PAIGE’S CAM-PAIN

Wednesday, 6:57 A.M.

“It looks like Marquette swallowed Quinn Wilder whole, then barfed him up again,” Paige said early the next morning, her voice echoing in the deserted Square.

Grimly, Zander, Paige, and I surveyed the LET’S GET WILD(ER)! campaign posters that clung to the walls and floor. Someone had even sprayed THE WILDER, THE BETTER in shaving cream on the roof. In the forty-eight hours since he’d announced his candidacy, Quinn’s beaming face and glistening hair had taken over every inch of our school.

“This sucks,” Paige pronounced. She kicked a Quinn poster out of her path, revealing a crumpled Imran Bhatt ad.

“I know.” My chest tightened. There were two days left before Friday’s election. I didn’t like to think about what Quinn’s next move would be.

Paige punted a giant white beach ball with Quinn’s name on it across The Square. It smacked the door to Silverstein Hall with a sickening slap and deflated. When Paige turned away, Zander grabbed my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back.

“Okay. That felt good. Now let’s get to work.” Paige rolled up the sleeves on her black mini shirtdress, then leaned down to tighten the laces on her suede booties. As Election Day got closer, she seemed to be suiting up for battle in much better clothes than usual.

I dug a few rolls of green crepe paper from the tote at my feet. “Zander and I will take care of the ceiling and walls. And this”—I tossed a few thick hunks of green sidewalk chalk in Paige’s direction—“is courtesy of Ella.”

Paige snatched the chalk out of the air and dropped to her knees. I bit my tongue as she started making sweeping emerald arcs on the floor, then crawled through them in Lurex-threaded black tights. My Lurex-threaded black tights.

“Let’s start with the far corner,” Zander suggested with a smile. His hand brushed mine in what was definitely not an accident.

“Sounds good.” If anyone noticed the flush to my cheeks, I could blame it on the tropical temperatures in the glass-enclosed Square. Zander and I hadn’t been alone since our kiss in the stairwell. Not that I knew what to say to him. It was times like this when I wished Molly were here. And times like this when I cursed the Girl Code.

I followed Zander to the corner of Silverstein and Addams, my heart jangling along with the lucky gold-coin earrings Liv had made me for our Secret Santa this year.

“Paige seems pretty bummed,” Zander said, fiddling with the torn edge of a crepe paper roll. “You think she’ll be okay?” The space between his eyes crinkled with worry.

“She’ll be fine.” I loved how much he cared about Paige. About all people, really. Unless those people were blackmailing pranksters with boy names. Then I did not approve. “I know Quinn, and—”

“Yeah. Spare me the details.” Zander smiled, but didn’t look me directly in the eye.

“Gimme a break.” I shoved him lightly. Okay. Technically, I shoved him a smidge harder than lightly. “We weren’t even together that long.”

“Me and Stevie, either,” Zander shot back.

“Okay, okay. Can we not talk about exes, please?” Just hearing Stevie’s name made me think about Mom and Gabe, which made me want to puke. I would have to tell Zander about them soon, but I still couldn’t figure out how to get the words out without dry-heaving.

“Deal,” Zander agreed.

“Here. Catch.” I took a few giant steps back and hurled the roll of crepe paper toward the ceiling. It sailed over one of the rusted ceiling beams, then dropped into Zander’s outstretched palm.

“Niiiice!” He nodded, looking pleasantly surprised. “Good arm.”

“Yeah, well.” I stuffed my hands in the pockets of the cerulean knit shift dress I wore over a yellow mesh tee. “I’m not just an award-winning journalist and rockin’ lead singer, you know.” The minute the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Did they make me sound like the old, self-centered Kacey? Was it bragging if it was true?

But Zander just laughed. “Apparently,” he said flirtatiously. He whipped the crepe paper roll across The Square. It fluttered over the center beam and made a beeline for Paige. “Heads up!”

“Ahhh!” Paige’s head snapped to attention just as the crepe paper smacked her in the stomach. “Zander!”

“Sorrryyy!” we yelled in unison.

I turned back to Zander and lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’m just saying. I know Quinn, and he doesn’t care about politics. He cares about basketball and his stupid friends. And being popular. That’s it. He’ll get bored and drop out.” Sometimes I couldn’t believe I’d ever crushed on Quinn, that I’d been the type of girl who cared more about my popularity than my good friends. Or my band.

“Isn’t that what this election is all about anyway? Popularity?” Zander asked, frowning. “I mean, you and I know Paige has done tons for the grade, but do you really think everybody else is paying attention?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.” I’d never admit that I had no real concept of what Paige had done as president of seventh. Apart from switching out all the good vending machine snacks for granola, at least.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Something in Zander’s face changed. He looked at the ground. “So, um… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Nah. Nothing. Never mind.”

“No. What?” My heart sped up in my chest. Suddenly, I could feel the electricity between us; could almost visualize gold lightning bolts shooting from my core to his.

“It’s nothing. I just… this musician I used to like in Seattle is playing a small show in town tomorrow night. I didn’t… do you think your mom would let you go out on a school night?”

My mouth went dry. “What, you mean like a d—what about Molly?” I pinched my thigh, hard. How stupid could I possibly be? Zander was asking me out for real, and all I could think to say was What about Molly?

“Well, we’d just be… hanging out. It doesn’t have to be like a big thing.”

BUT I WANT IT TO BE! my brain shouted. “Okay, cool. So tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Seven thirty. Show starts at eight, but it’ll be pretty packed. He’s playing at the café next to Vinyl Destination. It’s gonna be a pretty small show.”

“No Stevie?”

Zander looked at me and grinned. “No Stevie.”

“Hey! What are you guys whispering about over there?” Paige stood up and brushed green dust from the knees of her tights. She flung the crepe paper in our direction. Zander caught it and tossed it back. The ceiling was starting to look like an emerald spiderweb. “Flirting does not count as working.”

“We were just talking about everything you did for the school.” Zander caught himself a few seconds too late. “Everything you’re gonna keep doing. After you win on Friday.”

“Nice try,” Paige said dryly. She hopped over a half-chalked GO GREENE ad and teetered toward us, looking like a baby duckling in her too-high ankle booties. “For real. Do you guys think I’m going to lose? Be honest.” She leveled her eyes at me, and instantly my insides were wound tighter than one of Ella’s bath toys. Was this one of those times I was supposed to lie to spare her feelings? Or did she really want truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

“I was just telling Zander that Quinn doesn’t belong in politics,” I said firmly, ignoring the sweat stains probably forming under my arms. “I don’t think he’s gonna stay in the race.”

“But what if he does?” Her voice was pinched with anger.

“He won’t.”

“But what if he—”

“Paige.” Gently, Zander cut her off. “Who budgeted more money for student-run activities this year than any other student body president?”

Paige pursed her lips together. “I did.”

“Who kept the school board from censoring the Marquette Gazette when they wanted to kill that story on unsanitary meat storage conditions in the cafeteria?”

“I did.” Paige’s eyes flitted to mine. I nodded encouragingly.

“Who donated her birthday money to the Environmental Club?” Zander continued.

“Okay. How did you even know that?” I interrupted, impressed.

“For your information, donations are public record,” Paige sniped.

“Hey! Whoa!” I lifted my palms and took a few steps back. “I come in peace. Before seven A.M. Give me a little credit.”

Paige’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—it’s just that you’ve been kind of MIA these past few days.” She stared at the ground, her chocolate fringe obscuring her eyes.

Zander looked at me and shrugged, as if to say Girl’s got a point.

“You’d be MIA, too, if your mom was dating Stevie’s dad!” I blurted.

“What?” Zander’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his blue streak, and Paige’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“My mom interviewed him the other day, and I think they really like each other,” I said, the words coming out in a rush.

“Oh. Wow.” Zander moved toward me, then rocked back on his Chucks.

“Stevie’s dad?” Paige sounded skeptical. “Like, Stevie’s father?”

“Paige! How many times are you gonna make me say it? My mom is dating the father of the girl I absolutely, positively cannot—” My gaze fell on Zander, his face all scrunched up like I was about to hit him. “—uh, Stevie’s dad.”

“Whoa. That’s bad,” Paige said sympathetically.

Zander caught my eye. “You doing okay?”

I shook my head. “Yeah. No. I dunno. I just… that’s why I’ve been a little preoccupied lately, I guess.”

I plopped down on the stone bench in the center of the courtyard and buried my face in my hands. I had stayed up past two last night, staring at my mini legal pad, and I still had no idea how to make our parents break up. I didn’t even have a spark of an idea. “The other night, they took us on this family date. And apparently, we’re going on another one tonight! I can’t even—”

“Hey. I know. It’s gotta be super weird.” Zander sat next to me and slipped his hand in mine. “Your mom hasn’t really dated much since your parents split, right?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“So it would be hard for her to start dating no matter what, right? But dating Stevie’s father, that makes things like a million times harder.”

“Yeah.” I stared at our hands intertwined in my lap. Zander didn’t seem to be wondering what Paige thought about our holding hands. He wasn’t defending Stevie or telling me what a seriously great guy Gabe was. He just wanted to make sure I was okay. “Exactly,” I whispered.

“Is your mom happy?” Paige asked, triple-blinking at Zander’s hand in mine. Then she wiped her hands on her dress, leaving two green palm prints on her thighs.

“What?” I sniffed.

“Is she happy? Like, does she seem happy when she’s with him? Is she singing in the shower and stuff?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So then that’s all that matters, right? I mean, yeah, it’s awkward for you and Stevie. And that sucks. But you do want your mom to be happy, right?”

I squeezed Zander’s hand so hard that he winced. “Obviously, I want my mom to be happy, Paige. I just want her to be happy without Stevie’s dad.”

Paige was my oldest friend. The one I’d cried with when my dad left. Why wasn’t she getting this? It wasn’t that complicated. My Mom + Stevie’s Dad = No, Thank You.

“But maybe Stevie’s dad is exactly what will make her happy. And wouldn’t that be amazing, if—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” My voice cracked, and I turned away from Paige and toward Zander. “Can we just finish up, please?”

“Totally.” Zander helped me to my feet. “But if you need to talk about it, I’m, like, here. You know?”

“I know.” At least I could count on one of my friends.