by Marilyn Kaye
Kiara shook her head. “No. I already knew.”
“How?” I asked. “Do you know who nominated me?”
Kiara nodded. “I did.”
I stared at her in disbelief, and it took me a moment to find my voice.
“Why?”
Kiara shrugged. “Well, what you said about detention yesterday at Ellie’s, that was very interesting. It made me think you might have other good ideas to improve this school. And that’s what a representative is supposed to do, right?”
“Who’s the other candidate?” Alyssa asked. “David something?”
“Tolliver,” I said. “He’s in my homeroom, and he asked Mr. Greene what student representatives did, so I guess he wants to be one.”
I turned back to Kiara. I wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. Kiara always does what she thinks is right, and usually, that’s a good thing. Only this time, she’d gone too far.
“Kiara, listen… you shouldn’t have done that without asking me first. I don’t want to be the seventh-grade representative.”
“Why not?”
“Because… because that’s not the kind of person I am!”
Kiara frowned. “You’re not the kind of person who has good ideas?”
I knew that was supposed to be a compliment, but I couldn’t deal with her logic at that moment. Instead I just sighed and said, “C’mon, let’s go.”
Walking just behind me, Alyssa and Kiara talked, and I didn’t hear a word they were saying. All I could think about was this awful thing that had just happened to me, and what I could possibly do about it.
I wasn’t angry at Kiara. We’d only known each other for less than two months, and she couldn’t know just how much the idea of running in an election absolutely horrified me. It’s not like we’d ever talked about anything like that. But that didn’t change the fact that just thinking about it made my stomach hurt—which wasn’t good, since I had been so looking forward to whatever Mami was making for our snack. So with more willpower than I’d ever thought I had, I pushed all thoughts of the nomination out of my head and conjured up an image of Fifi, which I managed to hold in my mind right up to the front door of my house.
Mom opened it as I was reaching for the knob, and before she could even greet us, Fifi came running out between her legs and stopped in front of us. Then she stood up on her hind legs and panted. It was like she was saying “I need a hug,” or maybe that was just how I was feeling. In any case, I scooped her up in my arms, she licked my face, and it felt even better than a hug.
“Cute,” Alyssa said, and she didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. And Kiara reached over and patted Fifi on the head.
Mom was laughing. “Come on in, girls,” she said.
By the time we’d taken off our coats, Mami was coming out of the kitchen with a tray of mini-taco shells piled high and all the fixings to stuff them with.
“I hope you’re hungry!” she sang out.
Once we were all settled at the dining room table, I asked Mom how her first day alone with Fifi had gone.
“It was fine! She stayed out of my way while I was working. Then, when she needed a walk, it was exactly at the moment I needed a break.”
“So you liked having her around,” I said, and Mom nodded.
“I do too,” Mami said. “I’m so happy to finally have a dog.”
Mom gave her a warning look. “Cecilia…”
“I know,” Mami sighed. “We may not be able to keep her. But I checked the online community board today, and still no one has posted a note about her.”
“I don’t suppose you girls heard about any classmate at school missing a dog?” Mom asked.
We all shook our heads. Fortunately, Kiara didn’t find it necessary to tell her that the only classmates we ever spoke to were each other.
“Are you kids going to make up the flyers or posters to put up around town?” Mom asked me.
I made an “mmm” sound which could mean anything.
Fifi began running around the table, pausing by each of us and looking up longingly.
“I think someone wants to play,” Mom said.
We’d sufficiently stuffed ourselves at that point, so my friends and I put our coats back on and Fifi followed us out the back door. Immediately, she spotted a squirrel and tore after it. We watched as the squirrel scurried up a tree and Fifi looked up at it. The squirrel ran down the other side of the tree, and Fifi took off again.
“What do you think she’d do if she caught the squirrel?” Alyssa asked me. “Bite it?”
“No! She doesn’t even want to catch it. She just likes the chase.”
Kiara frowned. “How can you possibly know what she wants?”
“I just do,” I replied simply. “I can feel it. We have a connection.”
“You’ve only had her for a day,” Alyssa pointed out.
I smiled. “But I feel like I’ve had her forever. Like, I don’t know, like we just belong together.”
“Then how are you going to feel when her owner shows up and claims her?” Alyssa asked.
My smile disappeared. “If. If the owner shows up.”
“She’s a very good-looking dog,” Kiara said. “I can’t believe someone isn’t searching for her.”
“Well, whoever that someone is, they can’t be looking very hard,” Alyssa declared. “They haven’t posted anything online or put up lost dog notices.” She looked at me seriously. “Rachel… don’t put up any posters, and don’t hand out flyers.”
I bit my lower lip and turned to her. “Really?”
“Anyone who loses a dog like that doesn’t deserve her,” Alyssa stated flatly.
Of course, the same thought had already crossed my mind, but I tried to be fair. “Maybe they didn’t lose her. Maybe Fifi ran away.”
“Then that person couldn’t have been very nice, if Fifi wanted to escape from them.”
“Maybe… maybe Fifi was just feeling adventurous and wanted to explore,” I said. “And then she got lost.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes, which I secretly appreciated.
I fell silent for a moment and considered Alyssa’s suggestion.
Kiara spoke. “But you have to make flyers.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Didn’t you just tell your mother you’d do exactly that?”
“Well… not really,” I said. “She asked me if we were going to make posters and flyers. And I didn’t really answer.’”
“So she didn’t say she would,” Alyssa told Kiara, and then turned to me. “Is your mom the type who asks you a million times to do something?”
“No.”
“Then maybe she’ll just think you did it.”
“A lie of omission?” I asked.
And two heads bobbed in unison.
I HAD PUSHED THE STUDENT REPRESENTATIVE nomination out of my head so well, I made it through the rest of the afternoon without thinking about it. Having Fifi around helped a lot—she got all my attention and she chased all the bad feelings away.
But I wrote about the nomination in my diary that evening.
I can’t be angry at Kiara, that’s just the way she is. She doesn’t understand the way I am.
I lifted the pen. Did any of my friends understand the way I am? How could they, when I don’t really understand myself? I started writing again.
And besides, what do I really have to worry about, anyway? It’s not like I have any chance of being elected student rep. If there are other people, besides the sisterhood, who really don’t like Paige, they’ll vote for David Tolliver. He’s new—I don’t know anything about him, and maybe nobody else does. But he can’t be as bad as Paige. So Paige will win, David will come in second. The only votes I’ll get will come from my three friends. Actually, only two of them—Alyssa probably won’t even bother to vote, since she always refuses to do anything at school that isn’t absolutely mandatory. And since I don’t want to be a student rep, losing won’t be a disappointment.
I stopped and thought about this. There was still something to be afraid of, especially if the number of votes each candidate got was announced: people feeling sorry for me. Or worse—people making fun of me. Ridiculing me. Teasing me. How does it feel to be a loser, Rachel? Why did you run when you knew you couldn’t win? I’d made it halfway through middle school practically invisible to my classmates, and in spite of the good feeling I’d had at Ellie’s the day before, I wanted to keep it that way. There were much worse things than being invisible.
I’d witnessed that firsthand last year, in sixth grade, with a sort-of friend of mine, Hailey. I called her a sort-of friend because we only saw each other at school. We had three classes together, and seating assignments put us side by side in two of them, so we’d chat a little before and after classes, mostly just about school, homework, teachers, that sort of thing. We didn’t have the same lunch period, and we never hung out together after school, so I can’t say we knew each other very well. Still, we liked each other.
But Hailey suddenly got it in her head that she wanted to become part of the popular crowd. She started copying the way they dressed and went out of her way to compliment them on a hairstyle, shoes, a bracelet, whatever. And when they gathered in hallways between classes, she hovered at the edge of the group and tried to get in on the conversation.
I observed this, in the halls and in the classes we had together, and it was easy to see that they didn’t want her around. At first, they just ignored her, but when she persisted, they weren’t nice to her at all. Once, I found her crying in the restroom. She told me she’d tried to sit at their table in the cafeteria, but even though there were several empty seats, one of Paige’s friends had told her they were all saved. But when lunch was over, the seats were still empty.
I tried to comfort her. I told her these girls weren’t worth crying over, but I couldn’t convince her. And it got worse for her—there was name-calling, and mean rumors were spread. Someone would walk by her in the cafeteria and “accidentally” spill a carton of milk on her lunch. Her clothes were hidden in the gym locker room. Finally, Hailey just stopped showing up. A teacher announced in one of our classes that she’d transferred to another school, and some girls laughed.
It was always a puzzle to me why Hailey would want to be with people who didn’t want her around. It’s so much easier to be alone. And I didn’t mind eating by myself in the cafeteria. Of course, it’s much nicer for me now, having lunch with Ellie and Alyssa and Kiara. Sometimes I worry about next year in eighth grade, when we might not have the same lunch period. But I would never do what Hailey did and try to get into a group that might not want to be friends with me.
I closed my diary and got into bed. Fifi left her pillow and joined me. And with one gentle lick to my face, she wiped away all my fears.
When I arrived in homeroom Wednesday morning, Paige was passing out buttons that read I LIKE PAIGE! They were big and shiny with her name in red letters on a white background. I couldn’t believe she’d gotten them made up so fast. As she walked down the rows of seats, she paused by mine and started to hand one to me. Then she said, “Oops, I don’t think you want one,” and pulled her hand back. Naturally, there were a few giggles. I slunk down in my seat.
But I heard her say, “I guess you don’t want one either, David.” I looked to see his reaction.
“You guessed right,” he said. Then he looked directly at me. He grinned and rolled his eyes, even more dramatically than Alyssa does. And he added a little head shake, which gave it even more emphasis. It was like he was saying we were in this together. I supposed that was meant to make me feel better. But I didn’t want to be in this at all.
Mr. Greene came into the room. He saw what Paige was doing, and his brow furrowed.
“I’m not sure that’s permissible, Paige. You’ll have an opportunity to talk about your campaign, but you’ll need to check with the office about handing out campaign materials.” Then the bell rang.
“After class,” he added, and Paige smiled brightly in response.
I noticed she didn’t nod or say yes, though, to confirm that she would ask about the rules. A lie of omission?
Mr. Greene took attendance, and then the usual announcements about practices and permission slips and club meetings were made over the intercom. When that was finished, Mr. Greene spoke again.
“I understand we have all three of the nominees for seventh-grade student representative here in this homeroom! I thought maybe you folks would like to use the rest of the period as an opportunity to tell the class what you plan to do if you’re elected.”
My stomach turned over. Paige’s hand shot up.
“All right, Paige, you can go first, and then we’ll hear from David and Rachel.”
I could only hope that meant I’d go third. And maybe Paige and David would take up so much time, I wouldn’t have to speak at all.
Paige strolled up to the front of the class. As much as I disliked her, I had to admit she looked awfully good in her high-waisted black jeans, short red sweater, and black-and-red-striped headband. She did her usual hair toss, flashed a smile, and began.
“Okay, everyone, you should choose me as your student representative because I have great plans for the seventh grade! First of all, I’m going to change the rules about what we can wear.”
I immediately thought of what Alyssa had suggested about Paige requiring every girl to wear a headband. I covered my mouth so no one would see me smile, and Paige looked in my direction.
“Oh, I see Rachel is shocked! Well, for those of us who are more fashion-conscious, you’ll be happy to hear this. You know how the administration doesn’t let us wear T-shirts with slogans on them? That is so stupid! They let kids wear T-shirts with the names of sports teams, why not other words? We should be allowed to express ourselves any way we want, right?”
Her friends nodded vigorously.
“And I’m going to make some changes in gym class. Why do we have to run around and do dumb exercises like jumping jacks? And no more volleyball, please. It’s boring! Also, why can’t we do yoga? And we should have Pilates!”
“What’s Pilates?” someone asked.
“Oh, it’s this great type of exercise, you don’t have to move all that much but it gets you super-toned. My mother does it and she looks amazing! For you people who are feeling a little weak, how about a weight lifting studio? You guys could get some muscles.”
“Very interesting, Paige,” Mr. Greene said. “And now—”
But Paige wasn’t finished, and she acted like she hadn’t heard him. “And what about improving our social life? Did you know that the eighth grade is going to start having dances, just like at the high school? They’re already planning one for spring, with a DJ and everything! They’re just one year older than us. Why can’t we have dances too?”
This comment actually brought forth applause from some girls. The boys looked less interested.
Mr. Greene broke in. “I think that’s enough, Paige. David, would you like to speak next?”
I’d never paid any attention to David Tolliver before, so even though I was nervous, I was still interested in what he had to say. I didn’t know if he was in any of the cliques at school, but I was very sure he wasn’t one of the popular guys. His hair was long, pulled back in a ponytail—definitely not a cool look at East Lakeside. And he didn’t wear the fancy sneakers most of the boys wore—he had on hiking boots.
He walked confidently to the front of the room.
“Good morning, classmates,” he said in a kind of formal way. “I am a candidate for seventh-grade student representative, and I really should be taking this opportunity to tell you about my platform.”
“Your what?” someone yelled out.
Mr. Greene frowned at the student, but David replied smoothly.
“My principles and objectives, what I would do for you if I win this election. However, I haven’t had the time to establish these concepts firmly. Since other representative
s have tried to provide less homework and longer lunch periods with no success, I can tell you right now that I won’t be promising that. As for the improvements I would recommend, I will need to give this more thought. Thank you.”
And he went back to his seat.
Mr. Greene looked up at the clock. “There are only a few minutes left before first period, and Rachel deserves a chance to speak too. Rachel?”
I couldn’t breathe. Stall for time, I told myself. “Yes?”
“Come on up and tell us what you’d want to do as student rep.”
“Um, I’m not sure. Yet.”
Mr. Greene smiled kindly. “Okay. But you and David want to be thinking about this. You three candidates will have to make presentations at the next seventh-grade assembly on Monday.”
I didn’t know anything about this. And the horror must have shown on my face, because a couple of people were looking at me in fear, like they thought I might throw up. Which I pretty much felt like doing.
“Rachel, David, Paige, you’ll learn more about this tomorrow,” Mr. Greene continued. “The candidates are invited to join a meeting with Mr. Lowell and the committee members during homeroom period, to give you an idea of what’s expected of a student representative. That includes attending meetings, which take place during the homeroom period once a month.”
That certainly wasn’t anything to look forward to either, and my stomach continued to churn.
The awful feeling stayed with me all morning. Even thinking about Fifi couldn’t raise my spirits. If I couldn’t even get up in front of the homeroom class, how could I stand on a stage in front of the entire seventh grade? I could feel myself trembling, as if I was already there.
My friends were standing just outside the door when I arrived for English, but no one noticed my mood. Alyssa and Kiara were listening to Ellie talk about the detention experience and being grounded.
“Detention was no big deal, I held a book on my lap under the table and the monitor didn’t even notice. At home, I didn’t complain, I kept apologizing, and I swore up and down that this would never happen again. I made a banana bread, which is Dad’s absolute favorite. And I walked around looking so sad that I think my parents started to feel sorry for me. So even though I’m still grounded, they said I can have friends come over. Spyglass after school today, girls!”