word CHOCOHOLIC In an even voice she said, "Josh and I broke up."
"You broke up?" I wasn't trying to rub it in, I was genuinely surprised.
"They didn't break up," Elise said. "They just put their relationship on hold."
"We broke up," Cassidy said.
Elise rolled her eyes and sighed. Apparently they'd disagreed on this subject before. "He never said he wanted to break up with you."
"He said he thought we should date other people. That's the same thing."
"No, it's not, because he only said that so you wouldn't feel like you had to wait around for him while he's at college."
"Well, it would be a very cons
iderate sentiment from Josh if it didn't also involve him dating half a dozen different girls."
"Because he couldn't be dating you. And besides, he's just friends with all those girls."
Cassidy put a blob of glue on her paper and then smacked a large picture of a book onto her collage. "You, of all people, shouldn't be so naive."
"Well, at least talk to him," Elise said. "He'll be home any day now, and none of those girls from college are coming with him."
I tried not to sound eager. "He'll be back soon? Why?"
"He finished classes in April. The only reason he's not home now is that he has to fix his car before it can make the drive. Josh's going to spend the summer working in my parents' store."
"That's great," I said, "I mean, that's really nice he's coming back to help your parents."
"He needs the money, and besides, I think he wants to be near Cassidy."
Cassidy rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything.
"Well, he could have just as easily gotten a job where he was," Elise told her.
"Except your parents don't own a store where he was," I said. Elise glared at me, but I ignored her and went back to working on my collage.
Josh was coming back for the summer. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, perfect Josh. Okay, he wasn't absolutely perfect. He did have Elise for a sister, but I could overlook this detail. He and Cassidy had broken up, and that meant I had a chance with him, a chance to stop being second-best.
Chapter 5
As I sat down in the cafeteria at lunch I looked at the table where Cassidy and Elise were eating. Amy wasn't even with them. She sat at another table across the room, which just goes to show you what close friends they all were.
I tried not to think about it.
When I was halfway through my tuna-fish sandwich, Doug Campton and his friend Matt stopped by our table. Doug wore an oversized black T-shirt with a pair of baggy jeans. He looked as though he'd combed his hair sometime last week and considered that sufficient effort in the bodily care department. And Matt, well, Matt looked like a less well dressed version of Doug.
Doug stuck his hands in his pockets and tilted back on his heels. "Hey Samantha, I hear you're running for president."
"You heard right."
"Well, I hope you catch him." Both Matt and Doug laughed at this joke.
I continued to smile at them anyway. "You're going to vote for me, aren't you?"
"That depends," Matt said. "Are you going to make it worth our while?"
Suddenly I understood why people talk about politicians having no standards. As I sat there smiling at Doug and Matt, I felt all of my standards fleeing to the lifeboats. I was not only going to have to suffer fools to win this election, I was going to have to actually pretend I liked them.
Still smiling, I said, "I think it will be worth your while to have a student body council that runs smoothly."
"Tell us more about your student body," Doug said. "I'd like to see it run smoothly."
Chelsea put her fork down on the table with a clang. "Would you also like to see her student body slap your student body?"
I laughed as though this was just pleasant banter. After all, I needed all the votes I could get. "It's great that you're interested in student council. I've organized a lot of activities over the years, but I'd really like everybody's input."
"I've got an idea," Matt said. "I think student council should throw free keggers after every game we win."
Doug shook his head. "Naw, our teams are lousy. Better just make it after every home game."
"Uh-huh," I said.
"Well, we'd better go eat lunch now," Doug said. "We just wanted to wish you luck."
"And remember the free keggers," Matt added.
After they left, I shook my head slowly. Suddenly it seemed like this election was going to take a long, long time.
Aubrie watched their retreating backs and in a lowered voice said, "Are those guys idiots, or what?"
I shrugged and took a sip of milk from my carton. "How did you expect them to turn out with names like those? Doug is just one H away from dough, and mat is something you use to wipe the mud off your feet. It's their parents who should be blamed."
Chelsea and Rachel giggled, and Aubrie swallowed a potato chip wrong and started coughing.
I leaned across the table to be closer to my friends. "Logan told me Doug wants to go out with me. What if he finds out Brad and I broke up, and he asks me to the prom?"
"Screen your calls at home," Rachel said. "And avoid him at school."
"He's not afraid to come up and talk to me," I said. "I mean, he just did."
"He wouldn't be so tacky as to ask you to the prom in front of all your friends, though," Aubrie said.
We simply stared at her for a moment, and then I said, "We're talking about Doug Campton. Tacky is part of his genetic code."
Rachel looked over at Aubrie. "The next time he comes up to us, you cause a diversion before he can talk to Samantha. Pretend to die or something."
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. "That will only work once. I just have to find another date for the prom. Fast."
I took a glance around the cafeteria. There had to be somebody decent who would like to ask me out.
Please let there be somebody.
When I walked into the bookstore after school, Logan was kneeling by a book display with a picture of a knife above it. He looked up from the mystery novels he was stacking into it and said, "You're early. What's the occasion?"
"I couldn't wait to be with you again, of course. Your charm, wit, and kindness just draw people to you."
He put the last of his books into the display. "Yeah, I know."
It occurred to me that for my campaign's sake I should attempt to be nice to Logan. Logan hung out with the smart crowd too and had a lot of friends who were potential votes. I thought this over while I checked the book cart. Nice was no good. He'd immediately know I was up to something if I was nice to him. Should I just count him as a loss, or should I strike a deal with him? If I agreed to go out with Doug once after the prom, to something really, really noncommittal, then Logan would owe me a large debt of gratitude. Exactly how much campaigning could I extract from a large debt of gratitude? Posters? Buttons? Would he perhaps agree to having VOTE FOR SAMANTHA tattooed on his forehead?
After I'd put away a batch of romances, I went and stood beside him in the western section while he shelved books. I tapped my finger over a group of book spines and waited for him to notice me. When he did, I said, "So . . . how's the world of western novels going?"
Logan raised an eyebrow at me.
"Has Zane Gray come out with anything recently?"
"Zane Gray is dead."
"Really? He sure writes a lot for a dead guy."
Logan pushed the row of books on the shelf closer together to create an opening and then tried to shove a couple of books into the space. He was only half paying attention to me.
"Urn, about Doug . . . ," I said. "I might be willing to do you a favor, if you do one for me first."
Logan let the opening close and smiled. "What kind of favor?"
"I've decided to run for student body president, and I'm going to need people to help me with my campaign—"
I didn't get any further before Logan's smile turned into coughs of laughter. I glared at him while I waited for him to stop. "You could have just said no."
"It's not that I don't want to help you," he said, after more coughing. "It's just the idea of you campaigning is so funny."
"You don't think I can campaign?"
"To campaign, you have to talk to people outside your clique."
I folded my arms tightly across my chest. "I know how to be friendly."
Logan leaned toward me, using his height to make a point of looking down at me. "Samantha, you can't walk into a room of six people without insulting five of them."
"Forget I ever asked you anything. I hope you and Veronica both live long, lonely lives, and die sin
gle." I turned and walked back to the book cart with fast, long strides. Logan followed me.
"I didn't say I wouldn't campaign for you."
"And what a fine campaigner you'd be. I can just imagine your posters. VOTE FOR SAMANTHA, SHE'S SHALLOW AND INSULTING, BUT AN INTEGRAL PART OF GETTING ME A DATE. Just forget it, Logan."
I tried to take a book from the cart, but Logan held on to one end of it and wouldn't let go. He looked as though he might laugh again but was trying hard to suppress the emotion. "I'm sorry, but you have to admit it. Insulting people is your favorite pastime."
"No, it isn't." I yanked the book from his hand. "It only seems that way to you because you're so easy to insult."
"I wasn't even counting the times you insult me. If I counted those, you'd be in the Olympic insulting category."
"Logan, you're delusional." I stopped momentarily and held up my hands in mock horror. "I suppose now I've won the gold medal, haven't I?" Without waiting for his response, I picked up my books and headed to general fiction. Logan followed me. When we got there, he put one hand on the bookshelf, making it hard to ignore him. I tried anyway.
"All right," he said, "you don't agree with me. Fine. Let's see if you'll put your money where your caustic little mouth is."
"Was that an insult?" I handed him half of my books to hold while I tried to jimmy the rest onto the shelf.
"Let's make a bet of it then. I bet you can't make it through the next week without insulting someone. If I win, you'll have to go out on a date with Doug."
"And if I win?"
"Then I'll take you out on a date."
I took the rest of the books from his hands and gave him a patronizing stare. "That's supposed to be some big reward for me?"