“So… I take it you didn’t know that photo was there,” Brent says, pocketing his phone.
“That picture is over a year old,” I say, taking a deep breath so I don’t punch something. “She’s been trying to get me to date her again but she won’t take no for an answer. I guess she thought she’d just force her way into being my girlfriend again, but that won’t happen.”
“She’s good at forcing what she wants,” Brent says. “That’s why I came to talk to you. You seem like a good guy so I thought you could help me because I don’t know what to do.”
“What is it?” I ask. For all I know she’s gone and forged my signature on a marriage document and is waiting until I turn eighteen to make it legal.
Brent exhales. I’m starting to think he’s of the real nerd variety and not one of those fashion-nerds. “Well, she uh… she forced me to rig the election. I’m StuCo treasurer, so I’m in charge of the votes and Zara was winning by a long shot but Andrea forced me to change the votes. She actually stole all the paper votes from me and said she’d ruin my life if I told anyone.” He looks at the ground. “So I haven’t told anyone. But I hate knowing she’s stealing the crown from Zara, who deserves to win.”
I nod. I already knew as much because Andrea had told me she’d rigged the election. This poor kid looks like he couldn’t stand up to a five-year-old, much less to Andrea and all her well-rehearsed intimidation.
“I want to let the admin know what she did, but I’m also afraid I’ll get in trouble for letting it happen. I can’t have anything happen to my scholarship and getting disciplined at school will probably get me kicked out of college. Do you have any ideas?”
“Yeah,” I say as the perfect plan comes to mind. “We’re not going to tell anyone.”
Brent frowns. “You mean we’ll just let her win?”
“Yep,” I say, smiling and patting him on the shoulder. “We are going to let her win.”
Sixteen
Zara
It isa complete miracle that my parents let me skip school on Friday. They’re very much strait-laced parents and following rules are their favorite pastime, but I guess Mom felt bad for me with the whole boy next door drama. After Jackie came home from college and informed her that I had real competition for homecoming queen, Mom really understood why I was so upset.
So here I am, skipping school. It’s glorious. I sleep in late and then eat junk food in bed while watching TV for hours. Just before my dad gets home from work, my sister flounces into my room with a big “everything’s fine” smile.
“Okay,” she says, walking over to my window and opening the curtains. “You’ve had all day to wallow. Now it’s time to get ready.”
I squint at the burst of light and fall back in my bed, pulling my pillow over my head.
“The only thing I’m getting ready for is dinner.”
“You can skip school but you can’t skip this dance,” Jackie says. She walks in my closet and then emerges with a light pink dress still in its clear plastic garment bag. She lays it across the foot of my bed. Even now, when I’m soaked in misery, the dress is beautiful. It’s knee-length with a glittery shimmer and rhinestones along the neckline. It’s the perfect party dress. The perfect homecoming dance. I bought it over the summer in preparation for my time as homecoming queen.
“I’m not going,” I mutter, pulling the pillow back over my head.
“Mo-ommm!” Jackie calls out. “Zara is being a butt!”
I groan.
I can hear Mom’s soft footsteps as she enters my room. “Zara, honey?” she says, carefully removing the pillow from my face. “Why are you being a butt?”
“I don’t want to go to the dance,” I pout.
“They can’t crown the homecoming queen without you,” she says softly, sitting next to me.
“I don’t even know if I’m going to win,” I mutter.
“Psh, you’re winning.” Jackie sounds like she personally talked to every single student to demand that they vote for me. Knowing her, she might have done just that. “Now get up and go shower and then I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
“Fineeee,” I say.
Satisfied, my mom leaves. I get up and close the bedroom door, then turn to my sister. “You have to get me out of this!”
Jackie scoffs. “No way. This is your night to shine. Get your but in the shower… I can smell you from here.”
I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest to signal that I’m not going anywhere. “I don’t want to stand on stage with Zane. It’ll be awkward and horrible.”
