Jay Choi
President
Rocking Frosh
Emmarie Hayes
President
Senior
Leo Torres
President
The Big 1-2
Andreas Costa
Treasurer
Junior
Dipti Patel
Vice President
Junior
“She did it,” Cat whispered to herself, staring at the bulletin board outside Ms. Lute’s classroom.
She actually did it.
And Angeline would get what she wanted by taking away the same from Cat.
Because this election would now be nothing more than fodder for gossip about the breakup of the beloved “Angeo” or “Leoline” or whatever ridiculousness they were called. Cat could say good-bye to covering a real race that would impress the Fit to Print judges.
Reluctantly, she began to copy down the names just as a hand with perfectly polished coral fingernails appeared over her shoulder and ripped off the sheet.
“Hey, I was reading that!” Cat spun around to see . . .
Angeline.
“No freaking way!” Angeline cried. “I mean, how petty can he be! He can’t do—”
“Breathe, just breathe,” came the calm, soothing voice of Sonya Robins, one of her sister’s best friends. Sonya had dark brown skin, natural brown curls that floated past her shoulders, and soft, caring eyes that encouraged Angeline to follow her lead as she added, “From the diaphragm,” and then inhaled deeply, like she was sitting cross-legged on a mountaintop, breathing in the crisp scent of pine instead of lemon-infused bleach.
A giggle, followed by, “Diaphragm.”
Sonya tilted her head at Riley Donovan. “Again?”
“I can’t help it, Sonya!” Riley, tall and thin and just as pale as a razor clam shell, stifled another giggle. “I swear, every yoga class you drag me to, even when my arms are shaking from a full two minutes in my handstand, I can’t help but picture a cervix every time Amber says, Breathe from your diaphragm.”
Sonya rolled her eyes.
Angeline crinkled the sign-up sheet.
And Cat was outta there.
She nearly ran into Maxine, whose arrival completed the quartet that had been together since seventh grade, when they’d all started at the charter school. Of the four, Maxine was the one Cat could relate to most. Her drive was just as strong as Angeline’s but for something real. While Angeline counted hearts and smiley faces, Maxine spent her time coding them.
Sonya’s focus on “mindfulness” made Cat uncomfortable, like she was being judged for actually planning for her future instead of meditating on how a future could exist if everything was transitory. Her dedication to mastering thyself stood in sharp contrast to Riley’s dedication to mastering the selfie.
Fingers splayed on jutted hip, center-parted blonde hair smooth as glass, a dozen different micro smiles at the ready, Riley existed in perpetual model mode. While she offended as easily as she was offended, her friends were secure enough in themselves to allow Riley to be the one thing she craved most: the center of attention.
Despite sharing a grade—and Angeline—Angeline’s friends had never been Cat’s friends. They were never meant to be. Eleven months older than Angeline, Cat should have graduated along with Stavros and Jen, but she’d been held back in fourth grade, infusing her with a drive that had helped her maintain a 4.0 GPA and a long-harbored resentment of her sister.
“All hail the queen of the humblebrag!” Maxine said, flicking Riley’s ponytail. “And since when are you an expert on cervixes?”
“One of my best friends happens to have an informative YouTube channel celebrating the female body,” Riley said.
“Thanks for the reminder.” Maxine’s response was heavy with sarcasm.
Riley nodded condescendingly. “The price I pay for being such a supportive friend.”
Cat could literally feel her brain cells dying.
Angeline faced her friends, putting her back to her sister. “Seriously, how can you be talking about anything else . . .” She pushed the sign-up sheet into Maxine’s chest. “When this is happening?”
“First, my mom read some ‘news’”—Maxine used air quotes—“online that said coffee’s the road to female hair loss, and she flushed every last bean in the house. The morning after I was up all night debugging the code in the polling app you asked for. Which, by the way, also made me miss the best waves in weeks. So you need to take it down, like, a dozen notches.” While Sonya was closer to Cat’s height—a solid three inches shorter than Angeline—Maxine and her sister were near equals. Maxine met Angeline’s eyes, flattened the crumpled sheet, and read. “Well, well, well, it’s only fourth period, and you might actually have some competition.”
“Emmie,” Cat said reflexively. “She’s really smart. And she’s been on the council before.”
Sonya perched on tiptoes to read over Maxine’s shoulder. “I think she means Leo. Or maybe that Jay Choi . . . I’m getting a strong aura from the curves of his lettering.”