Don't Vote for Me

by Krista Van Dolzer

  She folded her arms across her waist. “So what did they say?” she asked.

  He wiped his mouth off with his sleeve. “Most said that they’ll vote for Veronica.” When Esther tried to interrupt, he held up a hand to stop her. “But twelve people told me that they were gonna vote for David.”

  My heart had started thumping, but as soon as he said “twelve,” I felt my chest slowly deflate. We’d been plodding through the public school system since we were in kindergarten, so our class size hadn’t changed since the Johnston twins had moved away. The last time I checked, we’d numbered a hundred and fifty-three.

  “Twelve?” Esther asked. “That’s it?”

  Spencer scowled. “Hey, twelve is awesome! That’s twelve more votes than we had yesterday.”

  “No thanks to you,” she muttered.

  Spencer managed not to comment. “And tomorrow, it will be twelve more, and the day after that, we’ll get twelve more, until we have every vote from every kid and Ms. Quintero names you president and we give Veronica the boot.” He slapped me on the back. “It’s all downhill from here, David. It’s all downhill from here.”

  Riley snorted. “Not likely.”

  I wasn’t sure who to believe.

  Ten

  By the end of seventh period, I was ready for a break. My cheeks were sore from smiling, and my shoulders were black and blue from getting thumped and bumped all day. If it had been up to me, I might have called it quits right then. The MMM had gotten me into this mess, and the MMM could get me out. But when I got to the office, she was nowhere to be found. I was about to turn around when I heard what sounded like raised voices.

  I’d never given student council much more than a passing thought, but I managed to remember that they met with Ms. Quintero once a month. They were supposed to air our grievances, but I’d heard they spent their time sucking up to Ms. Quintero and binging on pizza and breadsticks. So much for representation.

  On any other day, I would have hightailed it out of there, but my feet were tired, too, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. I leaned back against the door and folded my arms across my chest. The voices were coming from the conference room, so there was zero chance that they would see me, but if someone came along, I was going to need a good excuse to be hanging out around the office. Since I didn’t have a phone, I’d have to pretend to be asleep.

  “—would be a change,” a voice was saying. It sounded like Veronica’s. “But I think it would be nice to mix things up, try something new.”

  Someone snorted. “Don’t be stupid.” This voice sounded like Brady’s. “We’re only having this conversation because that twerp entered the race. But it’s not going to matter, since he’s just going to lose.”

  I was less concerned with this assessment than the fact that he’d called me a twerp. No one except my older brothers ever got to call me that.

  “It’s not just that,” she said. “I mean, how would you feel if you never got a chance to make your opinions known?”

  “It’s a good question,” someone said. I didn’t recognize this voice. “But there are other ways. We don’t have to let them have our seats.”

  Veronica drew a bracing breath, then slowly blew it out again. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but if it’s for the greater good…”

  Brady snorted again. “What good is it to suck up to a bunch of nerds?”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from snorting myself. Was Veronica really suggesting that the populars step down so the nerds could take their seats?

  There was an awkward pause, and then Ms. Quintero said, “I think that’s all we have time for today. We’ll have to take this up next month. Thank you, Ms. Pritchard-Pratt, for your thoughtful presentation. You’ve given us a lot to think about.”

  They weren’t the only ones. But I didn’t have a chance to process it before they descended on me.

  I made a break for the south hall, but I’d never been the strongest runner, so I wasn’t out of sight before Veronica called after me, “Hey, David, wait up!”

  Waiting for Veronica wasn’t high on my to-do list, but her unexpected cheerfulness took me by surprise. It sounded as fake as Granddad’s dentures, and I’d never thought of her as someone who had to fake anything.

  By the time I turned around, she’d already halved the distance between us. “We need to practice,” she announced.

  I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut again. Brady had come up behind her and was now glaring lasers at me, like I was some kind of amoeba that had latched onto his shoe. It might have had something to do with the tail end of that meeting, but I’d never thought of him as someone who cared about that stuff.

  Veronica knocked on my forehead. “Earth to David, Earth to David!” When I blinked, she said again, “We need to practice, like, right now.”

  I tore my gaze away from Brady’s face. “Yeah, sure,” I said distractedly. Maybe Brady thought that I was trying to make a move on his girlfriend. Nothing could be further from the truth. “Why don’t we plan on tomorrow?”

  She grabbed the handle on my backpack. “Why don’t we plan on right now? Can I come over to your place?”

  “His place?” Brady asked. He asked it like my place was one of those toxic waste facilities that belched green smoke into the air.

  She made a show of shrugging. “We’ve practiced at his house before.”

  I fought the urge to smack my forehead. If he’d been worried before, Brady had to be downright suspicious now. “Only once,” I said, backpedaling, but Veronica wouldn’t let me go. I must have looked like a cartoon character that couldn’t run away.

  Veronica didn’t seem to notice. “So are we going?” she demanded.

  I shifted awkwardly. On the one hand, I wanted to play “La Vie en rose” with her again, but on the other, it seemed stupid—and possibly life-threatening—to incur Brady’s wrath. The last thing I needed was a vengeful boyfriend on my tail.

  I was trying to decide how to let Veronica down gently when I remembered my saving grace. “Well, my parents are downtown, and they don’t let me have friends over when I’m home alone.”

  Brady stuck his chin out. “Who said you two were friends?” he asked.

  “Well, they don’t let me have enemies over when I’m home alone, either, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

  Brady smiled smugly. “Then I guess we’ll just have to postpone—”

  “Do you want to come over to my house?” Veronica cut in.

  “WHAT?” Brady replied. “You’ve never asked me over, and we’ve been going out for months!”

  She held up a hand to stop him, then set her sights on me. “Do you or don’t you?” she demanded, folding her arms across her waist.

  I dug my toe into the carpet. I did want to play “La Vie en rose,” and if I was being completely honest, I also wanted to see her place. If Brady hadn’t been there, it must have been a sight to see. They probably had security checkpoints, maybe even an electric fence. Her house was probably the nicest of any of the houses in SV.

  “I’d have to call my mom,” I said.

  Veronica motioned toward the office. “I bet you can use their phone. They let me use it all the time.”

  “Don’t you have your own?” I asked.

  “It’s a secure line,” Brady said. “You know, like a president’s.”

  Veronica actually blushed, but she didn’t disagree. That must have meant that it was true.

  Still, I hesitated. “I’d also have to see if she could pick me up.”

  Veronica relaxed. “Even if she can’t,” she said, “I could help you catch the bus.”

  Brady straightened up. “So can I come over, too? I’ve never seen your—”

  “No, you can’t.” The way that Veronica said it left zero room for argument. “David and I will have to practice. We
won’t have time for official tours.”

  Worry sizzled in my stomach like an egg in a hot pan. No Brady meant no witnesses. Was this some clever ploy designed to lure me to her lair?

  I chuckled nervously. “Your parents aren’t ax murderers, are they?”

  “Of course not,” she replied (though she refused to meet my gaze). “It’s just that…never mind. I guess you’ll see soon enough.”

  Since she was still clutching my backpack, it wasn’t difficult for her to drag me back into the office. Brady sputtered like a dying engine, then, finally, stormed off. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten the better deal.

  As I dialed Mom’s number, a part of me secretly hoped she’d put the kibosh on this whole plan, but she thought it was a grand idea. She felt like she knew everyone (since she’d been on the school board in Radcliff’s day), but she couldn’t know Ms. Pritchard or Mr. Pratt—could she?

  Veronica lived on the last street of her school bus’s last stop. I’d expected that school bus to take us up into the foothills that overlooked the valley, but when it turned west instead, I realized that I’d been off. Way off. By the time we clambered down the steps, we’d clattered over the train tracks and left the paved roads far behind. The houses on this side of SV were set apart by several acres, probably to accommodate the farms that had once been so common. But no one farmed anymore, so now it looked like the west-siders were trying to avoid their neighbors.

  She kept up a running commentary as we tromped up the street. “That’s Old Lady Foster’s place,” she said as she pointed at a house with a rusted-out Volkswagen Beetle. “She’s Evelyn’s grandma, though Evelyn would never admit it.”

  Evelyn Schmidt had been a popular through most of elementary school, but I’d heard that she and Veronica had had an argument. Evelyn and her closest friends had stopped sitting with the populars, but since she was the head cheerleader, we still thought of her as one.

  “And that’s the Markhams’,” she went on, pointing at a clapboard shack. “They don’t really go outside, so their place looks worse than it is.”

  It certainly couldn’t look much worse.

  “And that’s the Laras’,” she continued. She didn’t comment on their house, since we were coming up on hers. “And this…well, this is mine.”

  It wasn’t the worst house on the street—that honor went to the Markhams’ shack—but that wasn’t saying much. The yellow paint was old and faded (where it hadn’t peeled off completely), and the whole house sagged to the left side. One corner of the porch had given out, and it looked like someone had put a baseball through a window and never bothered to replace it. They’d put a board up, though. The duct tape was a nice touch.

  She drew a bracing breath. “Nowhere to go but in,” she said.

  I had no choice but to follow.

  The living room lived up to the outside, with ragged curtains and curling wallpaper. The whole place smelled like cigarettes. Or at least I thought that smell was cigarettes. I guess I didn’t really know.

  Veronica crinkled her nose. “I apologize about the smell. I know your parents probably don’t—”

  “What about the smell?” a voice cut in.

  We turned toward it in unison. A beautiful woman had popped up in the archway that connected the front room to the house. Her long, blond hair looked like Veronica’s (though it did look slightly crunchier), but her alligator business suit looked nothing like the ones that were stuffed at the back of Mom’s closet. It clung to her like plastic wrap, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if the alligator had turned out to be real.

  Veronica just shook her head. “Nothing, Mom. Forget I said it.”

  I’d already decided that the woman was her mom, but I didn’t like the way that Ms. Pritchard was looking at me—like I was a piece of meat.

  “Well, hello there,” she said smoothly as she sashayed into the room. “What’s your name, little one?”

  I wanted to tell her I was Radcliff—for some reason, it seemed dangerous to tell her who I was—but the lie caught in my throat. “My name is David,” I replied.

  She offered me her hand. “And mine is Sue,” she said, winking.

  I shook Ms. Pritchard’s hand as quickly as I could. “Nice to meet you,” I mumbled. Though I called Riley’s parents Beau and Abigail, it felt weird to call her Sue.

  Ms. Pritchard tipped her head back and cackled like I’d just said something funny. I cocked an eyebrow at Veronica, but she didn’t seem to know what her mom was laughing at, either.

  “You’ll have to clear out now,” she said as she rushed her mom away. “David and I are going to practice, and I know how much you hate the noise.”

  Ms. Pritchard stood her ground. “Well, maybe I could listen just this—”

  “No!”

  Veronica’s outburst took me by surprise (and if I didn’t miss my guess, it took Veronica by surprise, too). But instead of backing down, she drew herself up to her full height. I couldn’t help but notice that she had her mom by several inches.

  Ms. Pritchard made a show of sniffing. “I can see when I’m not wanted.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But I expect you to make dinner as soon as David leaves!”

  Ms. Pritchard stormed off in a huff. When a door slammed shut upstairs, I jumped despite myself, but Veronica deflated.

  “I apologize about her, too,” she said. “My mom is kind of…”

  “Loud?” I finished.

  She half snorted, half sighed. “Dad keeps saying he’ll divorce her, but Mom knows that he’s too chicken—and that we need the health insurance. She works at Kaufmann Travel, but I’m pretty sure she spends more time at the hair salon next door. When Mr. Kaufmann’s gone, at least.” She glanced down at her All Stars. “But that was way more information than you probably needed.”

  I forced a nervous chuckle. I wasn’t used to worrying about things like health insurance (or what Mom did to stay busy), so I didn’t know how to relate.

  “Anyway,” she said as she lifted the piano lid, “we should get started. I don’t know how long I’ll have.” She glanced back at the archway, then returned her attention to the keys. “How about some warm-up scales?”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging, not because I liked warm-up scales—I didn’t—but because I needed a second to adjust. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that Veronica’s life wouldn’t be perfect, that it wouldn’t be like mine.

  Eleven

  Veronica didn’t mention “La Vie en rose” for the rest of the week, but that was fine by me. I didn’t want to be her confidante or even her friend. And with the campaign at a standstill, I had plenty on my plate.

  Spencer was on the verge of tears when he got to lunch on Friday. “Five,” he said dejectedly. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the straws still in his hand or the ones he’d given away. “Kepler, only five!”

  Esther, who’d managed to make herself a regular fixture at our table, retrieved one of the castoff straws. “Only five what?” she asked.

  “Only five people told me that they were gonna vote for David, and Sarah Sloan said she’d change her mind if I didn’t stop bothering her.”

  Riley perked up. “Sarah Sloan?” He’d had a crush on her forever.

  Spencer waved that off. “It doesn’t matter who it was! The numbers are what matter, and they’ve been dropping like my uncle’s stock.”

  Spencer had taken straw polls at every lunch this week, and the news wasn’t encouraging. I’d scored thirty straws on Wednesday (which he’d attributed to Shiny David), but the numbers had been falling ever since. Today’s count was a new low.

  I scratched the back of my head. “You know, maybe Sarah’s right. Maybe we just need to take a break.”

  Spencer shook his head. “It’s not just that,” he said, sighing. “The campaign is losing steam. We need to do somet
hing, and quick.”

  Esther drained her chocolate milk, then slammed the empty carton down. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, “and I’ll do it quickly, too.”

  Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got something up your sleeve?”

  “Can’t say I do,” Esther replied, holding out her arms to prove it. Then she pointed at her head. “But I’ve got plenty of ideas up here.”

  “What kinds of ideas?” I asked.

  Her only answer was a wicked grin.

  I spent the afternoon waiting and wondering, but Esther didn’t disappoint. Between sixth and seventh periods, she magically showed up at my locker with a stack of postcard-sized flyers. She tried to hand them to me, but Spencer intercepted them. After giving them a once-over, he handed them to me. I had to squint to read Esther’s spidery handwriting:

  Meet us behind Renfro’s

  at exactly 9:00 a.m. tomorrow for

  THE EXPERIENCE OF A LIFETIME.

  Spencer made a face. “What’s ‘the experience of a lifetime’?”

  “And why at Renfro’s?” I added.

  “You’ll see,” Esther replied, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “For now, just pass these out.”

  The color drained from Riley’s cheeks. “We’re supposed to give them to just anyone?”

  “No, to everyone,” she said, handing us a few more flyers. “We want everyone to be there. We want everyone to own this.”

  “Own what?” Spencer demanded.

  “The experience of a lifetime,” she said simply. She turned around, then turned right back. “And you can come without a shirt. It’ll just get in the way.”

  As much as it shamed me to admit it, I almost peed my pants right then.

  * * *

  Riley and I showed up at Spencer’s house at eight thirty the next morning. It was only a few blocks from Renfro’s, so it had seemed like a good meeting place. He met us on the porch, his bare chest gleaming in the sun. We didn’t bother to say anything, just dipped our heads at one another. If we were going to go down, at least we would go down together.