Get Out the Vote

For the rest of the week, the other Sweets and I roam the halls. “Be sweet and vote for Stella!” is our catchphrase. Madison thought of that—another reason why she’ll make a great vice president after I win.

Every time somebody promises to vote for us, we give them two things: an invitation to my birthday party and a sparkly heart sticker. Some of the other Sweets (ahem, Avery and Sara N.H.) were super against the idea of us handing out the stickers because they’re supposed to be our special thing. I explained that these are just stickers—the charms are like a totally different thing. BUT, what we need is a way to identify the sixth graders who’ve already promised to vote. That way we don’t waste any time talking to kids that we totally don’t need to talk to.

Today, I stroll up to one of the Doomsday Geeks. He’s like the equivalent of me at the Doomsday Geeks’ table. In fact, he even planned the Mystery Ball or something, I think. Well, it was either him or one of the other Geeks. But it was probably him. Anyway, I’ve noticed that more and more students have been sitting at his table. Clearly, as much as it kind of pains me to talk to him in the hallway, this is a guy who has some influence at Halsey School.

“Be sweet and vote for Stella!” I call out to him, putting on my biggest, most megawatt, most DO WHAT I SAY smile. I hold out a sparkly heart sticker. He stares at me. I keep holding out the sticker.

“Um, seriously, Tim or Glenn or whatever? My arm’s getting a little tired.” Still I keep my smile nice and wide. Always bring your A game. This smile is my A game.

It doesn’t seem to be working, though, because the Geek shakes his head at me. I mean, HE shakes his head at ME. What is it, Backwards Day or something?

“It’s not, like, very nice to refuse a sticker that’s being offered to you,” I say. Avery and Sarah H. come and stand behind me. Now it’s the three of us in a face-off with the Geek, who’s not budging. He just keeps shaking his head.

Finally he rolls his eyes and puts his hands up in front of him. “I can’t vote for you, okay?”

“Um, why not?” My face feels a little hot with anger or embarrassment or I don’t know what. Let’s just say I was NOT expecting this.

“Because I’m running against you! Tim? Tim Watkins? That name ring a bell?”

I can’t really tell him that yes, it does ring a bell because sometimes I peek over his shoulder in class to see the answers he’s putting down for math problems.

When you have a busy calendar like mine, math homework doesn’t exactly fall at the top of the list. I remember seeing the name “Tim Watkins” written in neat letters on the tops of his papers, but I’ve never actually talked to him. I mean, why would I?

“So you’re still running?” I mean, not to be rude, but doesn’t he know that he’s probably going to lose?

“Um, yeah I’m still running. And so is that girl named Esperanza. We both are. Which you would know if you paid attention. We’ve been putting up posters for weeks now. We even had optional speeches in the auditorium.”

I hear Avery and Sarah H. whispering behind me. Now my face really is feeling hot.

“Well, I decided to join later. So what? Doesn’t mean I won’t win.” I’ve decided that I don’t need this Geek’s—Tim’s—vote anyway. I stick my chin out and turn my big, winning smile to the “OFF” position.

He just shrugs. “We’re not going to quit,” he says before turning and walking away.

“Ugh!!! Conference in the girls’ bathroom! Now!”

“So It turns out we have competition,” I inform the other girls as they gather breathlessly in front of the big mirror behind the sinks. Alexa, who is actually at school today, gets immediately lost in poking at a pimple on her chin. “Alexa! Pay attention! This is important. So. Apparently two other kids are still running for president. I mean, not that I’m worried or anything, but that Tim the Geek guy is NOT very nice at all. He made it seem like his friends were going to vote for HIM or something, which . . . who knows why?! And then some other girl named Esperanza is running, too.”

“Actually, she changed her name to Espere,” Avery pipes up. She probably likes that because it sounds French.

“Yeah, whatever. Well, all I’m saying is that we can’t let these Geeks and losers steal the election from us just because they got a head start.”

“Maybe they actually want to win just as much as you do,” says Dana.

“Dana, you’re not exactly HELPING! Do you want to have a cheer squad or not? I thought we were all working towards the same goal here. We only have one week left! Avery, I need you to get me a meeting with Esperanza . . . Espere. And guys? Talk to everyone you see in the hall. Everyone. Even if they sit at the Doomsday Geeks table. I mean, they may think they’re friends with those guys, but if they get a chance to hang out with us? I’m sure they’ll switch over to our side.”

Still, as the Sweets and I slip back into the hallway and start heading to class, I feel the first twinge of an unfamiliar feeling. What is it exactly? I think my brother would call it “fumbling the ball.” It feels like . . . doubt? Or maybe just worry? Is it possible that I, Stella Sweet, the Most Popular Girl at Halsey School, have gotten in over my head?

I decide it’s time for a second lunchroom speech. I may have missed the auditorium speeches, but you can bet the whole sixth grade will be in the cafeteria for fifty minutes today. I couldn’t even get Esperanza to talk to me, though now that I realize she’s best friends with pickle-eating Kinsley Boggs, I feel kind of meh about her. She’s no threat. For this speech, I carry a huge sign that the Sweets and I made over the weekend. It’s just five days until Election Day, so we’re in serious overdrive. Our sign is more like a banner, and it’s so long that every Sweet, including Alexa, needs to hold on to it once it’s unfurled. Start 7^th Grade on a Sweet Note it says in the absolute nicest writing we could trace out onto the huge sheet. We decorated it with glitter (of course) and lots of bright colors because, duh, Halsey School could use a little fashion.

With the huge banner behind me, I clear my throat. “I just want to remind you, Halsey sixth graders, that this week is your absolute last chance to be invited to the best birthday party of the year! And to get a heart sticker! So, on Friday, just remember to be Sweet!” I think I see a few of the kids roll their eyes, but when I catch them with my death glare, they look down and lose the attitude. Once again, Ms. Arple is leaning against a post in the cafeteria, acting as lunch monitor. I told her we had to skip practice this week so we can focus on the election. Perhaps that’s why she’s giving me a disappointed look right about now.

I kind of wish I could ask my brother what “fumbling the ball” feels like for real, because even after my speech, I can’t quite shake that feeling. I mean, usually if I want something, I just take it. It feels weird to have to count on others—and other sixth graders no less— to make my wish a reality. To have to ask them to do a favor for me, when it’s usually them asking for the favor. Very surreal. Not to mention, the other Sweets seem kind of bored with all this election stuff. We were all crabby making the banner over the weekend, arguing over who should get the glitter paint first and whether the pink was more of a fuchsia pink or more of a magenta pink. Man, is this what leaders have to deal with all of the time? Because it’s sort of exhausting, if you ask me. I hope being class president won’t be like that . . .