Since my parents are too busy dealing with my brother and whatever he brought back with him, I decide to ask Mr. Walsh his advice about the class president thing. Pros: He’s not just my AP Gov teacher, he’s also my debate coach. Cons: He’s Chris’s teacher and coach, too. But despite that, I feel like I can trust him to give me an honest opinion, and right now that’s what I need.

As soon as I get to school, I go to his classroom, even though I know he’s usually tied up doing prep work for the day. But Farida’s going to ask me for a decision when I see her, and I need to talk it through with someone who knows a thing or two before I make it.

Mr. Walsh is at his desk with a big travel mug of coffee, getting ready for class.

“Morning, Stella,” he says, looking up from his work. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi. Um … I know you’re busy and this probably isn’t a good time, but can I run something by you?”

“Shoot,” he says, and then takes a sip of coffee.

“Farida thinks I should run for class president,” I tell him. “And … I’m not sure if I should do it.”

“Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “So … what are some of the factors in your thinking either for or against?”

“Well, mostly I’ve thought of the reasons against,” I admit. “And those are things like that I’m probably going to lose because I’m not nearly as popular as Chris or Amy. Class elections aren’t about the best candidate, really, are they?”

“I’m not going to lie and say popularity has nothing to do with it,” Mr. Walsh says, rubbing his chin. “But it’s not everything. Running a good campaign could potentially overcome any perceived popularity deficit.”

“Except I don’t know the first thing about running a campaign, so I’m not going to be any good at it,” I say.

“How can you know if you’ll be any good if you don’t even try running?” Mr. Walsh asks.

I don’t really have a good answer for that, so I move on to the other major reason not to run.

“To be honest, Mr. Walsh, there’s something else. Something I haven’t even told my best friends. It’s … about my brother, Rob.”

“Oh? How is Rob? He went into the marines, yes? Was in Afghanistan?”

I nod. “Two tours. It wasn’t so bad after the first one, but since he’s come back this time … well … things can get … stressful at home.”

“When you say stressful, do you ever feel like you’re in danger?” he asks.

The question takes me by surprise.

“Danger? Why would I be …” Then I realize he’s worried my brother might go all crazy on us and remember that teachers have a responsibility to report a student at risk of being hurt at home to child protection agencies. “Oh, no, nothing like that!” I assure him. “It’s more … he’s just not himself. He used to be funny. Totally geeky, but he was hilarious. He was in your class, do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Mr. Walsh says. “Quite the wit, your brother.”

“But he’s not like that anymore,” I say. “He’s moody. Angry. Unpredictable. Like I never know when I open the door after school what version of my brother I’m going to get.”

“Being in combat can do that to a person,” Mr. Walsh says. “My father fought in Vietnam. It— Well, let’s just say things weren’t always so easy around our house growing up.”

I wonder how bad things were, and there’s so much I want to ask him, but a quick glance at the clock tells me there’s not much time before the bell rings and I still haven’t made a decision.

“So you understand there’s a lot to deal with at home, then. That’s one of the main reasons I’m not sure if I should run.”

Mr. Walsh leans forward and looks at me intently.

“Stella, the decision to run is one only you can make. But I just want to give you two things to consider, okay?”

I nod.

“The first is that one of the main reasons I turned into such a political junkie was because of what happened to my dad. I wanted to understand the decisions that sent him to Vietnam and the climate that led to him facing protests when he got back instead of being thanked for doing his duty. My dad, and so many like him, fought because they were drafted.”

“Okay … I can understand that,” I say, although I’m not entirely sure what it has to do with my dilemma.

“The second thing is a question I’d like you to ask yourself: What’s the point of being the ace debater on our team if you’re not willing to put any of those great skills into practice?” he says.

The pride I feel when he calls me the team’s ace debater is quickly followed by the realization that while he’s not coming out directly and telling me to do it, Mr. Walsh thinks I should run against Chris and Amy for class president.

“I’ll think about that,” I tell him. “Well, I better get to class. Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime,” he says, going back to his papers.

I wait to tell Farida about my decision as we walk into AP Gov. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down!” she says, putting her arm around me and giving me a quick hug.

“So you really think you can beat me?” says Chris from behind us. I turn and he’s flipping his hair back with his hand in that annoying way he does.

I don’t, but if he thinks I’m going to admit that, he’s dreaming.

“Eavesdrop much?” I say. “But why shouldn’t I be able to beat you?”

He doesn’t bother to answer.

He just laughs.

In my face.

I try to play it nonchalant, but the fact that I feel my cheeks warming as I sit down at my desk means Chris must be able to see that telltale flush of anger.

“Of course she can beat you.”

Adam Swann, who heard this as he’s walking to his desk, sounds way more confident about the probability of my victory than I feel. I flash him a grateful smile.

Chris looks from me to Adam. “Since when have you two been dating?” he asks.

Seriously?

“What makes you think this is about dating?” I say.

“I just happen to think Stella will be a better candidate than you are,” Adam says.

“No doubt about that,” Farida agrees.

“O-kay. Sure.” Chris smirks and then turns his back and sits down at his desk.

As I mouth, “Thanks,” at Adam, I can’t help noticing that his cheeks are starting to flush. Or that when they do, it makes his hazel eyes stand out even more.

But Chris is still so wrong.

Farida noticed our exchange, though, and she calls me on it when I’m talking about the election with my friends at lunch.

“So what’s up with you and Mountain Man?” she asks.

“Mountain Man? What are you talking about?”

“Adam Swann. There was some interesting blushing going on there.”

“What?” I protest. “No!”

If she raises that one perfect eyebrow any more, it’ll disappear into her hairline.

“Are you quite sure about that?”

Ugh. I can feel myself blushing again, which probably just confirms her suspicions. Why does my face always have to give me away like this?

“Yes … sure I’m sure,” I say. “I mean, I guess he is kind of cute, but that’s it. End of story.”

“Ladies, can we focus?” Ken complains. “We have an election to win.”

“I’m totally focused,” I say, glad to change the subject. “Laser-sharp focus.”

“You’re going to need a campaign manager,” Ken says. “So I’m pleased to offer you my services. I’m can edit a mean video and I’m great at research. Who knows what dirt I’ll be able to dig up on your opponents.”

“Dirt? What?”

Farida stills. “Wait—I thought I was going to be your campaign manager!”

Awesome. I only decided to run this morning and I already have conflict in my campaign.

“Don’t worry,” Haley says, seeing the look on my face. “I don’t want to be campaign manager.”

I burst out laughing at that. “I didn’t even know I needed a campaign manager to run for class president, that’s how clueless about this I am,” I say.

“That’s why you need one,” Ken says.

I look from Farida—without her I wouldn’t be running in the first place—to Ken, who seems to know a little about this election business and does have great research skills, it’s true.

“What would you guys think about being co-campaign managers?” I hold my breath as my friends eye each other’s reaction.

“It could work,” Ken says.

“It could,” Farida agrees.

“So … ?” I ask. “What’s the verdict?”

Farida smiles and sticks out her fist. “Let’s do it!”

Kenny bumps it. “Here’s to co-managing the winning campaign,” he says.

I wish I shared that confidence, but I’m glad to change the subject.

“So I guess it’s time to brainstorm actual campaign ideas.”

“What about a kindness campaign?” Farida says. “Respecting others. We could make that part of your platform and then even do things as part of the campaign.”

“I like that,” I say. “We could stick Post-its on people’s lockers with compliments.”

“As long as people don’t think you’re just sucking up to them to get their vote,” Hayley says.

“That’s what you’d think if you got a compliment on your locker?” I ask, worried.

“Maybe,” she says. “If I knew it was from someone who was running for class president.”

“You’re so cynical,” Farida sighs. “But fair point. Okay, the election is on October sixteenth,” she says. “We need to come up with a good slogan so we can make campaign posters.”

“That’s right,” Ken says. “We want to get those up quickly. Get your name out there.”

What everyone isn’t saying is: Because you aren’t as popular as Chris and Amy.

“How about something like Vote Stella: Because She Cares?” I suggest.

My idea is met with a resounding meh.

“Maybe Stella Walker: The Responsible Choice,” Farida says.

“That makes me sound boring,” I say. “Especially compared to free ice cream.”

“How about We All Win with Walker?” Ken suggests.

“Better,” Farida says. “Inclusive.”

“I like the alliteration,” I say.

“Ugh, this is an election, not English class,” Haley says. “What about Stella Walker: The Smart Solution? I mean, the whole point is that you’re smart and can do the job well instead of making stupid promises that are never going to happen, right?”

There’s a few seconds of stunned silence as Ken looks at me and I look at Farida and then we all look at Hayley.

“That’s a great idea,” Ken says.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she says. “I have them, too.”

“It’s perfect, Haley,” I say, trying to smooth things over. “It’s says what we want to say, and it has alliteration.”

“Why are you so obsessed with that?” she asks.

“Because it’s catchy,” I tell her. “I always remember alliterative things more.”

“As long as it’s not just because you’re being a word nerd,” Haley says. “Because that’s not going to win you any elections at this school.”

Is it nerdy or just being observant? Whatever.

“Okay, so now we’ve got the slogan. What’s next, campaign managers?”

“We’ll start making posters,” Farida says. “You need to start working on your platform.”

“Yeah,” Ken says. “You need some good ideas.”

Ken’s right. I need some really good ideas if I’m going to win this election. But to do that I need to figure out what I stand for beyond just a catchy campaign slogan.