by Rachel Wise
“Gregory Toms,” said Michael. “I thought you knew it was him.”
“Why would Gregory Toms want my attention?” asked Hailey. Greg is one of the best-looking guys in our grade and superpopular.
Michael knocked on Hailey’s head. “Hello? Anyone home? He probably likes you!”
Hailey blushed and smiled a shy smile that she tried to hide. “So he teased me because he likes me?”
“Yeah. Why do you think I always call Sam Pasty?” said Michael with a mischievous grin.
We all laughed like it was a joke, but inside I prayed it was true.
“Look, Hails, everyone knows how awesome you are. You’re funny, cute, superathletic Hailey . . . ,” I said.
“. . . who we all now know is afraid of creepy-crawly things at the movies!” Michael concluded.
“And who we want to run for school VP with Anthony Wright!” I added.
Hailey smiled, and we all got chatting about it. Pretty soon it was time for us to head out for our pickup by Hailey’s dad. Jenna and Kristen went first and were waiting for us outside Scoops as we said good-bye to the boys.
“Eek!” annoying Jeff Perry called after us as we left.
“Can it, Perry!” I called back. “I’m Secret Service, and that’s my client you’re making fun of!” And then Hailey and I laughed and laughed as we headed out.
Chapter 8
BEST FRIEND IRRELEVANT WHEN CAMPAIGN BUG BITES
As soon as I got home Friday night, I Googled Anthony and found the mugger article. It was an impressive story and gave a new dimension to him that people wouldn’t normally know about. Never mind centipedes, this guy really was a warrior.
I organized a weekend training session between Allie and Anthony for Sunday afternoon. I decided to ask Hailey to come over at the same time, just to be around while Anthony was there and thinking about the campaign. She could introduce herself and maybe he’d just ask her to be his VP. I filled her in on all of his ideas and she thought they were awesome. She got roaming around the Internet and had a list of foundations that might give grants to our school for programs as well as a short list of a few other cool ideas that sounded like they’d be interesting to Anthony.
I’d honestly never seen Hailey so jazzed for something before (something that didn’t involve sneakers and sweating, anyway), and I was happy for her. I really, really hoped he’d pick her.
Allie had been eager to help, as I’d known she would be. There’s nothing Allie loves more than a makeover, and since she hadn’t really done one with a boy before, she was very excited about it. “I know his brother Jerome,” she said. “He’s a math genius. It’s a known fact.” Allie was impressed with these guys, and it’s not that easy to impress her. (She’s usually too busy tweeting or texting or Buddybooking or using some other media that hasn’t even been named yet. She’ll probably volunteer to be one of the guinea pigs when they figure out how to implant cell phones in our brains or something.) Anyway, she got online and started researching public speaking tips and how to make a good campaign speech. It was right up her alley. I bet she’ll work in publicity when she grows up. She’d be darn good at it.
Anthony came over right after lunch on Sunday and was really charming with my mom, who I could tell was impressed by his manners and his maturity. Hailey showed up shortly after, and she and I sat in the kitchen and tried to eavesdrop on Allie and Anthony, who were working in my mom’s office downstairs.
It was a little boring for me after a while, so I tried to make conversation. “So Gregory Toms, huh?” I said.
“Shh!” said Hailey, leaning out of her chair to listen in.
If Hailey didn’t want to discuss the fact that Gregory Toms might like her, then something serious was going on. I went to get my notebook and start mapping out my profiles of the two candidates. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do while she eavesdropped.
Best Friend Irrelevant When Campaign Bug Bites.
I lined up my person-on-the-street interview quotes for each boy, as well as the articles I’d printed out from the school archives. Then I pulled out my transcripts from the interviews themselves.
I felt like I’d started the process being very for John Scott but ended up being for Anthony Wright instead. I knew a lot of people would feel the same way, if they could just get the opportunity to know Anthony better. I hoped Allie’s strategy for him would include a Buddybook page where they could list all his achievements and link the article on the mugging.
Suddenly there was a shriek from my mom’s office. Allie.
“What’s wrong?” I called down the stairs.
“Samantha Martone! Come see this right now!” she yelled. Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good.
Hailey and I bolted down the stairs two at a time and found them in front of a Buddybook page. They’d done a search for photos tagged with Anthony’s name, and the photo filling the screen was the first to come up.
It was the photo Jeff Perry had taken of me and Anthony during our interview at the Java Stop on Friday night. But it didn’t look like an interview. It looked like a date. Our heads were so close together across the table, it looked like we were about to kiss, and I had an ecstatic look on my face and Anthony was smiling expectantly. It was actually a great shot, if only what it implied were true.
“Wow,” I said.
“What the heck?” asked Hailey, looking at me and then Anthony in confusion.
Anthony laughed awkwardly. “Did they Photoshop that?” he asked in an embarrassed voice.
Allie just glared at me.
The caption under the photo said, “Is romance blooming on the campaign trail?”
I turned on my heel and stormed up the stairs to get the phone book.
I flipped to the Perrys’ number and punched it into the phone so hard my fingertip hurt. Then I stood, tapping my foot impatiently until someone picked up.
“Hi, is Jeff there, please?” I said firmly.
“No, I’m sorry, he’s not. May I take a message?” I think it was his mom.
I gave an annoyed sigh. “Yes. Please tell him Samantha Martone called and that I am not amused. He needs to take the photo down immediately.”
“Okay. Will he know what this is in reference to?” asked his mom with a long-suffering sigh. She was pretty used to these calls, I’m sure. Jeff has a real thing for posting all kinds of trouble-causing photos online.
“Yes!” I snarled. “And thank you,” I added in a nicer tone of voice, and I hung up the phone hard.
I stood in the kitchen and fumed for a minute. I could imagine how it felt to be a real politician, or a celebrity, when misleading pictures of you are printed all the time. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. It was the injustice of it all that got to me.
Back downstairs, Allie had untagged the photo, so at least it wouldn’t come up in a search. Then Hailey had instructed them to contact Buddybook to have the photo taken down in the meantime, which I didn’t know you could do, and things were well on their way to being resolved. At least Hailey had had a moment to shine in a crisis.
I stared at the photo. “That’s right when I had the idea for Anthony to work with you, Allie,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Yeah, right,” said Allie, rolling her eyes.
“It’s true, actually,” agreed Anthony, and Allie softened.
“Well, at least you two look excited about it, so I guess I’m flattered,” she said.
“Compliments come in the strangest ways,” said Hailey knowingly. “Trust me.”
I smiled.
Hailey swallowed hard, screwing up her courage, I could see; then she began asking Anthony pointed questions about his campaign platform. Allie joined in, and I left the three of them brainstorming, knowing that when I came back, there’d probably be a new VP candidate in town.
Upstairs, I had three IMs from Michael. The first one was kind of jokey. It said:
Saw the photo online of you and the next prez. Cozy.
The next one
said:
It’s all over Cherry Valley. Are you two a thing?
The third one said:
Sam, call me please.
I gulped and sat back in my desk chair. Michael calls me Sam only when he’s serious or upset. This could be either. Or both. I drummed my fingers on my desk and tried to work up my courage to call Michael. Just then the phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I ran into the upstairs hall to answer it, but Allie had already picked up. It was Jeff Perry. By the time she was done shouting at him, I didn’t even need to speak to him. I just gingerly hung up the receiver and stood there with a small smile on my face. Luckily, Jeff Perry has an ego the size of an RV, so Allie’s dressing-down wouldn’t mortally wound him. He’d just take it in stride and look for the next opportunity to create chaos with a photo. And that’s why he’ll make a great paparazzo one day.
I lifted the receiver again and sighed in relief when I heard the dial tone. With shaky fingers and a dry mouth, I dialed Michael’s number (yes, people, I know it by heart) and prayed he wouldn’t answer. But he did. On the first ring.
“Hello?” he said.
“Michael?” I said.
“Sam,” he said, sounding serious. “What’s up?”
“Well . . . a lot? I guess?”
He sighed heavily. “Are you . . . ? I mean . . . Do you . . . ?”
“I don’t like Anthony Wright like that,” I blurted. “I am impressed by him, but it’s not romantic. Jeff snapped that photo right at the end of the interview as I was pitching the idea of Allie helping him with his image. You can ask Anthony if you don’t believe me.”
There was a heavy silence at the other end of the phone.
“Hello?” I said.
“Yeah,” said Michael dejectedly.
“What, are you bummed that I don’t like him?” I said, laughing nervously. “What’s up?”
“No, I just . . .”
“Not impartial enough for you?” I joked.
“Something like that,” said Michael with a humorless laugh.
There was an awkward silence. I was dying to tell him I’d never like anyone else, but I was too scared and shy. Anyway, I wanted him to be the first to say it.
“Look . . .” “I . . .” We both spoke at the same time.
“So . . . um, are we all set for lunch on Monday?” I asked.
“Sure,” said Michael in relief. “Yes. That sounds great.”
“Okay then,” I said. “Let’s work on merging our rough drafts tomorrow, then we can divide it up for the final draft. We might need to meet after school on Wednesday just to finalize.”
“Sounds good. Later, Paste,” he said.
“Later, Mikey,” I said, and smiled at the phone after I hung it up.
I sat at my computer and worked on my rough drafts for the interviews for about an hour; then I went to see what was up at campaign headquarters. The three of them had rolled up their sleeves and were working on Anthony’s speech, and Allie was showing him how to stand and how to move as he delivered it and made his important points. It was pretty impressive that she just knows this stuff intuitively. I forgot she was my sister for a second and just stood watching her in her element. She was also counseling him on opening with a joke. She said it would be best if it wasn’t scripted, but rather spontaneous. Something he could work in from the day’s news or something that happened. Anthony seemed scared and frustrated by this idea, since he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
“I’m not very funny . . . ,” he was saying.
“I am!” Hailey replied.
Then Allie saw me and said, “Sam, can you go make popcorn and get us some drinks or something? We’re running out of steam down here.”
“Please?” added Anthony.
“Please,” said Allie, with an eye roll.
“Sure,” I said, smiling at Anthony.
“The photo’s down!” Hailey called after me.
“Phew!” I replied.
I had to admit that I felt a little left out. I mean, I was the one who’d set this whole thing up, and now I was fetching them snacks and stuff? It seemed a little lame, especially since I’d briefly considered running for VP myself just two days ago. Easy come, easy go, I thought. But were politics really my thing? I wasn’t sure they were Hailey’s, either, to be honest, but she seemed gung ho to try. They were certainly Anthony’s thing. And John Scott’s, just in a very different way. After reviewing my notes and working on the articles, I could see that John Scott was really in it for the glory of the office, and maybe not because he really wanted to do the work, while Anthony was the opposite.
The popcorn finished popping, and I took it out carefully and poured it into a bowl. I got a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge and three glasses; then I did two trips down to the office to bring it to them.
“What are you up to now?” asked Hailey as they took a snack break.
“Working on my stories for the paper,” I said.
Hailey sighed. “You’re so lucky you get to do what you love for school.”
“Well, you do too with soccer,” I said.
“It’s different, though. Soccer’s not really ‘school,’ ” said Hailey.
“In Ancient Greece and Rome, athletics were considered a huge and important part of life at school. The athletes were the leaders, and they even called their schools ‘gymnasiums,’ ” offered Anthony.
“Hmm, that kind of sounds familiar from history class in fourth grade,” I said.
“See, that’s just the kind of comment that’s going to not get you elected, Anthony,” said Allie wryly. “Rein in the intellectualism and pump up the charm—remember, pal? Just until you get elected; then you can go all nerdy again, okay?” She smiled at him. I couldn’t believe she could get away with the way she spoke to people, but they really listened to her.
Hailey was smiling at her adoringly, of course, and I wanted to puke.
“Can’t wait to see the speech,” I said to Anthony.
“It’s this Friday!” he said with a nervous smile.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be ready,” said Allie grimly.
“Go get ’em, tiger!” I said to her.
“Now back to the spontaneous joke,” Allie said with a determined look on her face.
“Good luck,” I whispered to the candidates as I tiptoed back out of the room.
Impartial Journalist Fired from Paper.
Oh boy.
Chapter 9
POLITICS TOO DIRTY, JOURNO RETIRES TO SPORTS PAGES
Lunch on Monday with Michael was good. We were uneasy at first, but once we started talking about our articles, we found an easy rhythm and all the weirdness of the weekend evaporated, thank goodness.
We went over the drafts of our articles to see how we could best merge them, and we made notations all over the pages. Then he took the one on John Scott and I took the one on Anthony Wright, and we laid out our plans for the rewrites. They were due Thursday morning, so we still had a little time. The paper would come out Friday. The results of our Buddybook poll showed John Scott leading about 75 percent to Anthony Wright’s 25 percent. I was worried but working hard—maybe too hard—to keep my articles neutral.
The posters started appearing Tuesday:
JOHN SCOTT
the People’s Choice
for
School President
SARA WELGAN
for
Vice President
Sara Welgan was a good choice on John’s part. She was smart and pretty and was a math tutor after school. So she was well known among the student body.
And:
Vote for the WRIGHT Candidate!
Anthony Wright for School President
Hailey Jones for Vice President
They were everywhere, and people were really starting to buzz about them. Anthony had the brilliant idea to put a photo of himself and Hailey on his poster, which gave them an identity boost immediately. I heard kids saying, “Oh, that’
s Anthony Wright,” as they looked at the posters in the hall. I was happy to see that they’d used my line in his poster too. Writing talent was certainly useful in a campaign, but more behind the scenes than in front, I guess.
Hailey was in her element too, as it turned out. It reminded me of the Dear Know-It-All letter from College Reject and my feelings about spending time doing what you love being good for your soul. Hailey was actually blossoming with all the campaigning. She was jazzed and talking a mile a minute about what she and Anthony could do to help the school. I was really impressed—and proud. She’d stand outside the cafeteria at lunch and hand out leaflets about their campaign platform and some of their ideas. Anthony had embraced all of Hailey’s ideas and worked a few of them into his materials in a seamless way. They were an unlikely team, but they actually complemented each other really well. I was psyched for both of them.
But Tuesday afternoon, when Hailey came over to do homework with me, she was upset.
“What’s wrong?” I said when I answered the door and saw the tears streaming down her face.
She wailed, “Everyone’s teasing me about the centipede!”
“Whaaaat?”
She pulled away and nodded. “Everyone keeps saying, ‘Eek!’ when they see me.” She sniffled dramatically.
I fought off a smile that was trying to bloom on my face. “Oh, Hails,” I said sympathetically.
“I’ll never live it down!” she cried, and flopped on the couch.
I sat down next to her and thought hard. Then I said, “Hailey, I know what to do. Sit up. Listen.”
She sat up and rolled her eyes, but she listened.
“You need to embrace it. You need to style yourself a Centipede Warrior. You need to laugh when kids say ‘Eek!’ to you. It’s the only way. Otherwise you become a victim. Get it?”
Hailey was quiet for a minute. Then she sighed heavily. “Whatever. I’m such a loser. Anthony Wright should get rid of me while he still can. I’ll bring him down.”
“Hailey! Don’t be a wimp; be a warrior! Come on! It’s up to you how you handle it. Now, let’s go get a snack and you’ll feel better, okay?”