On Wednesday, Alex once again sat between Logan and Ella, this time on the auditorium stage. The entire school was assembled before her, a sea of faces, and right now everyone was listening to the third of the three sixth-grade candidates, a girl named Chloe Klein, deliver her presidential election speech. The houselights weren’t completely down, so Alex could see people’s faces. Lindsey, Emily, and Rosa were front row center. A few rows behind them, Ava was sitting next to Kylie. And toward the back were Jack, Corey, and a bunch of guys from the football team. Xander was at the end of that row, sitting next to Andy, and from the dim glow illuminating their faces from time to time, Alex knew they were playing a game on a phone. Which was way against the rules.
Chloe finished her speech just as Ms. Farmen was reaching for the bell. Ms. Farmen wasn’t kidding about timing speeches exactly. Everyone politely applauded.
“And next we have the seventh-grade candidates,” said Ms. Farmen. “First up will be Logan Medina.”
A sizable number of boys in the audience whooped and cheered and yelled “Meh-DEEEEEE-nah!” as Logan ambled to the stage. Alex was amazed at how relaxed he seemed. Maybe he really should pursue a career in broadcasting or something, she thought enviously.
Again, Logan had no notes with him. He leaned an elbow nonchalantly on the podium and addressed the audience slightly from the side, as though he were telling them all a confidential bit of news. “Hey, y’all,” he said in his low, caramel-smooth voice.
More applause, whooping, and clapping.
Alex saw Ms. Farmen glance down at her stopwatch and shake her head with slight disapproval.
When the applause had died down, Logan resumed, “So yeah. I’m running to be your president. I’ll do my best. With all due respect for my worthy opponents, I think you should vote for me. Thanks, dudes!” He ended there, flashing double peace signs with both arms extended in a V, as the applause rose to thunderous levels. Then he ambled back to his seat and sat down, a sideways grin on his face.
Alex ignored the applause for Logan. She concentrated on Ms. Farmen, who was now quieting the audience in order to introduce her. The applause died down, and then when Ms. Farmen said her name, it swelled again, but not nearly as loudly as it had for Logan.
She floated to the microphone, unable to feel her feet. She felt oddly calm, her heart rate even, her hands dry as they held her carefully prepared remarks.
She lowered the microphone down a few inches—Logan was considerably taller than she was—and began.
“Good morning. My name is Alex Sackett, and I’m running for seventh-grade president. I had a speech prepared to deliver today.” She held up her index cards. “I practiced it about a thousand times. But I’m not going to give that speech.”
There was a murmur in the audience.
Alex’s gaze came to rest on Ava, who was sitting, quietly listening.
“Instead I want to talk today about my twin sister, Ava. As most of you know, she has been prevented from joining the football team. The stated reason is that she might get hurt, but I think it’s because she’s a girl, and girls aren’t supposed to play football. My worthy opponent here”—she gestured toward Logan, who gave the audience a cheerful thumbs-up—“has suggested that you might not want to vote for someone who’s a—what did you call us, Logan? Rabble-rousers? Troublemakers?”
Logan gave another thumbs-up, and the audience roared with laughter.
“If that’s what we Sacketts are, then I want to say how proud I am to be a Sackett.”
Now you could hear a pin drop. Ms. Farmen had set down her stopwatch and her bell and was leaning forward to listen.
“I admit that for a while I felt ashamed and embarrassed that my sister wanted to play football. But now I feel proud of her. And indignant at the possibility that she will be unjustly prevented from doing what she loves. We’re all in middle school. We all know how important it is to want to fit in, to be normal and accepted. But Ava has been true to herself. She doesn’t care what people think of her. She is a hard worker. She is fiercely competitive. And she was born to play the game. Anyone going head-to-head with Ava Sackett is going to end up on the ground. Trust me—I lose every time there’s a fight for our bathroom.”
The crowd erupted with laughter.
“So whether you vote for me or not, I wanted to say that I’m proud to be a rabble-rouser, proud to stand up for what I really believe in, and proud to support someone really close to me who just wants to be herself. Thank you.”
She heard a roaring in her ears as she took her seat and wasn’t sure if it was applause or her own brain going weirdly haywire. As if through a fog, she heard Ms. Farmen introduce Ella, but Alex’s gaze was fixed on Ava’s face.
Ava was grinning. So what if Alex hadn’t said anything about what she would do as president and had just torpedoed any possibility of getting herself elected? Ava was proud of her. And that was all that mattered.