Battle of the Ballot Casting
“Vote for Willa. Vote for Willa. Vote for—” Kennedy froze in her orange Hollywould flats when she turned to face Camille and me outside the assembly hall on Monday morning. It was just before the first bell rang, and Team Flan had agreed to meet early so we could make one last-minute push before everyone cast their ballots for Virgil Host at lunch.
Apparently, Kennedy and Willa had the same idea. From where I was standing, I could see only the bottom of Willa’s snakeskin boots-of-death on the stairwell, but I could hear her voice talking to a group of girls gathered around her.
“I’m just looking out for the well-being of our class,” she said, making no attempt to lower her voice. “Do you think Flan Flood even knows what it means to host a Thoney event? A month ago, she was a public school nobody!” I could hear the laughter surround her. Then she said, “I mean, I’m just saying.”
Now, Kennedy stood before me, with an armful of tiny bouquets of calla lilies tied with a ribbon and fastened with a business card that Willa had produced for the election. Kennedy returned the flower she had begun to hold out to me back to the bunch.
“On second thought,” she said, making a big display of pursing her lips together. “Better not waste these.” She smiled innocently. “Vote for Willa,” she said, her voice dripping with her trademark fakeness, before disappearing around the corner.
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes at Camille. “It’s a good thing I had this weekend to unwind. Otherwise, that might have just made me snap.”
“I mean, seriously,” Camille said, shaking her head. “Who makes a business card for this type of thing? I was this close to grabbing that lame bouquet out of her hands and tearing it apart, petal by petal.”
I nodded, pantomiming the scene of ripping up the flowers. “Vote for Willa. Vote for Willa. Not.”
Just then, Harper, Amory, and Morgan waved from across the foyer. As they got closer, I could see that each of them was carrying a differently shaped cardboard box. All three wore buttons in Thoney colors—gold background and forest green letters—with different fonts reading GET FLOODED.
“Omigod,” Camille said, grabbing two more buttons from the box Harper was holding and handing me one. “Amazing. I love all the different fonts. What’s in the other boxes?”
Amory opened her box to show stacks of tiny breath mint tins with FLAN FLOOD: A FRESH START spelled out across the top.
“So fun, you guys,” I said, truly touched that my new friends were taking this election so seriously.
“And so much more functional than the Willa lilies going around,” Morgan said. “Check out my contribution.” She opened her own box to reveal a box of burned CDs. The album art was a picture of me scoring a goal on the hockey field, and the title read, FLAN’S GOT YOU COVERED. “It’s all cover songs by cool female artists,” she explained, handing each of us one.
“Way to go, Morgan. These totally rock.” Camille turned to me. “Okay, Flan, show us the real pièce de résistance.”
I felt for the invitations to the fashion show that I’d slipped in my messenger bag this morning. Jade Moodswing had brought them over last night in an engraved pewter box, and there were enough gold calligraphed invitations for every girl in our class—even Kennedy and Willa. I opened the box to show my friends.
“Whoa, Pandora,” Amory said. “I think you have the Virgil vote in the bag.”
“Can I just say how refreshing it is that not only are you part of this totally swanky event, but you’re inviting everyone to come to it?” Harper said, turning to hand out a few buttons to some girls walking past us. “That never happens at Thoney. There’s always someone being intentionally left out.”
I shrugged. “What’s the point of leaving anyone out? Everyone’s invited to Virgil, so why shouldn’t the host be the kind of person who actually wants to hang out with the whole grade?”
“Hey, Flan,” I heard a voice call from behind me. It was Shira Riley and a few of her senior friends, including Anna, whose Comptoir bag I had complimented last week. “Anna and I just wanted to swing by and wish you luck today. We heard you’ve got some vicious competition.”
I couldn’t believe that these senior girls would even keep up with the relatively small happenings of the underclassmen. Then I wondered: “Did Patch tell you I was running?” I asked Shira.
“Actually,” Anna said, giving me a wink that looked familiar. “My little brother told me all about it after you two hung out at Wollman the other day.”
“You’re Alex’s older sister?” I asked, feeling so totally dumb that I hadn’t put the pieces together before. He’d definitely mentioned her a couple of times in relation to Thoney and Virgil.
“He’s my little brother.” She corrected the emphasis jokingly. “And he seems to think you’d make a pretty good Host.”
Shira nodded. “So do we. We’ll do what we can to spread the word. See you around,” she said, and the two of them headed down the senior locker hall.
“Way to pick the right boy du jour, Flan,” Camille said. Then she pointed to a sign on the door next to the assembly hall. “Hey, check it out. They posted the details about how voting works today.”
Morgan learned forward and read aloud from the sheet of tacked-up paper. “Morning assembly has been rescheduled for three o’clock this afternoon. Cast your ballots for Virgil Host in front of the cafeteria during lunch. After an announcement from Headmistress Winters, this month’s Host will be revealed.”
“I wonder what the announcement from Winters is all about,” Camille said. “She usually only makes one appearance at the beginning of the semester to scare the crap out of everyone.”
Harper shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it has something to do with Virgil?”
“Or the spring fund-raiser,” Amory said, hoisting her Coach tote higher on her shoulder. “Sometimes she comes out of seclusion to give us some money-grubbing sound bites to send home to our parents.”
“Or maybe,” Morgan chimed in, “she anticipates wanting to congratulate Flan and her loyal supporters for running the first anti-smear campaign in Thoney history?”
“Speaking of which,” Camille said, taking half of the fashion show invitations from my hands. She looked at her watch. “We’ve got three hours until lunch, girls. Let’s go out and spread the word just so we make absolutely sure Flan is the one we’re congratulating in assembly this afternoon.”