Some sense of justice points my feet to walk in the direction of Mr. Wright’s office after lunch the next day. I ask his secretary if I can see him and he comes out and ushers me in.
“Gia,” he says, “What can I do for you?”
“It’s about the election.”
Mr. Wright immediately looks concerned. “What about it?”
“I don’t think that Brandy really won.”
He closes his eyes momentarily. “Gia, this isn’t the first time we’ve had an election at Morgan.”
“I know but—”
“And it’s not the first time that a candidate lost and wasn’t happy about it.”
I shift in my seat. “I—”
“You what?”
“It’s not that.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Not what?”
“I’d just like a recount.”
“On what basis?”
“Something I heard.”
“What did you hear?”
“Something Georgina said, ‘We fixed her.’”
“Implying?”
I sit up taller. “Mr. Wright…I think the election was fixed.”
He stares at me for a long, uncomfortable minute then shifts his gaze and stares out the window as if he’s looking for outside guidance. Abruptly he turns back to me.
“The Morgan School would not tolerate any discrepancies between the way the students voted and the way the election turned out, so I will consider what you’ve told me. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourself until I get back to you.”
So natch I spill to Ro and Clive, who are sworn to secrecy, and we try to put it out of our minds and hang out in Central Park after school, playing on the swings and working out at Clive’s gym and walking a gazillion miles on the treadmills before going downstairs to Whole Foods and looking at weird stuff like mung beans and sea beans and tikka masala sauce and having foodgasms after pigging out on bittersweet chocolate and pumpkin tofu cheesecake, which sounds healthier than real cheesy cheesecake and then just waiting, waiting, waiting until we get some final word.