Authors: Dyan Sheldon
Meet the girl with the answer for everything.
“Lola,” I said. “Lola, you can’t just go around nominating people without asking them first. It’s not the way it’s done.”
She cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “Oh, really? Well, there’s nothing in the rules that says you have to have the nominee’s permission to put his or her name forward.” She beamed. “I checked.”
“That’s because no one ever thought anyone would be dumb enough to do it,” said Sam.
Lola carried on as though he hadn’t spoken. “And besides, Ella…” She gave me one of her Melanie Griffiths’ looks, innocent and misunderstood. “I know it was three days ago, but if you cast your mind back you’ll realize that I did try to tell you.” She smiled sweetly. “But you didn’t want to listen.” She swung her arm for dramatic effect and whacked Sam in the nose. “In fact, you totally refused to listen.”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh, yes it is.” Lola surged forward, her shawl flapping behind her.
Sam and I trotted on either side of her, trying to keep up with her new power walk.
“Lola—” Even I could hear that I was bleating. “Lola, this is madness. Aside from the ethical issues, and the fact that neither of us wants to run, Sam and I don’t stand a chance against Carla and Alma. Probably less than Morty.”
“Oh, please…” sighed Lola. “You have much more of a chance than Morty.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Morty’s a nice guy, but he’s so dull.”
“And I’m not?”
Carla Santini dumped me when we left junior high because I was so dull she didn’t want to be associated with me.
“No,” said Lola, “you’re not. You’re like a bomb that’s only waiting to be detonated to light the night with a thousand flames.”
I have no idea where she gets this stuff from.
“Tell us the truth, Lola,” said Sam. “What planet do you really come from?”
I bleated some more. “Lola, listen to me. I’m not going to light the night with anything except an electric bulb. I can’t do this, Lola. It’ll kill me. I’m introverted, remember? Underneath my name in the year book it’s going to say
Shy to those who don’t know her, Ella’s sense of humour is loved by the few who know her well…
I am not Presidential material.”
“Yes you are.” She grabbed my shoulders as though she were going to shake me. “You can do it. You’re exactly what’s needed. You’re smart, you’re well-liked, your ego doesn’t dominate your personality, you’re as honest and trustworthy as Bill Gates is rich, and you were a homeroom rep your first year.” She winked. “Plus, you’re perfect. There’s not the teensiest little thing in your life or your past that even a professional character assassin like Carla Santini could use against you.”
Sam groaned. “It’s even worse when she starts making sense,” he said to me. “It makes me really nervous.”
It made me pretty nervous, too.
“But that’s not the point, Lola. The point is that I do not want to run.” I said the second sentence very slowly, enunciating every letter. I might as well have said it in Greek.
Lola gazed into my eyes, sincerely and with just a hint of disappointment. “But the people need you.”
“A few days ago it was
you
they needed,” I reminded her.
Lola didn’t find this an obstacle. “But they can’t have me, so now they need you.” She tightened her grip on my shoulders. “You can’t turn your back on the people, Ella. They nominated you. They want you to run.” She looked to Sam. “And you. You’re both the people’s choice.”
“Lola,” I begged, “give us a break, will you? Even if we were the people’s choice we’d still have to campaign. Neither Sam nor I know anything about running a political campaign.”
“Well that’s where you’re in luck, isn’t it?” Lola beamed. “You’ve got the hottest campaign manager in the State on your team.”
“I take it we’re talking about Lola Cep,” I said.
“You can’t lose,” Lola assured me. “I may have a thespian soul, but my mind is pure Machiavelli.”
“What’s Machiavelli?” asked Sam.
“And that’s another thing,” Lola informed him. “You’re going to have to improve your school attendance if you want to be Vice President, Sam. It’s best to lead by example.”
“But I don’t want to be Vice President,” snarled Sam. “I didn’t choose this.”
“Sometimes,” said Lola, “we can’t do what we choose. Sometimes we have to do what we must.”
“I’m beginning to feel like I must kill you,” Sam muttered.
But Lola didn’t hear him. She was already halfway to her desk.
Since
Lola wouldn’t accept the fact that we weren’t going to run, Sam and I decided that as soon as lunch-break started we’d go and see Dr Alsop and respectfully decline the nomination in an adult, responsible way. It seemed pretty straightforward and easy as plans go.
I was outside Sam’s computer class just after the bell rang. It took ages for him to come out because there was a girl in the year below us handing out glossy Vote for Carla Santini flyers at the door. No one got out without one.
Sam was crumpling his into a ball as he stepped into the hall. He started to smile, but then his eyes saw something behind me and he stopped. “What the hell is that?”
I didn’t look around. I’d already seen it. “It’s a poster. There seem to be quite a few around the school.” I laughed grimly. “Lola really has been working hard.”
“‘Gerard and Creek,’” read Sam. “‘Real People for a Real Choice.’” He was shaking his head in a disbelieving kind of way. “That should appeal to Carla’s sense of humour. What’s Lola trying to do, start a war?”
“What do you mean
start
?” The private war between Lola Cep and Carla Santini had been going on from almost the moment they met. They were the Montagues and Capulets of Dellwood High, and neither was likely to ever put down her weapon.
Sam was still shaking his head. “But how does she work so fast? Do you think it’s prescription drugs?”
“No. It’s demonic possession.”
Sam laughed. “No,
really
.”
“Really.”
“She sure is something, isn’t she?” Now he was laughing and shaking his head. “She’s got more balls than a pool hall. Without a word to anyone, she’s organized the whole shebang.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re weakening,” I blurted out. There was definitely a hint of abject pleading in my voice. Without Sam’s support I would be a lump of wet clay in Lola’s hands, and I knew it. Lola knew it, too.
“No way!” Sam gave me a surprised look. “Of course I’m not weakening. My mother didn’t raise any pushovers, you know. Nobody railroads me into anything, not even Lola.”
I wasn’t completely convinced. “Well,” I said. I cleared my throat. “You did borrow Eliza’s—”
“She asked me to borrow the dress,” cut in Sam. “She gave me a choice.” He grinned. “And anyway, it was a totally different situation.”
“You mean this one is legal.”
“No, I mean I was backstage. I’m not a spotlight kind of guy.”
Which made two of us. I’m not a spotlight kind of guy either; I’m a sitting-in-the-middle-of-the-theatre-where-it’s-dark-but-you-can-see-what’s-happening kind of guy.
Sam grabbed my elbow and started steering me down the hall. “Come on. We’d better find Old Gumshoes before he goes to lunch.”
Dr Alasdair Alsop, or Old Gumshoes as Sam called him, was in the main office, talking to Mrs Baggoli.
They both looked up as Sam and I came through the door.
“Speak of the devils!” cried Dr Alsop. “Ella! Sam! I’m so glad to see you! Mrs Baggoli and I were just talking about you.”
“It’s an alien takeover,” whispered Sam. “He’s
never
glad to see me.”
I’d been concentrating so hard on what I was going to say to Mr Alsop that now that he was standing in front of me I couldn’t speak. I smiled.
Sam said, “Dr Alsop, Ella and I wondered if we could talk to you.”
Dr Alsop laughed. Maybe it
was
an alien takeover. I didn’t know Dr Alsop as well as Sam did, since I’d never been sent to his office in my life, but I knew him well enough to know that he didn’t exactly have a reputation for laughing too much.
“Now that makes a change, doesn’t it?” boomed Dr Alsop. “
You
wanting to talk to
me
!”
Mrs Baggoli, Ms Littlemoon, Dr Alsop’s secretary and the handful of students waiting at the front desk all joined in the laughter.
Sam sort of grunted a couple of times. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess it is.” He kicked me in the shin.
I forced myself to say something. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes, Dr Alsop. I mean, if you don’t have the time we could always come—”
“Time?” roared Dr Alsop. “Of course I have time for you two. To tell you the truth, I’m delighted you stopped by. I was hoping to have a chance to congratulate you personally.”
Sam was obviously as thrown by this as I was. “Congratulate us about what?” he asked.
Everybody laughed again, but no one laughed louder than Dr Alsop.
When he finally chuckled to a stop he said, “It’s always good to have someone with a sense of humour in a political race. Sharpens things up.”
Sam and I said, “Oh,” but neither of us had a chance to say more than that because Mrs Baggoli suddenly joined the conversation.
“I’m sure you have a lot to discuss with Dr Alsop,” said Mrs Baggoli. “But before I go, let me congratulate you on your nomination, too.” While she was talking, she started moving away from Dr Alsop. I willed her to keep walking until she was back in the hallway, but she stopped next to Sam and me. She lowered her voice. “Between you and me, I think this is just what the election needs. Fresh blood.”
Fresh blood all over the campus was what she meant. My blood and Sam’s.
Mrs Baggoli grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. “Congratulations, Ella. It’s really good to see you using some of your potential.”
My potential for disaster, obviously.
I managed to smile. “Thank you, Mrs Baggoli.”
“And as for you, Sam Creek.” She then took Sam’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long, long time.”
I could hear Sam swallow. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Me too.”
All of a sudden, Dr Alsop was standing next to us. “I couldn’t agree more with Mrs Baggoli. We’re all very proud of Carla Santini, of course, she’s always been a credit to this school – but it’s nice to see someone else getting into the middle of things for a change. Especially you two.”
Sam did some vague grunting and I kept smiling. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I truly welcome your nominations,” finished Dr Alsop. He extended his hand to me. “I’ve always had the feeling that you tend to hide your light under a bushel, Ella. This has come as a most welcome surprise.”
What I wanted to hide under a bushel right then was me.
I couldn’t tell him I was backing out now; I just couldn’t. He looked so happy. And there were so many witnesses.
I glanced over at Sam. He looked like he’d swallowed a sparkplug. He wasn’t going to say anything, either.
I reached for Dr Alsop’s hand. “Thank you,” I said.
Then Dr Alsop shook Sam’s hand. “And as for you, Mr Creek, surprise doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. It’s very gratifying that you’ve made this decision. I think we’ve really turned a corner here.”
“Yeah,” Sam mumbled in my ear. “Right into a wall.”
I
always went over to Lola’s after school on Friday afternoons. Friday was Lola’s sisters-minding day and she couldn’t come to me, and it was also my mother’s afternoon as a volunteer at the local nursing home so she didn’t get home till late. And, since I was going to Lola’s and Sam had to work, I was the one who was volunteered to explain Sam’s and my position on the election to Lola. Which was that, having failed to resign, we would be in the election but not really part of it. We would be candidates in name only.
Lola and I stopped in town on the way home to pick up the badges she’d ordered.
She talked all the way. Blahblahblah the election … the election blahblahblah. She didn’t notice that I was quiet and pensive. I was waiting for the right moment to give her a shot of reality.
The badges were kind of black and a shade of yellow I associate with the flu. The writing was fuzzy.
“They’re the cheapest I could get,” said Lola. “We don’t exactly have a big budget.”
We had a total budget of one hundred and fifty dollars from the school fund. Each of the candidates got that.
“We’ll need some money to buy paper for more posters and stuff like that,” said Lola as we pedalled to her house. “But we won’t need any money for the actual production.” Besides the cash, on Monday each candidate would be given an empty room to use after classes as his or her headquarters, a key to the photocopy machine in the office, and use of a computer. “The graphics program the art department has is excellent.”
I said, “Um,” which was basically what I’d been saying since we left the campus.
“We’ll have to have a rally, of course, so you can give your major speech. But we can use the gym, so that won’t cost anything.”
This really cheered me up; incredible as it may seem, I’d forgotten about the speech-giving.
“Great,” I said. Major as in “big” was bad enough; major as in “more than one” was my worst nightmare come true. The one time we had to give a speech in English, I was so nervous that I threw up my breakfast. I had to run out of homeroom with my hand over my mouth. When I actually got up to speak, I was shaking so much it sounded like I was playing maracas, not discussing the symbolism of William Blake. “Terrific.”
“So that puts us way ahead,” continued Lola. “We can use the money for something really spectacular…” She gazed at the road ahead for a few minutes with the glazed eyes of someone having a vision, and then glanced at me. “How much do you think a hot air balloon would cost?”
“More than a hundred and fifty.”
“I wonder…” said Lola.
All the way to her house she tried to think of something spectacular we could do for less than a hundred and fifty dollars. What about skywriting? What about hiring a marching band? What about mimes? What about a short film? What about Sam and me jumping from a plane with a banner that said MAKE THE LEAP?