Cast Your Ballot! (12 page)

“Hey, Sam! What gives with the articles? Why so hard on the candidates?”

I shrugged. “Oh, did you think we were hard on them?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. John Scott's a great guy, and he comes off like a dud. And Anthony Wright . . . do you like the guy?”

I cringed. “Love him,” I said, and Frank laughed.

“Oh, right. I saw the photo on Buddybook. I almost forgot!” He walked away, chuckling.

Darn it!

The day continued in that vein, with some people actually mad at me that I hadn't written more strongly in favor of Anthony or Michael in favor of John.
Writers Buffeted by Stormy Election Coverage Seek Shelter.

By the time I found Michael at lunch, I felt like I'd been doing battle all day. He had the same worn-out look to him.

“Bad day?” I asked as I put my tray down.

“Terrible,” he said, brushing his hair off his forehead in frustration.

“How's that plan to be a political journalist going so far?” I teased.

“Not going. That would be a nightmare. I'm thinking of switching to fashion coverage.”

I laughed darkly and nodded. “Though Jeff Perry's certainly well on his way to a career in political photography.”

Now it was Michael's turn to laugh.

“Want to sit together at the speeches?” he asked.

“Yes. Are we there to report or just as civilians?”

“I imagine the next issue of the paper will have to contain something about the speeches, but with the election coming on Monday, it'll just be a small part of the story about who won.”

I nodded, my stomach filled with butterflies. “I hope that's a happy headline.”

At two thirty, the whole school converged on the auditorium. It was packed.

“People, if we could just clear a path through the aisles for safety . . . ,” Mr. Pfeiffer was saying into a bullhorn. Kids were sitting everywhere—on the floor, around the edges of the stage, on laps, in the aisles. It was mayhem. I was lucky I'd had gotten out of my last class early, since we'd finished a project and the teacher knew we were dying to get to the auditorium. I'd been able to rush in and save prime seats for me, Allie, and Michael. Hailey and Anthony would sit onstage in chairs reserved for them and Sara and John.

Eventually, Michael arrived, and pretty soon after, Mr. Pfeiffer got everyone quieted down. Then the candidates walked in and it was chaos all over again. People were cheering, stomping, whistling. I couldn't believe it. It took ten minutes of calming everyone down before John could even get up to speak. I was glad he was going first because I knew he'd be good, and I hoped that would help Anthony calm down and see how he'd survive.

John stood at the podium, perfectly comfortable,
chuckling and enjoying it all. He was a natural politician, I could see. He ate up the attention and felt perfectly at ease in this role. But when he started to talk, he lost me. Sure, he was great: funny, charming, handsome, full of incredible promises and ideas. If I didn't know better, I'd say instantly that he had my vote. I only hoped everyone in the audience would listen closely and hear how empty his promises were, how pie-in-the-sky. And I hoped they'd keep their ears open to hear what Anthony had to say after.

When John finished, Sara joined him at the podium and he introduced her. They left the stage to incredible cheering, clapping, and so on, again. After what seemed like an eternity, it was Anthony's turn.

My palms were soaking wet as I watched Anthony stand. He had a notebook in his hands, and I prayed it was just a prop and that he wouldn't read his speech word for word. He turned and reached one hand out to Hailey. She stood with him, and they both walked to the podium.

Cheering, clapping, stomping—there was lots
of it. Not as much as for John, but Anthony wasn't as much of a known quantity, so I wasn't worried yet. I could see Anthony was nervous, though, and so was Hailey. They stood there, smiling, and then it happened.

“Eeek!”

I heard the first one.

“Eeek!
Eeek!
Eeek!”

Suddenly the whole crowd was “Eek”-ing.

“O-M-G!” I turned first to Michael, who was looking shocked, then Allie, whose face had completely fallen. She was ash-white. Then I looked back at Hailey, whose mouth was open in a small O. What would she do? How would Anthony handle it?

Oh no!

Would the headline for the next issue of the Cherry Valley Voice be:

Candidates Collapse Onstage from Nerves Election Eve?

The crowd fell silent for an awkward second or two as a few more “Eeks” rang out. Mr. Pfeiffer stood up from his chair, put his folder down, and began to cross the stage to take charge.

But then Anthony smiled widely and said, “I can see you've met my vice president, Hailey Jones, the Centipede Warrior!”

There was a brief pause, and then the place went wild.

“Hailey! Hailey! Hailey! Hailey!” they chanted. People cheered and yelled and stomped and applauded and whistled—way louder than anything they'd done for John and Sara.

“Come on, Hails,” I whispered. “You can handle this!” I crossed my fingers and my toes and held my breath, praying she'd react appropriately.

And finally, Hailey stepped forward, grinned a huge grin, and waved at the crowd. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. Hailey then settled the crowd down and said, “I'd like to introduce the next school president, the Wright choice, Anthony Wright!”

By the time Anthony even started his speech, he'd basically won. But the speech was excellent anyway. He talked about his childhood, how much the school meant to him, what he hoped to do and why, and, most important, how. He was specific and smart and even funny a few times, but most of all he sounded serious, reliable, and trustworthy. It was clear he was up there for the “right” reasons (ha-ha), and not just because he wanted to win or because it would look good on his college applications one day.

When I looked at Allie halfway through, her face was glowing even though her arms were tightly crossed in front of her chest and she had one fist in a ball up by her mouth. Turning to Michael, I whispered, “They're gonna win.”

He nodded and smiled, unable to tear his eyes away from Anthony.

Training Pays Off in Underdog Race.

Afterward, Michael, Allie, and I fought the crowds to say congratulations to Hailey and Anthony. They were laughing and happy, just so relieved it was over.

Allie grabbed Anthony in a big hug. “You did it! You nailed it!”

“Thanks to you, Coach!”

“Great job, guys,” I said with a proud smile.

While Anthony and Michael shook hands, I whispered to Hailey, “You did it. It was you. I'm so proud!”

She smiled back. “I guess sometimes you've just gotta go with the flow and embrace the teasing, right, Pasty?”

I grinned. “Right.”

Just then, who should come along to congratulate Hailey but Gregory Toms, the originator of “Eek, a mouse!” I could see Hailey struggling with whether to be mad at him for starting it or happy to see him, and the happiness won out. After all, the “Eek” thing had been good in the end. It gave them an identity. And Gregory was pretty darn cute!

I decided to give them some privacy, but as I turned to walk away, Anthony grabbed my shoulder. “Hey, Sam. I just wanted to say thanks. Whatever ends up happening Monday, either way, I feel like today was a victory. I had the chance to get my ideas out there, and also, just being able to get up there and talk in front of so many people was great. I never dreamed it would go so well. And I couldn't have done it without you. You brought Allie and Hailey to me and also wrote the nice article. I just really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure. I'd love to see you guys win on Monday. It would be great for the school. You have my vote!” I said, and I laughed. “As if you didn't know that!”

“Well, thanks.” And just then Anthony's mom and some of his siblings bustled up onstage, laughing about how hard it had been to get down the aisle through the crowds, and I left them alone to enjoy their congratulations.

Jumping off the stage, I motioned to Allie that I'd meet her outside; then I started walking away.

“Paste!”

Michael caught up, and we headed out together. I couldn't have been happier.

“Hey, there's a new movie out I think I heard you wanted to see. Something about England in the olden days?”

I looked at him to see if he was teasing me, but he wasn't laughing.

“Yeah? And?”

“Wanna go see it this weekend, like, if you're not too busy?”

I paused. This was pretty date-ish. “Uh, are there going to be centipedes there, because . . .”

And we started to laugh.

Hailey and Anthony won by a mile on Monday. The election wasn't even close, and I felt a little bad for John Scott. The Wright team made a plan for a big dinner celebration at Anthony's house. My mom was going to bring me and Allie and Hailey, and then Hailey's dad would bring us home after. I couldn't wait.

After school I packed all my candidate research materials into files, pulling the relevant notebook
pages out and stuffing them in too. I'd decide to give it all to Mr. Trigg. You never know, one day a reporter might come calling to see what we have on those two. I'm sure they'll be big successes in one arena or another.

As I sorted the papers, an IM appeared on my screen. It was from Michael. We'd had a great time Saturday, turning it into a big group outing instead of “just the two of us” date. And the funny thing was, I was happy about it. Spending time with Michael is all that matters, and honestly, I'm just not sure I'm ready to do a one-on-one nonworking date with him. So Hailey and Anthony came, and Kristen and Frank. It was fun. We went to Slices after, and Anthony cracked everyone up with his flawless imitations of an English accent; then Michael took me home.

His IM now said:

Going to the party?