Raffy shakes her head, her auburn cornrows working loose. By the end of the day, they’d be out completely – as per usual. ‘Libby, it’s not a foregone conclusion. You need to let everyone know what you stand for. If you want to be head girl, you’ve got to convince the majority of the school to vote for you and your policies, not just Noughts.’
‘No one’s going to vote for you if they don’t know what they’re voting for,’ says Maisie, who looks enough like me for the two of us to be mistaken for sisters. But our looks are where the similarities end. Maisie is laidback to the point of tipping over. Me? Not so much.
‘And, even if you get the vote of every Nought in the school, that’s still not enough to win the head-girl election,’ Raffy adds.
I frown. My friends are right. Looking around the sixth-form common room, I notice it’s unusually full for the beginning of the lunch break. Usually, at this time of day, there’s less than a dozen people in here, but there are at least three times that many scattered throughout the room. I’d say the room – like the school – is just over one-third FEN (Fenno-Skandian, Eastern and Nought) and just under two-thirds Cross, mostly of Zafrikan heritage. A couple of metres away sit Troy and his friends, Zane and Ayo. Troy Ealing – the fly in my ointment, the boil on my backside, the pain in my neck. Troy Ealing with his perfect mahogany skin and his perfect teeth and his perfect smile. God, but that guy loves himself, and he expects everyone to feel the same way. And to think that once … No! I’m not going there! I turn back to Raffy and Maisie.
‘At least when people vote for me they know that what they see is what they get,’ I tell them. ‘I’m not about to start trying to bribe people by making promises I know I can’t keep.’
I notice the volume of chatter has died down around me as those closest start to listen to what I’m saying. If Raffy reckons I should let people know what I stand for, then that’s exactly what I’ll do. I get to my feet. Time to turn up the volume.
‘What this school needs, what we all need, is someone who will take the role seriously. Someone who will be an advocate for us students against the teachers. Someone who isn’t afraid to speak the truth, even when it’s unpopular.’
A few heads turn my way.
‘What this school needs is a head girl who isn’t hidebound by so-called tradition.’ A few more heads turn. ‘The status quo? The same old, same old? That doesn’t work for everyone. I want to be the voice of those who aren’t afraid of change.’
I’m the centre of attention. Good. Even Troy is watching me. No harm in doing some campaigning here and now. Every little helps.
‘If you vote for me to be head girl, I promise I will take it to the teachers and fight for the whole student body, unlike some of those I’m running against who are too gutless to stand up and be counted. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re Albion, Zafrikan, Western, Eastern or Fenno-Skandian, I’m here for you and you will always have my full support. Votes for Dina and Meshella are wasted votes. They only care about their own. And Zane’s only running because he thinks it’ll impress us girls.’
‘Oi!’ Zane calls out.
Eyebrows raised, I look at Zane pointedly, daring him to deny it. His face immediately flushes red. ‘That’s a lie. I want to be head boy because … because … er …’
I turn to Troy with a satisfied smile. ‘I rest my case.’
‘You arse!’ Troy exclaims at the expression on his biracial friend’s face. ‘Is that seriously why you’re running for head boy?’
‘Course not!’ Zane’s face is now an interesting shade of beetroot.
‘Once more with feeling.’ Is the disdain in my voice noticeable? I hope so! ‘Whereas I will represent everyone and I can be trusted to keep my word, unlike Meshella and Dina.’
‘Why can’t they be trusted, Libby?’ Ayo calls out. ‘Because they’re Crosses?’
‘You said that; I didn’t,’ I call back. ‘But if the shoe fits—’
Murmurs ripple around the common room.
‘Playing the race card, Libby?’ Troy calls out, a scalpel-sharp edge to his voice. ‘That’s low, even for you.’
‘Troy, I’m not going to let you put me off my stride.’
‘What strides would they be?’ asks Troy. ‘You think you’re going to get us Crosses to vote for you after you insult us by saying we only care about our own? Are you really that stupid?’
I look around. Some people are frowning at me; others are giving me serious side-eye. What did I say? I replay my words. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. Some of the Crosses have obviously taken it in a bad way. Time for some damage control.
‘You misunderstood me—’ I begin.
‘No, I think we’re all smart enough to understand exactly what you meant,’ Troy interrupts. ‘Channelling your mum there, Libby?’
I scowl at him. Why bring my mum into this?
‘Liberty, why don’t you sit down?’ someone calls out from across the common room.
Troy applauds in agreement.
‘I didn’t mean Crosses couldn’t be trusted as such,’ I say hastily. ‘I only meant that it’s natural that you Crosses would look out for your own first. Meshella and Dina would say as much if they were here—’
‘No, they wouldn’t,’ Troy argues. ‘And it’s funny how you wait for both of them to be out of the room to trash-talk them. What else would you be saying about Zane if he wasn’t sitting next to me?’
Shut up, Troy. Shut up. Shut Up. SHUT UP!
‘I just mean that, as head girl, I promise to work on behalf of each and every student in this school.’ I force a smile.
‘Well, I don’t need a crystal ball to know that if you became head girl it’d be a disaster. You’d play one group against another against another until the whole school fractured and became just as toxic as you,’ says Troy. ‘That’s not gonna happen. Not on my watch.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I hate the picture he’s painting of me, like I’m some kind of self-centred bigot, playing divide and conquer. I’m not.
‘You know what?’ Troy stands up, addressing the whole common room. ‘At the beginning of term, Mrs Paxton said I should run for head boy and I turned her down, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to run and run hard for head boy – and, unlike some, I won’t be trash-talking the opposition to make myself look good. I’ll be running a positive campaign, addressing the issues we all care about. I’d appreciate your support and votes.’
A spontaneous round of applause fills the common room. People clap and stamp and whistle their support. Troy turns back to me with a smirk on his face. The gauntlet has been thrown down. Hard. I now have some serious competition in the race to be head student. Troy will bring it. But let him do his worst. He won’t win.
I don’t care what it takes, but I will be head girl of Heathcroft High, and nothing and no one is going to get in my way. Or take it away from me. As a Nought with no money, making head girl of Heathcroft High plus my predicted final grades are my one shot at getting a scholarship to university. It’s my only way up and my only path out. I won’t let anyone get in the way of that. Especially not Troy Ealing.