CHAPTER

ELEVEN

On Friday, Alex woke up with her stomach turning in somersaults. Today was speech day. It wasn’t like she wasn’t prepared. She knew her speech by heart. She’d practiced it over and over and over until close to midnight, and she could recite it in her sleep. She probably had said it in her sleep, come to think of it. Still, this was a big moment in her campaign. A speech in front of the whole seventh grade. They were rearranging the lunch blocks, extending them by fifteen minutes for each grade, to give the candidates for president time to make a three-minute speech, followed by a question-and-answer session. Due to time constraints, the other candidates—for vice president, secretary, and treasurer—would be distributing their one-paragraph speeches in written form to everyone in homeroom.

“Well, now, don’t you look presidential!” said Tommy as Alex walked into the kitchen half an hour later. She hadn’t found a snappy red blazer, but she was wearing the next best thing—a crisp white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and an A-line red skirt.

“Pretty, hon,” said Mrs. Sackett, plunking down a plate of scrambled eggs with toast for Alex.

Coach hurried in, fully dressed and tucking in his shirt. “Come on, Tom. We’ve got to get going. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

“Good luck in your game, you two,” said Alex as the two of them headed for the door. “Wish we could be there!”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” said Coach, giving her a quick kiss on the top of the head as he grabbed his coffee cup off the counter. “Good luck with the speech today.” He and Tommy hurried out the door.

“Wait, why can’t we go to the game again, Mom?” asked Ava, who had just come clattering down the stairs in—Alex noted with mild disapproval—a football jersey.

“Because it’s almost two hours away,” said her mother patiently. “And it would mean pulling you out of school early, which I do not think is a good thing to do for a football game. You can watch it on the computer—it’s streaming through the school website. I’ll have it all set up for you.”

Alex pushed away the eggs she’d barely touched and stood up. “I’m too nervous to eat,” she said to her mom. “I’m going upstairs to practice my speech a couple more times. Call me when you’re ready to go, Ave.”

Images

After lunch, Alex sat up on the platform at one end of the cafeteria, looking out at a sea of faces. It was the old stage, one that was rarely used anymore since the school had added on the auditorium, but today it would come in handy as everyone was already sitting, ready for the show.

“We’ll go in alphabetical order,” Ms. Farmen had told the three candidates. “Remember—three minutes and then I ring my bell. We have to keep this moving so we don’t cut into the next class period.”

So Alex was second. She sat in her seat between Logan and Ella, mentally preparing the speech she’d practiced. Neither Logan nor Ella said anything to her, or to each other. They must be as nervous as I am, Alex thought. She looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye. Actually, he didn’t look a bit nervous. He was making faces at a group of guys sitting at a long table toward the front. The guys were all cracking up, shoving one another sideways, and making faces back at him. It’s so not fair, Alex thought. She wanted this so badly, and had for so long, and here was Logan, messing around with his friends—he didn’t seem to care one bit about being president. Yet he was probably the one who would get elected, just because he was popular.

As Ms. Farmen got kids’ attention, tapping the mike and calling for quiet, Alex scanned the crowd. There was Ava, sitting next to Kylie at a table toward the back. Ava gave her a little thumbs-up. Alex allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch upward.

There was thunderous applause and whistles as Ms. Farmen introduced Logan.

He unfolded his long legs, stood up, and ambled to the podium. Alex was grudgingly impressed that he had no notes to refer to. Maybe he had prepared as carefully as she but was better at pretending to be nonchalant.

“Thanks, Ms. Farmen,” he said, speaking in that smooth-as-honey voice. “My name is Logan Medina, and I think I would be a great class president. Here’s why.”

He had a little grin on his face, but Alex could tell he was making this up as he went along. Surely it wasn’t possible that he hadn’t prepared at all!

“Because,” Logan continued, “Ashland Middle is an awesome school and it needs an awesome president!”

There was an eruption of cheers and “Dude!” calls from the table of guys.

“Ashland rules!” he yelled, pumping his fist in the air. The place went wild. Now Logan seemed to be considering what to say next. He glanced over at Alex and Ella.

“My opponents are great and all, but do we really need a president who spends her life in the science lab? What if she accidentally blew up the school or whatever?”

This drew huge amounts of laughter and cheers. Alex felt Ella stiffen beside her.

“Or a president who’s from a family of troublemakers and who thinks girls should play guys’ sports? Our football team is already going to be awesome. Right, dudes? Guys rule!”

Now there was a mixed response from the audience. Logan’s table of course went wild with whoops and cheers, as did a few other groups of guys around the cafeteria. But Alex also heard a distinct booing from all around the room. He had some nerve, bringing her sister into the campaign! What right did he have to insult Ava? And yet—her anger now flared up at Ava. Why couldn’t she just stick to normal sports for girls? Was she going to be the reason Alex lost this election?

Ms. Farmen stepped to the podium again and was ringing her bell. Alex wasn’t sure whether it was because Logan’s allotted three minutes were up (mostly used up by the noise from his friends) or to restore order. The bell worked, and the crowd quieted back down quickly. Alex felt Logan drop casually into the seat beside her. She heard Ms. Farmen introduce her, and stood up on shaky legs. She tottered over to the podium.

She was still seething, mostly at Logan, but a tiny bit at Ava for causing this stress. She had her speech ready. It was all about how organized she was, how prepared she would be to listen to her constituents and take up their grievances to the school administration, how her worthy opponents were great representatives of the athletic kids and the smart kids (respectively), but that she, Alex, was “an everyman,” someone who didn’t fit neatly into any one category and how hers would be a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.” That was to be her big finale. There was no time to change it.

But as she stared at the sea of people, including her sister’s expectant face, she thought about chucking out what she’d prepared. I will stand up for my sister. For girls in general. So what if it makes me lose the election? It’s the noble thing to do.

She cleared her throat.

But then again, she thought, why should I let Ava playing football wreck my chances to be president? It’s not like she’s been all that considerate about my feelings!

Precious seconds had already ticked by. She had to act fast. She made the decision—

—and delivered the speech she’d prepared and memorized.

It was perfectly timed out, and she came in at just under three minutes. The applause was warm but not full of whoops and enthusiasm the way Logan’s had been.

She sat down, still trembling slightly. She barely heard Ella’s speech, but from what she could tell it was a pretty good one; it was well written, and Ella sounded polished as she delivered it. It got about the same level of applause as her speech had. Logan was going to win for sure.

Ms. Farmen invited kids to ask questions of the candidates. “We have just about three minutes remaining before the bell,” she said, “so please keep your questions brief.”

A hand shot up near the right side of the room. Ms. Farmen called on the girl, whom Alex didn’t know.

“I have a question for Alex,” she said.

Alex froze and felt her mouth go dry. She was totally confident fielding questions about her plans as president, but she had a sneaking feeling this question wasn’t going to be about that.

“Do you think your sister should be allowed to play for the football team?”

She was right.

There was an immediate murmuring throughout the cafeteria as Alex got to her feet and accepted the microphone from Ms. Farmen.

“Ah,” she said. Her mind was whirring. What should she say? Of course she believed Ava should be allowed to play football, but she didn’t want to lose voters by saying so. “Um, I believe that sports should be unrelated to politics . . . and as a candidate I think it’s important to remain impartial on this issue . . . while I believe girls can do anything boys can do, I, um, think it’s also true that I don’t want my sister to get hurt, so, ah . . .” She continued to blather on and on, without really saying anything specific. She was dimly aware that the bell rang, and then everyone was bustling around getting ready to go.

She handed the mike back to Ms. Farmen. Had she really spent the whole Q and A on that one question? How would Ava react to her lame, noncommittal answer? She looked at the place where Ava had been sitting.

The seat was empty.