Once Laz was settled in the chair, Ms. Perdomo cleared her throat and said, “I’ve called you both in to hear the news from me first, in case there are any tears.”
Laz laughed out loud at this, but Ms. Perdomo shot him a stern look and he stopped. Celia was sure now that she had lost the election. This kind of move on Ms. Perdomo’s part was clearly directed at her, not at Laz. She tried to make herself feel better by thinking back to hanging out with Mari that weekend and by remembering that they were tighter than ever for having gotten through all the election craziness together.
At least she’d gotten over her crush on Laz thanks to the campaign. She never had to think about him again, except that she’d be hearing him on the morning announcements a lot more now that he was seventh grade rep. But she’d get used to it. Another bright side: She’d gotten to meet and talk to a lot more of Coral Grove’s students than ever before—like Raul. In fact, it was through Laz that she’d come to appreciate Raul and his campaigning smarts.
“As you both know,” Ms. Perdomo went on, “the votes were tallied over the weekend. I have the results here.”
She held up an already opened envelope.
Celia actually felt relieved that this would all be over with soon. Maybe Laz would ask for her input on things. She could still work to get her ideas heard; there was no reason this had to be the end of Celia’s involvement with politics and student government. Besides, she always had science to fall back on, and that wasn’t a bad place to be. Maybe now that the campaign was over, she could embrace her nerd-dom the way Mari had embraced her drama persona.
Just as Celia decided she had enough positive arguments for losing the election to keep herself from crying in front of Laz, Ms. Perdomo looked at her and said, “Congratulations, Celia.”
She honestly thought her ears were stuffed with something, because Laz jumped in the air and said, “Yes!” But then he froze and stared at Ms. Perdomo with the same shock that was all over her own face.
“You mean Lazaro, right?” Celia said, believing, as Laz did, that he’d won.
Ms. Perdomo shook her head no.
Laz sat back in the chair, one hand on each of the armrests. He was clearly stunned, but was trying not to show it.
“It was a very close race,” Ms. Perdomo said, “but Celia, you won. Your classmates voted you their official seventh grade representative.” She could tell that Ms. Perdomo was holding back a smile to spare Laz’s feelings. “It was, as I said, a very close race. Lazaro, I congratulate you on running an interesting and engaging campaign.”
Celia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. For the first time in Coral Grove Middle School’s recent history, a certifiable nerd had just won a popularity contest. And that nerd was her! So it was possible! She couldn’t believe she had doubted the voters—and herself—as much as she had.
“Celia, why are you crying?” she heard Laz say.
She reached up to her face and realized that she was, in fact, crying—she was just so shocked and happy, she was crying tears of joy. She jumped up from her chair and hugged Laz, who stood to keep Celia from falling on top of him.
“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” she heard herself saying. She felt like she was watching herself on TV. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they voted for me!”
Laz returned the hug despite looking like the air had just been sucked out of him. Now that Laz’s back was to her, Ms. Perdomo gave Celia a huge, toothy grin and a double thumbs-up. But then she caught herself and slapped her own hand for revealing who she’d been rooting for all along.
“I’ve got to submit these results to the principal for them to be official,” Ms. Perdomo said as she rose from her desk. “Once he signs off on them, we can make the announcement to the whole school. I just wanted you both to hear them first—I’ll be right back!” As she left the room, she saw Ms. Perdomo doing a little celebratory dance in the hallway.
Once Celia freed Laz from her victory hug, he said softly, “I can’t believe this.”
“I know, it’s like a miracle!” she squealed back. “This is so awesome!”
He wrinkled his eyebrows at her, the dark furry lines looking sad and defeated. She suddenly remembered what her winning meant for him.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
She lowered her head and playfully slugged him in the shoulder. She felt so much more comfortable around him now that she just thought of him as a friend.
He gave her a shrug and said, “It’s okay. I kind of knew the minute the debate was over that you would make a better representative than me, anyway.” He was trying to stay cool, but Celia saw in the way he slumped forward a little that he really was disappointed. She smiled at the compliment. “Raul thought so, too,” Laz added.
The memory of Raul flailing his arms from the audience just before the debate flashed in her head. She said gently, “I saw him in the front row trying to get your attention right before the debate started. What was all that about?”
“Oh. That,” Laz said. She could tell that he was deliberating in his head whether to tell her the truth or not. He let out a long breath and sat back in the chair.
“The truth is,” he finally said, “at first he wanted me to protest the debate and refuse to continue because, you know, it was supposed to be Mari up there, not you.”
Celia slowly lowered herself back into her chair. “That’s smart of him,” she admitted. Raul’s quick thinking kind of amazed her. “That’s really smart. You totally would have had the right to do that. Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He was staring at Ms. Perdomo’s empty chair. “I didn’t think of it until after he told me, but even if I’d known I could do that, I guess I just wanted to debate you. In a way, I was happy it was you, ‘cause you’re, like, the toughest person to beat. I wanted to prove myself by facing you, I guess.”
Celia was so flattered she knew she must have been blushing. Laz said, “Don’t let that go to your head, now. It’s not like I had a lot of time to make that choice. Besides, Raul changed his mind after he heard your apology.”
That’s when Celia remembered another apology she’d meant to give.
“I’m sorry you didn’t know until that second,” she said. “I came clean to Ms. Perdomo that morning, and there wasn’t any time for me to—”
“No, I totally understand,” Laz said. His eyes flickered with recognition. “I’m not saying anything, but I sort of understand what you guys were going through.” A shy look came over his face, but he rushed past it. “I wasn’t so into the idea myself at first, but Raul…he kind of—helped—me with my campaign. In fact, it was kind of his idea I run in the first place.”
Celia froze in her seat, suddenly realizing that she and Raul, who was unfairly known in school as little more than Laz’s sidekick, may have had the same idea about wanting to run, just with different results. Celia seemed to have more in common with Raul than she first thought—no wonder she’d felt close to him ever since that day on the basketball courts! She decided right then on a new plan, one that made everything up to Mariela and Laz (and maybe even Raul).
She turned to Laz, who was still contemplating the empty desk chair, and said, “How would you and Raul like to join me and Mariela for ice cream after school? My treat.”
He gave her the first real smile she’d seen from him all morning. Celia imagined the same smile on Mariela’s face once she heard the election results—and their after-school celebration plans.
“That would be sweet,” Laz said. “I know Raul will be down, too. He thinks you’re pretty amazing. Don’t tell him I told you that.”
Celia gasped. She felt her heart speed up and her hands tingle. She thought back to that day at the basketball courts when she’d “accidentally bonded” with Raul, of the way he’d blushed when he saw her in the main office on the day of the candidate speeches, of the way he’d stared at her from the edge o
f his seat during the debate. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Meet me by our palm tree?” she joked, finally figuring out how to make Laz laugh without simultaneously being mean to him.
There was a knock behind them. Both of them turned to see Ms. Perdomo and the principal poke in through the door.
“No carnage?” Ms. Perdomo said. “Excellent. We’re about to make the morning announcements, so Laz, if you want to hide out here, that’s totally up to you.”
“No thanks, Ms. Perdomo, I’m good.” He turned to Celia and said, “I want to be in homeroom when we get the great news that Celia is our rep.”
Celia slugged him in the shoulder again, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. “He’s done crying, anyway,” she joked to Ms. Perdomo.
They all laughed as Laz slipped out of the room, waving good-bye and winking at Celia as he left.
“I’ll see you over by the PA system,” the principal said as he shook her hand. “I’m cutting the Proclamations down a bit today to give us time to announce your victory.”
“Thank you, sir,” Celia said.
“You’re very welcome,” he said, saluting her. He walked away, stopping at the front desk to pick up his notes.
Ms. Perdomo bumped her hip into Celia’s side, knocking her over a little. She regained her balance just as Ms. Perdomo said, “Are you ready, Ms. Representative?”
Celia looked up at her and smiled, nodding eagerly. Ms. Representative, she thought, I definitely like the sound of that.
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Ice Dreams
by Lisa Papademetriou
Another Candy Apple Book…Just For You.
“What about this one?” My little sister, Amelia, held up a photograph of a woman with short hair puffed into spikes.
“She looks like an exotic cactus,” I told her.
“Rosa! That’s the point!” Amelia huffed and kicked her legs against her chair. Her toes barely scraped the salon’s pale wood floor. “I want to make a statement!”
“A statement like, ‘I’m wearing a colorful blowfish on my head’?” I asked her. “Is that really how you want to start school here?”
Amelia huffed again. Grumbling, she turned the page. “Ooooh!” Her eyes lit up.
Our mother appeared and frowned down at the photo Amelia was admiring. Blond hair with pink tips. “Not appropriate for fourth grade,” Mom announced.
With a dramatic sigh, Amelia shut the hairstyle book and placed it back on the table, along with the other portfolios.
“You have gorgeous hair, Amelia,” Mom told her. “You don’t need a crazy cut or wild color.”
“I’m sick of my hair!” Amelia wailed dramatically. She tossed her long, jet black locks over her shoulder and pretended to fuss with it, as if it had been causing a ruckus on her head.
“Fine, you can tell it to the stylist,” Mom said.
“Ms. Hernandez?” The receptionist, Renee, smiled at my mother. “Angela is ready.”
“Rosa, you’re next,” Mom told me as she took Amelia by the hand.
“Is there anything I can get you while you wait?” Renee asked me. “We have juice, tea, seltzer water, or hot cocoa.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I told her. “I’ve got my glass of water.”
“Just let me know if you need anything,” Renee said before retreating to her desk.
I sat back in the plush leather chair and flipped through a celebrity magazine. Sometimes, the way people treated me in my mom’s salons made me a little uncomfortable. It was bad enough when we lived in Miami, and she was southeast regional director for the Athena brand. But now they’d made her executive vice president and moved us to Chicago. When Amelia and I showed up for our haircuts, Mom let it drop that she was a bigwig from Corporate. Now everyone was falling all over themselves for our sake. But I didn’t need cocoa and a chair massage—all I wanted was a trim. I had to start a new school the next day, and I didn’t want to look raggedy.
I flipped another page, checking out the reviews of a couple of new movies, when I heard someone say, “Ex-cuse me? Are you kidding?”
I looked up and saw Renee blushing madly. “I’m sorry, there’s been a mix-up, and someone is scheduled against your appointment.”
A girl with gorgeous strawberry blond curls was standing in front of the reception desk, her arms folded across her chest. She looked like she was about my age. A woman with light brown hair placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Look, we made an appointment for my daughter, and we expect you to honor it.” Her voice had an edge.
“What’s the name again?” Renee asked.
“Jacqueline Darcy,” the girl said.
Renee shook her head as she flipped through the calendar. “I don’t see your name…”
“Isn’t another stylist available?” her mother demanded.
“I’m sorry, but we’re all booked—”
“Is there a problem here?” my mother asked as she strode up to reception. She had on dark jeans and a T-shirt with a bright red cardigan, but somehow managed to look Very Official. Maybe it was the way she walked. “How can I help you?”
“There was a mistake in the booking, and this girl’s appointment got bumped,” Renee explained to my mother.
Mom didn’t go ballistic. She just nodded. “Well, luckily, that problem is easily fixed. She can take Rosa’s appointment.”
I looked at the girl. Honestly, her hair looked great—she didn’t even need a haircut. Still, I knew my mother’s motto: “Even when the customer is wrong, they’re right.” I just sighed. “No problem.”
Jacqueline smiled gratefully at me. “Thank you so much! I’ve got this really important presentation tomorrow, and I want to look decent.”
Very important presentation? I wondered what that could possibly be, but decided not to ask. “Okay, well, good luck with that,” I told her.
Renee stood up. “Well, if you’d just follow me, Jacqueline…”
“Everyone calls me Jacqui.”
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Jacqui’s mother said, giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek.
“Thanks again!” Jacqui called as she followed Renee to the sinks.
I waved. Mom came over and pulled my long hair over my shoulder. “I’ll give you a trim when we get home,” she promised.
I gave her a dubious look. “You haven’t cut hair in ten years.”
Mom smiled. “Yeah, but I cut it for ten before that. I’ve still got the skills.”
Renee bustled back. “Ms. Hernandez, I swear to you that has never happened before—”
Mom nodded. “And we don’t want it to happen again.”
Renee straightened up, nodding seriously. “Never.”
“Happy customers are repeat customers,” Mom told her.
“Absolutely.”
Mom gave Renee a pat on the shoulder. “Great.”
Renee stepped back behind her desk. She looked like someone who had just avoided a prison sentence.
“Omigosh, what do you guys think?” Amelia appeared, flipping her hair dramatically from side to side, like a model in a shampoo commercial.
“Did you get it cut yet?” I asked her. Seriously, I couldn’t see a difference.
“Are you kidding?” Amelia looked shocked. “I got, like, half an inch lopped off!”
“Looks great, honey,” Mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Looks great.” But I couldn’t help smiling to myself a little. My best friend, Jessica, always used to refer to my little sister as a “Wannabe Drama Queen.” It was just so Amelia to walk into a salon, threaten to get pink hair, and then get the world’s most insignificant trim.
“Ooh, cool!” Amelia said as she bounced along on the bridge between the two ice-skating rinks.
“I know, two rinks!” I agreed warmly.
“No, I’m talking about the frozen yogurt place,” Amelia explained. “Mom, can I get some?”
Mom dug through her purse and pulled out
her red wallet. “Sure. Get me some, too. Anything chocolate. Rosa?”
“Vanilla and chocolate twist with chocolate sprinkles.”
“I’m getting chocolate with chocolate sprinkles,” Amelia announced.
We’re a family of chocolate fiends—can you tell? Mom handed Amelia a twenty-dollar bill, and she scurried off to get our orders. The ice rinks were at the center of the indoor mall, on the first level. People munched and watched the skaters zip by in an endless circle while pop music played over the loudspeakers. There were two levels overhead, and the ceiling was made of glass.
Mom and I went down a short flight of stairs to the large rink’s main entrance. A friendly woman with big hair and a big smile greeted us from behind a counter. “Hi! Welcome to Wilkinson Rinks! Do you need to rent some skates today?”
“Actually, I’m here to find out about skate classes,” Mom said.
“For you?” the woman asked.
“For me,” I piped up.
“And you are…?”
“I’m Rosa Hernandez.”
“I’m Opal Mission.” She smiled, revealing perfectly even teeth. “Have you ever skated before, Rosa?” She pulled out a full-color brochure.
“She’s won several awards,” Mom announced.
“Mo-om.” I rolled my eyes. “They were for the county—where we used to live. In Miami. It wasn’t some huge achievement.”
“Well, Miami’s a big city,” Ms. Mission said. “There must have been skaters.”
“Yeah, but—skating isn’t huge there,” I told her. “At least, not at the place I went to.”
Winner Takes All Page 10