by Laura Wood
Kevin’s eyes are growing starry. “Well, that sounds amazing,” he says, “but there’s never any money left over for the art club.”
My grin stretches even wider. “Until now,” I say. “Until now.”
When the bell rings for lunch, Angelika and I leap out of our seats and hustle to campaign HQ. Jess is only slightly behind us.
“I wonder if Kevin will turn up,” I say anxiously.
“It definitely seemed like you had won him over,” Angelika replies.
“Who’s Kevin?” Jess asks, and just then I see a blaze of red hair rounding the corner towards us.
“Hi,” Kevin says nervously. “I guess this is the right place then.”
“You made it!” I exclaim gleefully, and he looks pleased that I’m so pleased.
“I … er … made this,” Kevin says, and he unzips his giant backpack, carefully pulling out a laminated sheet of paper. It’s a sign for the front of the door and it says: in big swirling letters. It’s beautiful.
“Wow,” Jess says. “That’s really good.”
I nod in agreement.
“That’s so much better than yours, Effie,” Jess continues.
“Yes,” I agree.
“Yours was just plain embarrassing, compared to this,” Jess adds.
“Mmm,” I say.
“I mean, it looked like yours was done by a toddler or something…”
“Yes, thanks, Jess,” I say firmly, cutting her off before she can get any further. From the gleam in her eyes I can tell Jess has plenty more to share about my lack of artistic ability.
With great ceremony we tape the sign to the door, and I feel a bubble of happiness in my chest as I look at it, and at the people standing beside me. It makes me feel full of feelings, like I’m about to pop with it all and spray them in a sort of disgusting cloud of glitter and rainbows and sparkly unicorn dust.
“So,” Angelika says brightly. “Shall we go in and wait?”
We go inside and turn the light on. Jess hasn’t brought her cushions in yet, but we’ve dragged in a table and a couple of chairs. Angelika and I perch on the table, our legs swinging. I start mentally running through my plans for the meeting. I really want to make sure everyone has a specific job that will best suit their particular skills, and also to clarify what issues we want to focus on during the campaign. I have a list of possibilities, but as there are seventy-five items on it we may need to narrow it down slightly. The minutes tick by, and we give up making awkward conversation after a while. Jess is humming now, something loud and a bit tuneless.
Finally, finally, just when I am about to give up, there is a very soft knock at the door. It is so soft, in fact, that if we hadn’t all been sitting in total silence, I doubt that we would have heard it.
“I’ll get it,” I cry, leaping to my feet and shoving the door open. Standing on the other side is a girl in a grey Puffa jacket, zipped tight and her hood pulled up so that only a bit of her face is visible. Her hand is still in the air thanks to my speed in answering her knock. I notice that her fingers are shaking quite badly and that her eyes are wide as she steps back in alarm at my enthusiastic greeting.
“Hi! Hi!” I exclaim, bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Are you here for the campaign team meeting?”
The girl’s eyes slide to the side as if she is considering running away, and then she jerks her head into a quick nod.
“Great,” I say. “Come on in.”
The girl follows me cautiously into the cupboard, standing awkwardly on the threshold as she eyes my three pals.
“I’m Effie,” I say now, and I bring my voice down so it’s a bit calmer and quieter. It’s obvious from the way the girl is standing, hunched into her coat, her hands buried in her pockets and her eyes on the floor in front of her, that she is feeling shy. She is quite big, but the way she stands is as if she wants to make herself so small that she disappears completely.
Fleetingly, her eyes meet mine, and I can see that her cheeks are red. She doesn’t say anything.
“This is Angelika, Jess and Kevin,” I say, pointing to each of them.
“You’re in my maths class,” Jess says. “Your name’s Zo.”
The girl nods again.
“Right,” I say brightly. “Well, I suppose we should bring this meeting to order.”
CHAPTER Twelve
“So,” I say, channelling my most presidential voice and clasping my hands behind my back. I begin to stride forward, because I always think pacing seems like the sort of thing important, clever people do, but unfortunately there is nowhere for me to actually stride to in this squished room, so I come to an abrupt halt, sort of bouncing off the wall like a character in a computer game. “Um.” I clear my throat, swinging back to face them. “Thank you all for coming to this meeting. My name is Effie, and I’m running for junior class president.” I pause here and Angelika applauds loudly. After a second the others join in, but a lot less enthusiastically.
“Thank you,” I say, raising my hands to silence them. “It really means a lot to me that you all came today. I know that I’m new to this school, but I really do think that the student council is so important, and, as president, there are loads of positive things that I can do to improve this school for everyone.”
Angelika nods encouragingly, Jess is staring thoughtfully into the distance, Kevin makes a sort of murmuring noise in the back of his throat, and Zo remains silent. It’s not exactly the rapturous response I was hoping for, but I plough on regardless.
“So,” I continue, “I suppose the first thing to discuss is different jobs. Obviously, Kevin will be in charge of art and design. Angelika is the campaign manager … although…” I turn to face her. “Are you sure that’s not too much with you running for secretary again? Will you have time?”
Angelika waves her hand dismissively. “I’m the only person running,” she says, “so the job’s already mine. No one wants to be secretary because you have to be super organized and in charge of all the paperwork.” Her eyes gleam here. “Which is why I love it.”
Once again I reflect on how much of a kindred spirit Angelika is. Only this morning we had a pretty heated debate over the best kind of paper for making notes on. I said blue-lined, narrow-ruled paper WITH margins because I’m not completely devoid of good common sense, but Angelika favours an unlined notebook. Apparently she’s more of a visual thinker and she likes to throw in the odd mind-map so I suppose it sort of adds up, even if she is technically wrong. We might be quite different in some ways, but our shared love of organization and stationery is creating the kind of unbreakable bond that I would usually attribute to my preferred brand of superglue.
“Great,” I say, “so that leaves Jess, who I thought might be in charge of communications, gathering support with other students and teachers?” I look over at her questioningly and she nods. “And then there’s Zo…” I look over at the girl, who shrinks even further back into her coat (if such a thing is possible). “Maybe you can just sort of float and we’ll work out where you fit in best later on?” I smile encouragingly at her and she responds with another quick, jerky nod.
“And I guess that means I’m security,” a voice cracks from the doorway. Angelika, Kevin and Jess are all staring over my shoulder with wide eyes; Zo has retreated so far into the shadows that I don’t know what she’s doing. I spin around and then I can understand everyone’s surprise. Even though I have only been at the school for a short time I recognize Ruby Frost. A girl from the year above, she is chewing gum, snapping it between her teeth, her blazer jangles with lots of different metal pin badges and the heels on her school shoes make her about half a foot taller than the rest of us. She’s intimidatingly pretty, with sharp, slanting cheekbones and glowing dark-brown skin.
“All right?” she says, with a crack of her pink gum. “Is this the place for the campaign meeting?”
“Yes,” I manage. “I’m Effie.”
“Cool,” Ruby says, stalking in and shaking her long ha
ir, which is plaited into hundreds of tight braids.
Jess is looking at her in bemusement. “What are you doing here?” She asks the question we’ve all been wondering about in her usual blunt way. Ruby doesn’t seem offended.
“I heard about Effie standing up to Aaron in the canteen. Caring is cool,” she says with an easy shrug and another snap of her gum. “Everyone knows that. It’s about time we had a girl in charge, if you ask me.” She grins at me, and I grin back.
“OK, great,” I say. “I agree! And I think we should be standing up and making some noise. I’m sick of people telling me to be quiet about the things I care about.” There’s a ripple of agreement here, and the room seems to relax a bit. Well, apart from Zo, who is still eyeing me warily from deep inside her coat. I flash a reassuring smile at her.
“So, I suppose the first thing to do is to talk about the issues we want to focus on in the campaign,” I say, pulling out my list, which covers four sides of A4. “I’ve jotted down a few ideas, so if we go through the first thirty or so today…”
“That sounds really, um, ambitious.” Kevin is wide-eyed.
“That list is way too long,” Jess says bluntly.
“I know,” I sigh, “but there’s just so much to do!”
“Why don’t you tell us what you think are the top three or four things?” Angelika suggests.
I gaze at my list, agonized. It’s like choosing three scoops in an ice cream shop that serves seventy of your favourite flavours. I make a strangled noise.
Ruby pinches the list from my hands and runs her eyes over it. “This one just says WHALES with a question mark by it. Do you want to get whales for the school? Like a mascot or something? That could be cool.”
“No.” I shake my head, taking the list back and studying it. I’d written some of these things down quite late at night and my handwriting was a bit messy. “Oh, yes, I know. I was watching this documentary about whales and there’s this charity that does conservation work for whales and dolphins…”
“A dolphin would be a lot easier to fit in the school than a whale,” Jess points out. “Whales are massive.”
“No, I don’t want us to adopt one,” I say desperately, “I want us to raise money for them.”
“Oh.” Jess looks a bit disappointed.
“Well, that’s a good idea,” Angelika says, “but it’s kind of specific and the sort of thing you could do if you win. Maybe for campaigning we just need a couple of big, broad ideas.”
I nod eagerly, seeing the sense in what she says. This is why you can’t do these things alone. I hand the list around and we get down to discussion. By the time lunch has finished we have a list that we pin on the wall.
When I walk home later that afternoon it is with a spring in my step that would rival Tigger at his most bouncy. I have a team behind me, and I feel certain that together we can succeed. I mean, yes, we’re a bit of an odd bunch, but I just feel it in my bones that we are going to do great things. As I get closer to home, however, my mood takes a dive. In all the excitement I had forgotten about the ruthless betrayal of my so-called “parents”. I decide to put off dealing with them by dropping in to see Iris.
She is not sitting on her doorstep and so I ring the doorbell, hearing the echo of it tinkling inside. There is a long pause as Iris shuffles through to answer it.
“Oh,” she says when she sees me, “it’s you.” Which I’ve come to realize is Iris code for “I’m really happy to see you”.
“I suppose you’d better come in,” she calls over her shoulder, already moving through to the kitchen.
“Hello, Lennon,” I call cheerfully as I bundle into the lovely warm kitchen. Lennon is out of his cage, stretching his wings, and is currently perched on the back of a chair. It smells of cake in here and I notice with interest that Iris seems to have been baking.
“AWFUL CRONE!” Lennon croaks.
“Gosh, thanks,” I say, going over to offer him a nut out of the jar that Iris keeps on the side for him. “We really need to work on your manners.”
“Don’t you go trying to fix my parrot,” Iris snaps. “I like him just as he is.”
“USELESS TURNIP!” Lennon shrieks.
“That’s right, my lovely,” Iris croons. “You tell her.” Lennon whistles and bobs his head.
I settle into my seat and I’m thrilled when Iris deposits a slab of fruit cake in front of me.
“This looks great,” I say, digging straight in. The cake is still warm and it’s sweet and a bit spicy with crunchy brown sugar on top. “Oh wow, this is so good!”
Iris sniffs, but I can tell that she’s pleased even when she tries to hide it. “Well, don’t get used to it,” she says sharply. “I’m not going to be baking for you all the time now. Custard creams are plenty good enough for you and your sister.”
“What are you and Lil watching next?” I ask, spraying crumbs everywhere, which I hastily try and clean up.
“Something about an emperor,” Iris says, lowering herself into her seat with a sigh. Iris can’t be on her feet too long. I guess that’s why she doesn’t seem to leave the house very much. I’ve noticed that there’s a wheelchair by the front door, but it’s mostly buried under a load of coats and scarves.
“The Emperor’s New Groove!” I exclaim. “That’s my favourite. That or Mulan. It’s a tough one.”
“Hmmm,” Iris grumbles. “Lot of nonsense if you ask me. Although things do seem to have moved on from Snow White, I’ll grant you.”
“Well, I think you’ll enjoy them,” I say.
“Not got much choice, with the way your sister bosses me around.” Iris tries to look grumpy, but her eyes are soft and crinkled at the corners.
I choose not to answer that and hide a smile behind my hand, stuffing another piece of delicious cake in my mouth. Today has been a good day. No doubt about it, things are definitely looking up.
CHAPTER Thirteen
I should have known it wouldn’t last. Everything begins well enough, and the next day we have another campaign meeting during the lunch break.
We’ve been in the cupboard for about fifteen minutes, and I’m relieved to see that everyone has come back again … even Zo, who sticks to her favourite shadowy corner.
I mention my idea about the girls’ football team and Ruby lights up. “Oh, wicked,” she says. “I love football. I’m way better than my brothers. I’d love it if there was a team I could join.”
“That could be really good for your campaign, too,” Angelika says thoughtfully. “After all, it’s a matter of equality and fairness … which is what your run for president is all about.”
There’s a warm feeling in my chest. Seeing someone be so enthusiastic about one of my ideas, seeing the way those ideas could actually make a difference to a real person … well, that’s definitely exciting. Ruby and I agree to talk more about next possible steps together.
“Right, so I asked Miss Sardana about the debate,” I say, moving on to the next item on my list, “but she had to check with Ms Shaarawi, because apparently they haven’t even HAD the debate part of the campaign for YEARS.” I roll my eyes. “What is the point of laying out the rules of the election if they’re not going to follow them?”
“I think last year no one bothered to run against Aaron,” Jess points out. “Would have been a bit weird if he had been up on stage debating with himself.”
“Quite funny, though,” Ruby snorts from the purple cushions on the floor where she is sprawled. “He could have run from one side of the stage to the other and back again.”
“He could have worn a wig,” Kevin ventures, getting into the spirit of things. “Or one of those costumes where one half of him looks like one person, and the other looks like someone else so he has to keep turning from side to side?”
“Oooh, yeah,” Ruby agrees. “That would be worth watching. Good one, Kev.”
Kevin flushes with pleasure at having won Ruby’s approval.
“Well, as much as we would
ALL enjoy watching Aaron Davis arguing with himself, this year he’ll be arguing with ME,” I say. “And losing,” I add firmly.
“Too right!” Ruby calls.
“So when is the debate being held?” Jess asks, her pen in her hand to make a note in the OFFICIAL campaign diary that Angelika provided.
“It’s on the twelfth of December,” I say with a little shiver. “The day before the election.”
“Right,” Angelika puts in. “So we’ve got lots of time left to prepare for that. And the student fair is in a couple of weeks.”
I frown, crinkling my forehead. “I’ve never been to one before, so what do people usually do?” I ask.
“Well, we need to book a stand,” Angelika says. “People sell stuff to raise money for the school – cakes and biscuits and things usually. We decorate the stand with a theme that reflects something about our campaign and we all dress up, and there’s a prize for the best decorations.”
“The band usually play and people sing or dance on the stage as well,” Jess explains. “And parents come as well as students.”
“Yeah, ’cos they’re the ones that splash out the cash on wonky gingerbread men.” Ruby snorts.
“OK,” I say, although I don’t really want to think about my parents at the moment … two days after our disagreement and things are still pretty frosty between us. Dad keeps casting me mournful glances and sighing heavily while I answer all his questions in monosyllables. “So we’ve got a while, but we also need to start thinking about themes for that. Something that sums up all that we’re about and hope to accomplish,” I finish briskly.
The team nods.
“So, can we go and get some lunch now?” Ruby asks, clutching her stomach. “I’m starving.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Meeting adjourned.”
While everyone stands and gathers their bags I look down at my notebook.
“Are you coming?” Angelika asks from the door.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I say. “I just want to make sure that I’ve got everything down before it all goes out of my head.”