Total Knockout

by Taylor Morris

  “Look.” She scooted away to face me better. “I know it’s impossible for you to admit, but I actually am doing a good job of it.”

  “So I read. Sounds like everyone is totally in love with you. You’re like our generation’s JFK.”

  “Why can’t you give me any credit? I’ve never said anything bad about you. All I’ve done is try to come up with creative ideas, like for the fund-raiser. I think it’ll take it to a whole new level than it’s ever been in the past.”

  My hands clenched the bar of my backpack. “The bake sale is a tried and true way of doing things. It’s traditional. And I could raise a ton of money. Just ask Cooper—he knows what a great job I always do.”

  “I’m confused,” she said. “Is this about the presidency or Cooper?” I didn’t answer, but stared defiantly out the window. “Look,” she went on, “if you like Cooper, just say so. . . .”

  “This has nothing to do with him,” I said, but a bit too loudly. My face was totally red, I could feel it. “But I don’t like him like him.”

  “Fine, sorry I asked,” she muttered.

  We finally pulled up to the school. “You know what? Just forget it.” I pushed past her to get out of the seat, which was hard with my big backpack. I couldn’t believe she thought I liked Cooper.

  As I pounded down the steps of the bus, dragging my backpack behind me, one thought kept swirling in my confused head: I do not like him.

  I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. And, okay, I know I was being totally mean and irrational about Melanie but I couldn’t help it. My feet simply stormed ahead of me down the halls, the wheels of my backpack squeaking angrily behind me.

  I didn’t know what her brilliant fund-raiser idea was, and maybe it was something good, but that didn’t mean that after all my years as president and all the projects I’d worked on, she was better than me. And that’s what I felt like she was saying.

  And her suggesting I liked Cooper! Please. Please, please, please! He was like a brother to me. I didn’t like him like that, and in fact, I didn’t like him much at all right then, even though I sort of missed him and knew I had to apologize. But come on, the thought of kissing Cooper or even just holding his hand made me feel . . .

  I was so lost in my thoughts that I wasn’t even watching where I was going, and I rammed right into the boy himself. As I backed away from Coop, I looked into his eyes, then quickly looked away, reminding myself to breathe.

  “Oh, s-sorry,” I stammered.

  He had his hand on my elbow, then seemed to realize he was touching me and quickly pulled it back. “You okay?” he asked, and I understood that he meant from our colliding, not from anything else.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. I could barely face him after what Melanie had suggested, but I felt like I was stuck to the spot. I hardly noticed the students pushing past us and wondered, a bit confused, why I had never noticed the bump on the bridge of his nose before.

  Oh, God. Why was I thinking like that? It’s Cooper, I told myself. Cooper!

  “So . . .,” he began.

  “So.”

  “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Well, I don’t mean literally run into you. I’m glad we’re seeing each other.” I looked down at my brown loafers, feeling so happy that he still wanted to talk to me and that he didn’t hate me.

  “Listen, Coop.” I reminded myself not to get my hopes up. After what I did to him and what I’d said, I deserved to be friendless. So, with my expectations appropriately low, I said, “I’m really sorry. About everything, but especially, uh, about hitting you. I was just upset about the whole impeachment thing and I guess, I mean, I know I took it out on you. I didn’t mean to make you my punching bag.” I made myself look into his eyes when I said, “You’re my best friend.” They were the same words he’d said to me just a few weeks ago, and I realized that saying them out loud meant everything.

  “It’s okay. This might sound dumb, but I sort of missed you. Like with boxing and stuff. Anyway,” he said, “I have to talk to you about something, and you’re the only person who will understand.”

  I said something like, “Mmm-hmm.” Honestly, I couldn’t focus, and I couldn’t understand what I was feeling. I kept telling myself, This is just Cooper! But when did his lips get so red and fluffy?

  “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but Melanie is on the verge of blowing this fund-raiser.” I stared back at him blankly. “She has this crazy idea, and the whole thing is going to be a huge failure.”

  “You want me to help Melanie.”

  He nodded sheepishly. “Loosh, you don’t understand what she has planned. It’s going to explode in her face. Possibly literally. I heard Jared talking about it in the halls with his friends. Can’t you just offer to help?”

  “Melanie and I aren’t talking. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re not even friends anymore.”

  “Why?” he asked. I looked at him severely, like How could you not know?! “Come on, don’t be like that. You apologized to me, you can apologize to her.”

  “Who says I’m the one who should be doing all the apologizing?”

  “Well, what’d we do?”

  Cooper Nixon just called himself and Melanie O’Hare a “we.”

  He didn’t understand what she had taken from me, whether it was on purpose or not. He didn’t know that she might be a better president than I was and that I’d been wasting my time all these years. He didn’t care how I was doing now that everything I cared about had been snatched away from me. I was sad. I was tired. Cooper looked at me with big, brown eyes and fluffy red lips, and without realizing what I was doing, I leaned in and kissed him. Right on the mouth.

  It was my first kiss, and I felt it immediately. It lasted only a moment, but everything around us seemed to fade away, and I felt all melty. When I pulled back, my heart seemed to fold in on itself, and I even felt a little faint, which I think is technically called “swooning.” I slowly opened my eyes, and that’s when I saw Cooper’s wide-open eyes staring at me in a way that can only be described as shocked. And not in the pleasantly surprised kind of way, either.

  “Oh my God,” I said, touching my hand to my lips.

  “Why did you do that?” he said. Actually, more like demanded.

  “I—I don’t know,” I said honestly. He didn’t like it. He’s totally grossed out. He hates me even more now. “I’m sorry.”

  Cooper looked around us, and I realized, with absolute relief, that there was no one in the halls. But now I was going to be late for class.

  “I—I gotta get to class,” Cooper said without looking at me, then quickly turned and walked away. As I stood alone in the halls, still touching my mouth, I wondered if my life could get any worse. Kissing Cooper actually felt good. I would have thought it would be like kissing my brother, but it wasn’t. It was like kissing a boy. And I liked it.

  But he hadn’t.

  I wanted to take it back. I wanted to take everything back. This was supposed to be my best year of junior high and to prepare me for high school, but I’d only made things go horribly wrong. But with this, with Cooper, I had to fix it. I refused to go any longer without my best friend. Because that’s what was important—Cooper, as my best friend. I would never admit it out loud, but I was glad my first kiss ever was with Cooper Nixon, even if it was our last kiss ever.

  Later that same day (was it actually still only Monday?!), I rushed toward the cafeteria to find Cooper. I got there just before he went inside, and I grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the side of the vending machine before he even knew what was happening. When he got a good look at me, he said, “Uh, Lucia, seriously. I really like you as a friend, but . . .”

  “Oh, stop it. I’m not going to kiss you again.”

  He looked at me skeptically. “You’re not?” I shook my head. I saw his face start to relax, the old Coop looking back at me. “Promise?”

  “I swear, I promise I will never
in my life ever try to kiss you again.”

  He cracked a smile and said, “Thank God.”

  I covered my face with my hands, mortified at the whole thing. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. Please, can we just forget that ever happened?”

  “Not sure if that’s possible,” he said. “But it’s cool. I always knew you were in love with me.” For the second time that day, the world stopped and so did my breathing. Maybe he did . . . “Kidding, Loosh. Dang, take a breath or something, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “I’m such a mess.”

  “Clearly.” He laughed.

  We stood for a moment as the last of our grade filed into the cafeteria. I told myself that later I would reprogram my mind to think about Cooper the way I used to—as a friend and not a guy. I figured with enough self-discipline, I could brainwash myself.

  “I can’t believe all the drama I’ve created,” I said, eager to change the subject. “Does everyone still hate me for fudging the vote?”

  “Nah,” Cooper said. “I don’t even think they remember anymore. Now everyone’s talking about the new cheerleading coach. Did you see Nicole’s article on it?”

  I had. Apparently, April DeHart’s dad had paid for an outside cheer coach, which was against district rules. I could take a hit with Nicole’s stories, but I wasn’t sure April could.

  “I think Nicole is getting more ruthless,” I said. “She was there in the meeting when I had the idea of a contest to boost vending-machine sales, and then her article made it sound like it was Jared’s idea.”

  “I know. I kind of schooled her on that.”

  “You did?” He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “What’d you say?”

  “I don’t remember. I was just mad about the article in general. She made it sound like we were all so happy without you.”

  Which was exactly what I had been wondering. “But aren’t you? I mean, you didn’t come to me after you read it.”

  He put his hands in his baggy jeans pockets and looked out the side door. “I know. I really was mad at you. Not just for the hit but for, like . . .” He paused. “Sometimes it was like I wasn’t allowed to have any friends but you. You’ve gotten sort of . . . bossy over the last couple of years.”

  I felt myself cringe. I had been motivated to be taken seriously and to leave my mark on the school. But I didn’t know I’d been bossy. I really didn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever, I’m telling you now. I didn’t not like you, so stop looking like you’re going to vomit or something.” He lightly punched my shoulder. “Just lighten up or something. You don’t have to be so serious all the time.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m definitely on a new mission.”

  He smiled. “Listen. I was serious about what I said before about Melanie and the fund-raiser. Will you say something to her? Maybe just subtly offer to help her or something?”

  “I don’t think she’ll want my help,” I said. “I told you, we’re not talking. We got into a huge fight this morning on the bus.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded but didn’t elaborate. He seemed to understand and didn’t ask any questions.

  “I know you don’t want anything to mess up the fund-raiser,” he continued. “Raising the money is what’s important, right? Just say something to her. Don’t tell her I said this, but she might ruin it all.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want that either. “Fine. I will only because you want me to. And I’m telling you, she’s not going to like it.”

  “Just try,” he pressed.

  If I was truly keeping my expectations low, then I shouldn’t expect her to welcome my assistance with open arms. Before even saying a word to Melanie, I knew she’d hate my butting in.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging on my hand. Zing! I thought of how jealous I’d been when he grabbed Melanie’s wrist on the trampoline. “Let’s do it now, get it over with.”

  “No way! I’ll do it, but not now. After lunch.” I certainly didn’t want an audience for this.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “And for the record,” I said as we headed toward the cafeteria, away from where Melanie sat with Rose Andreas and Catherine Collins, “I’m only doing this for you and the football team. Not her.”

  I was thankful that Cooper sat with me, even though he kept looking toward Melanie like he’d rather be sitting with her.

  When the bell rang, I told Cooper I’d see him later as I headed toward Melanie and her friends.

  “Good luck,” he cheered. “And thanks!”

  “Hey,” I said as I approached Melanie, trying to sound casual, but my heart was pounding and I could feel Rose’s and Catherine’s eyes on me. After this, I would be totally paid up on my debt to Cooper. “Um, can I talk to you for a sec?” She told her friends she’d see them later, then turned to face me.

  “Look,” she said before I even began. “About this morning. I’m really sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I was the bigger jerk. I’m just all messed up because of the whole . . . thing.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s okay.”

  “Look, I know you have something really big planned for the fund-raiser. I just wanted to say, if you need any help on it or anything, just let me know.”

  “Really?” She sounded like she didn’t believe me.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, thanks for offering,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve got it covered.”

  “Yeah, well. I just thought I’d offer. I have a lot of experience with fund-raisers.”

  Melanie looked off down the hall, where Cooper was standing by a water fountain as if he were trying to decide whether he was thirsty. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?” I hated to admit it, but truthfully I didn’t think she could, given her track record and the fact that Cooper had asked me to help save the whole thing. But by thinking all this just after she asked me, I guess my silence gave her the answer. “I can do this,” Melanie said defiantly, “without you. You’ll see.”

  “Melanie, that’s not what—”

  But she was already running down the hall, right past Cooper without stopping. I turned and headed in the other direction.

  “Loosh, wait up!”

  When Cooper caught up to me, I said, “I can’t believe I just did that.” I’d never had faith that Melanie could follow through with anything, but I didn’t know that she knew I thought that. It made me feel horrible for thinking it in the first place.

  “What happened?”

  “Forget it,” I told him. “She can do it on her own.”

  “Come on, Loosh. You have to help her.”

  I stopped and faced Cooper, even though I was so totally going to be late for class. “No, Cooper. She has to do it on her own. Don’t you get it?”

  “No, I don’t!”

  I started walking again. “She’ll do fine. I’m sure the whole thing is going to be great.” I said the words, but I didn’t believe them.

  “Stop being like that!” he said, but I wasn’t being like that. I was trying to be a good friend to Melanie by giving her space to make her own mark. Was that so awful?

  “Loosh, would you please stop?” Cooper begged, trying to keep pace with me.

  I kept walking until Cooper finally backed off. It wasn’t until I got to my locker that I realized he’d never told me what she planned to do.

  The annual fund-raiser began on Friday during seventh period and went into the after-school hours. Parents left work early to stop by and check it all out, and of course almost everyone loved getting out of class an hour early. That day I didn’t mind missing class—I was as anxious as everyone else to see what Melanie had planned, even though I still had a hard time believing I wouldn’t be a part of it.

  As Nicole had written in my resignation story, this year the goal was to raise money for new, and extra, warm-up suits for the football team. The weather was still unseasonably cold, the team h
ad more players than usual, and there were districtwide budget cuts on athletics programs in general, all adding up to our guys’ needing some extra sweat suits. The plaque announcing which class donated the suits would go in the guys’ locker room. With Melanie’s name as president. I tried to console myself by telling myself that having my name in the guys’ locker room would have been a little tacky, but I didn’t really buy it.

  When the bell rang ending sixth period and the day, I headed toward the cafeteria with the other excited students with a mixture of enthusiasm, dread, and loneliness. In the past two years, the eighth-grade president had always asked for my help since I was so reliable. I tried to embrace the lightness of having no responsibility and just enjoy the event, but I was worried about Melanie. I didn’t want her to fail, but I was also nervous that she’d be better than me on her first try.

  The cafeteria was utterly transformed. Thick sheets of clear plastic covered most of the floor, and the lunch tables were folded and lined up against the walls. Banners and balloons, in our school colors of light blue and orange, decorated the ceiling and walls, and someone had drawn a cartoon of a shivering football player and hung it in the center of the back wall.

  When I saw the pies that were stacked haphazardly on two long tables, I got that bad feeling in my stomach. Some were already out of their boxes and none looked particularly appetizing. But then I saw what was in front of the table of pies—the two wooden cutouts with holes to put your own face in—and I realized that this wasn’t a bake sale. The pies were there to be thrown, at people, with their heads stuck through those horrible wooden cutouts.

  The first was a man in a suit, holding a briefcase in one hand and waving with the other, waiting for someone to give him a face. The second was a blond woman in a pink bikini with her hand on her hip, which was popped out at a sexy angle. A sign next to them read, PIE YOUR FAVORITE TEACHER—$5 FOR 3 THROWS!

  Students clamored in front of the table to pay for a shot at the teachers. Coach Fleck stood before the cutouts talking to a couple of the female teachers—among them Mrs. Peoria, whose arms were folded tightly across her body and whose face was wearing a clearly angry look.