Callie raised her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know they were friends.”
“They’re not. That’s not the point. She doesn’t care about Valerie winning—she just wants Scott to lose, and she knows Val’s his only serious competition.”
“I see.” Callie shrugged. “So what are we supposed to do about it? Veronica can campaign for anyone she wants, and we can’t stop her—free speech and all that, you know. Even if her motives are rotten.”
Stevie didn’t think Callie fully appreciated the gravity of the situation. Glancing at the row of sinks, she saw that the primpers had left and she and Callie were alone in the bathroom. “But she’s not just campaigning,” she protested. “She’s spreading all kinds of lies and exaggerations, too, like telling anyone who’ll listen that it was all her idea to combine our fall dance with Willow Creek’s homecoming.”
“Wasn’t it?” Callie asked quietly.
Stevie frowned. “Maybe at first,” she argued. “But Scott was the one who made it happen. Isn’t that what politicians are supposed to do? Take action and make people’s ideas become reality? Isn’t that why we’re calling Scott the action candidate?”
“Sure,” Callie said reasonably. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I agree with what Veronica’s doing. I’m just trying to tell you that sometimes there’s not much you can do about that sort of negative campaigning except try to rise above it.”
“What?” Stevie didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded too much like rolling over and letting Veronica get away with it, and that wasn’t an idea she relished. Veronica got away with too much as it was—just because she was pretty and rich, she acted as if the world owed her whatever she wanted. “But she’s making people think that Scott is just, like, her puppet or something. That he didn’t have anything to do with making the dance happen. What if people actually believe that?”
“I doubt they will,” Callie replied. “Dad ran into the same kind of thing in a few of his campaigns, and he won most of them anyway.”
Stevie was about to respond, but at that moment the bathroom door swung open. Leaning forward to see who it was, Stevie saw Valerie Watkins enter with several friends. Valerie spotted Stevie and Callie right away.
“Hello,” she greeted them politely, pushing her glasses farther up her nose. “Callie, I don’t know what’s going on, but I just want you to know that I don’t have anything to do with all those rumors that are flying around.”
Callie smiled back. “Thanks, Valerie, I—”
“Yeah, thanks,” Stevie interrupted. “Now how about getting Veronica to back off, since she’s doing this out of some kind of misguided effort to help you?”
Valerie looked at Stevie in surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stevie, but I didn’t ask Veronica to do anything.”
Callie spoke up quickly. “Stevie and I know that, Valerie. It’s just that we’re both a little upset. It’s not fun having people talk about you behind your back. Especially when it’s all lies.”
“I guess politics can get ugly even at the high-school level,” Valerie replied. “I’m really sorry about what’s going on, and sorry that you got caught up in it.”
“Thanks again,” Callie said. “Come on, Stevie, I’m going to be late for class if I don’t get a move on.
Stevie looked like she wanted to say something more to Valerie, but instead she just nodded politely and followed Callie out the door. She and Callie could continue their conversation later, when they could get some privacy. In the meantime, she had to start thinking of some way to negate what Veronica was doing.
Stevie was so busy campaigning during first period that her Spanish teacher spoke sharply to her three times for talking during class. By the third time, Stevie wasn’t even sure exactly what Señora Johnson was saying anymore—her long-winded rebuke went way beyond Stevie’s knowledge of Spanish vocabulary. Still, she figured at that point that she’d better control herself before her teacher remembered the Spanish word for “detention.”
As soon as Señora Johnson released the class at the end of the period, Stevie leaped out of her seat, quickly gathered her books and papers into a messy pile, and hurried out of the room. She had a few minutes before she had to report to her math classroom, and she planned to make the most of it.
“Hey, Betsy,” she said, spotting Betsy Cavanaugh heading down the hall to her next class. Stevie grabbed her arm, almost dropping her books, and smiled eagerly. “How’s it going?”
Betsy gave her a suspicious look. “Fine,” she said. “What do you want? You already told me all about what a god Scott Forester is, if that’s what this is about.”
“Oh.” Suddenly Stevie remembered spending a good five minutes that morning explaining to Betsy and several other classmates exactly why they should vote for Scott despite anything that Veronica might say. “Right. Well, I just wanted to remind you that Election Day is tomorrow.”
“Duh.” Betsy rolled her eyes and shifted her books to her other arm. “Anyway, I haven’t even decided who to vote for yet. So you might as well save your breath.”
Stevie didn’t bother to point out the mixed-up logic of Betsy’s statement. She could already guess the competing forces at work in Betsy’s mind. She was a member of the clique of popular kids and wannabes that revolved around Veronica diAngelo, which meant that she paid an awful lot of attention to whatever Veronica thought. However, she was also completely boy-crazy—if anyone was likely to cast a vote because of a candidate’s hunky good looks, it was Betsy.
“Okay,” Stevie said, wishing she’d thought to have some flattering pictures of Scott printed up to pass out to people like Betsy. “Uh, I was just wondering if you noticed Scott at the dance the other night. Didn’t he look nice in that jacket he was wearing?”
Betsy smirked. “Sure, Stevie. Whatever you say. He looked totally delicious.”
“Yeah,” Stevie agreed, encouraged by the comment, though she couldn’t quite figure out the weird expression on Betsy’s face. “Well, I just thought—”
She cut herself off as she spotted Callie coming down the hall toward her, accompanied by Moira Candell, one of Betsy’s best friends. The two girls seemed to be discussing a history quiz, but they both paused when they reached Stevie and Betsy.
“Hi,” Callie greeted Stevie with a smile.
Stevie smiled back, but she kept her gaze on Betsy and Moira, not wanting to be distracted from her campaigning by small talk.
“What’s going on?” Moira asked, casually tucking her chin-length auburn hair behind one ear and looking curiously from Betsy to Stevie and back again.
Betsy grabbed her by the arm. “Check it out,” she said with a grin. “Stevie was just reminding me how hot Scott Forester looked at the dance.”
“Really?” Moira’s green eyes narrowed and she looked at Stevie with interest.
“I guess you could say that,” Stevie said. She didn’t like Moira much—those catlike eyes of hers hid a mean streak as wide as the Potomac—but she was still a potential voter, and this seemed like a good chance to kill two birds with one stone. “Actually, I was just about to remind Betsy—back me up here, Callie—that Scott worked really hard to make that dance happen. He knew people would enjoy it, so he took action to make them happy.”
Moira raised one carefully groomed eyebrow and shot Betsy a quick grin before turning back toward Stevie. “So what kind of action does he take to make you happy, Stevie?”
“What?” Stevie frowned, not understanding the comment.
Betsy giggled with delight. “Come on, Stevie,” she said. “You can level with us. We know why you’re campaigning so hard for Scott. Veronica told us you two are hot and heavy.”
Stevie gasped, finally getting it. “What?” she sputtered. “Are you saying—”
She broke off, not even wanting to put it into words. It was too ridiculous. She glanced at Callie, expecting her to leap to her defense, tell the two girls that Stevie and Scott had no roman
tic interest in each other. But instead, Callie was staring at Stevie with a startled, thoughtful, questioning look on her face.
Stevie felt her heart jump. She couldn’t believe that Callie might actually believe one of Veronica’s smarmy lies.
“Listen,” she told Moira and Betsy sharply. “I shouldn’t even have to tell you this, but there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Scott. I’m his campaign manager and his friend—that’s it. Anything else you’ve heard is just another one of Veronica’s pathetic lies.”
Moira shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not like I care one way or the other.” She gave Stevie a scornful glance before turning away. “Come on, Betsy. Let’s hit the soda machine before second period.”
The two girls wandered away. Stevie turned to Callie with a scowl. “Okay, what was that all about?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.
Callie looked startled. “What was what all about?”
“I saw the look you gave me,” Stevie replied bluntly. “When Betsy said that about me and Scott. You looked like you might actually believe it.”
“I’m sorry,” Callie said immediately, giving Stevie an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to. I know that you and Scott are just friends, and that you would never even think about cheating on Phil. It’s just that, well, for a second it kind of made sense that someone might think otherwise, you know, because of all the time you’ve been spending together. I guess it was sort of an automatic reaction, like a ‘what if’ thing. I’m really sorry if it looked like I didn’t trust you, or like I actually believed Veronica’s vicious gossip.
Stevie nodded, appeased. “That’s okay,” she said. “I guess I’m being a little touchy. I was just so surprised.” She forced a laugh. “I mean, I’ve been hearing rumors about Scott and you and the rest of your family all weekend, but this is the first one that’s involved me.”
“I understand,” Callie said. “It’s always upsetting when—”
“Callie!” an overloud voice broke in. “There you are. I was hoping I’d catch you so that we could walk to chemistry together.”
Frowning with irritation at the interruption, Stevie turned to see George Wheeler hurrying toward them. She felt a twinge of guilt as she realized she hadn’t even asked Callie how her date with him had gone. Still, she supposed she could apologize for that later. At the moment, she was getting the nagging feeling that there was someone else who just might deserve an apology, or at least an explanation.
Maybe Phil wasn’t so off base when he made that crack about Scott, she thought, hardly noticing as George put his hand on Callie’s arm and steered her away, being careful not to get in the way of her crutches. I mean, after all our years together, he definitely should know better than to think I could ever be interested in anyone but him. But maybe I haven’t been totally fair, either.
That wasn’t an easy thing for her to admit, even inside her own head, but she forced herself to face it. Hearing the second-period bell ring, she automatically headed down the hall toward her math class.
I mean, if Callie could believe there was something going on between me and Scott, even for a second, I probably shouldn’t be surprised if the thought has crossed Phil’s mind, too, Stevie told herself ruefully. And the way I’ve been spending all my time talking about the election probably hasn’t helped much, either. It’s no wonder if Phil is feeling a little neglected and insecure.
She shook her head, suddenly feeling guilty about the way she’d been taking her boyfriend for granted. In fact, she realized, she’d hardly spent a moment thinking about him in the past couple of days, despite that upsetting phone call on Saturday night.
There’s only one solution, she thought as she walked into her classroom and hurried toward her desk. When I get home today, I’ll have to beg Mom and Dad to let me use the phone, no matter how many extra hours of chores I have to do in exchange. Then I’ll call Phil and make sure I don’t hang up again until I’ve totally convinced him that he’s the one and only guy for me.
THIRTEEN
“Are you ready for this?” Stevie asked the next morning, feeling an anxious knot tightening in her stomach as she caught her first glimpse of the school building out the car window.
From his position in the driver’s seat, Scott glanced at her in the rearview mirror and grinned. “Ready for what?”
“Very funny.” Stevie rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers nervously on the leather backseat of Scott’s car. It was Election Day, and Scott had offered to pick her up so that they could face the big day as a team. Stevie had quickly accepted the invitation. She had wanted to get in early again, and she’d doubted she’d have been able to convince Alex to abridge his breakfast two days in a row.
Callie glanced at Stevie from the front passenger’s seat. “He’s always like this on the big day,” she said. “Dad, too. Pretty annoying, huh?”
“Definitely.” Stevie couldn’t believe how calm Scott was acting. He’d been cracking jokes during the entire drive, and his hands were as steady as ever on the wheel. Stevie felt like such a wreck that she wasn’t sure she would have been able to drive.
Before long they were pulling into the student parking lot. There were only half a dozen cars parked there so far—few students bothered to arrive a full half hour before the homeroom bell unless they had an early club meeting or music rehearsal. Stevie took a deep breath of the cool morning air as she climbed out of the car.
“Here goes nothing,” she said as the three of them headed for the front steps.
“Ready to do a little last-minute campaigning?” Scott asked her.
Stevie nodded. The actual voting would take place during homeroom, so she knew they didn’t have much time. But she planned to make the most of what little they had. “Let’s go to it.”
As soon as they got inside, she and Scott went to work, wandering the halls and talking to everyone they could find. Valerie Watkins and the other two candidates were there, too, doing the same thing. Stevie did her best to ignore them and concentrate on convincing as many people as she could that Scott was the best candidate.
The homeroom bell rang, startling her out of her description of Scott’s plans for refurbishing the ancient locker rooms in the gym. The sophomore guys she’d been talking to wandered off, and Stevie took a deep breath, realizing she’d run out of time.
“Better hurry up, Stevie,” a snide voice came from behind her. Turning, Stevie saw Veronica diAngelo strolling toward her own homeroom. “You don’t want to miss your chance to vote for your new boyfriend.”
A thousand sharp retorts flew into Stevie’s mind. But she ignored all of them. Instead, she smiled sweetly at Veronica. “May the best candidate win,” she said calmly, turning away without bothering to watch Veronica’s reaction.
As she walked into her own homeroom a moment later, Stevie was feeling calmer than she’d felt in a week. All of her former nervousness had fled. She and Scott had done what they could. It was up to the voters now.
Her homeroom teacher looked up as she entered. “You’re late, Lake,” he said. “Grab a ballot—you don’t want to miss your chance to do your civic duty, do you?”
“Thanks, Mr. Knight,” Stevie replied, accepting the sheet he held out to her. Hurrying to her seat, she pulled out a pen and let her backpack drop to the floor with a thud. Clicking the pen open, she flattened the one-page ballot sheet on her desk and drew a bold check mark in the box beside Scott’s name.
Carole stared at the blank notebook page on the desk in front of her, but she didn’t see it. Instead she saw a perfect vision of Samson flying over the obstacle course of four-foot fences she’d set up for him the previous afternoon. He’d had no more trouble with it than he would have had with a row of cavalletti lying on the ground, and Carole was bursting with the growing certainty that the big black horse could handle anything the Colesford course designers threw at them in Open Jumping. She only hoped she would be able to handle it, too—she didn’t want to let Samson down. She cou
ld already imagine how wonderful it would feel to stand at his head as a judge clipped a fluttering blue ribbon to his bridle.…
Chewing absently on the end of her pencil, she let out a deep sigh of anticipation. Noticing that the girl across the aisle was shooting her curious looks, Carole snapped out of her daydreams and blinked, trying to focus her mind as well as her eyes on her biology notebook. She was supposed to be writing out the steps she planned to follow for the lab project the class was starting the next day—most of her classmates were scribbling away busily—but she just couldn’t seem to concentrate on the task. Whenever she wasn’t dreaming of her brilliant future with Samson, she was doing her best to get used to the idea that Starlight wouldn’t be a part of that future. The idea of giving him up still hurt a lot, but she was starting to accept it, at least a little. She knew in her heart that it was for the best. She couldn’t give him what he needed, and she loved him too much to let him go without.
Once again, she tried to concentrate on her schoolwork. CELL REPRODUCTION PROJECT, she wrote at the top of the page. ACTION STEPS FOR LAB.
Then she paused, chewing on her pencil again. This time she found her thoughts wandering to Ben. She hadn’t seen much of him the afternoon before because he’d been busy helping Red reorganize the toolshed. That meant she still hadn’t found a chance to thank him for distracting Max on Sunday.
I’ll have to make a point of saying something to him before I forget, she thought, doodling the letter B in the margin of her notebook. She added ears, a mane and tail, and four legs to the B so that it looked like a fat little horse sitting up on its tail end. Smiling at the silly drawing, she scribbled over it and then glanced around to make sure nobody was watching her.
Nobody was. The teacher was sitting at the front of the room correcting papers, and everyone else was concentrating on their own work.
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