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 posters. 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, Kat ya.
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.
“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.
“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.’ ”
Elise glued a picture of chocolate chip cookies onto her poster. “Better learn how to say, ‘no, you can’t borrow my clothes.’”
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 election 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 apologetically, “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, although 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 instead of me.” 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; one of those stiff, uncomfortable smiles. “Sorry, we already told Amy we’d help her out if she ran.”
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. 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.
I couldn't help but stare at him. Not only was he handsome, he had nearly black hair and blue eyes, a combination that almost required you to gaze at him.
Elise noticed my stare, so I said, “That’s a good picture of Josh. 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.”