“Ugh,” Max says, and I giggle.
“Ryan McDowell,” Coach Rice warns, “I swear to God, if you moon me again, you’re not starting in tomorrow’s game.”
The butt disappears, and Ryan’s headful of red hair pops back up. As I laugh along with everybody else who isn’t grossed out, I discreetly peek at Jonah. He’s staring at another girl.
Max elbows me. “Stalker.”
“But he’s totally checking out Dana.”
Max waves a hand dismissively. “I heard she gave some junior a hand job. That’s why all the guys are looking at her.”
“Because they think she’ll give them one?”
Max shrugs.
I peek over my shoulder to find Jonah putting a pair of headphones on. Lightly bobbing his head to the music, his eyes continue sweeping over the girls. I hope he’ll look my way. A couple of weeks ago at the movies, he was definitely checking me out. That is, until Alex Rouvelis made a rude comment about me, effectively chasing Jonah off that night.
Look at me, look at me, I chant in my mind.
But he doesn’t. His eyes stop on Dana again. The other day, I saw her bending over beside her locker, putting her books in her bag. Her jeans slipped down to where I couldn’t avoid seeing her pink thong. Those things look super uncomfortable.
“Should I get a thong?” I ask Max in a rush.
“If your dad found out, he’d make you join a convent.” Max pulls the gum from his mouth and tosses it out the window.
Two seconds later, I hear a boy say, “Shit, there’s gum in my hair.”
“Crap.” Max ducks his head. “It must’ve flown back in a window.”
I crack up, clutching my best friend’s elbow.
A few seconds later, my mortal enemy is standing above me.
“Hey, Alex,” I say. “You’ve got gum in your hair.”
“Wells,” he replies, addressing me by my last name like he always does. “Is this your gum?”
“No,” I reply, laughing again.
And that’s when Alex pulls the gum from his hair and sticks it in mine.
Asshole.
September
Freshman Year
Half the time I want to kiss him. The other half? I want to kill him.
That’s what I’m thinking on Election Day as I’m waiting backstage to give my speech for class president.
While I’ve been carefully reading through my notes one last time, my competition—Alex Rouvelis—is nosing around the ancient musical instruments that have been abandoned backstage.
I flip to my next note card, sneaking peeks at Alex out of the corner of my eye.
He picks up a rusty trombone, pushes the slide up and down between his legs and says, “Hey, Wells, check it out. I have a tromboner.”
I burst out laughing, which makes him grin.
Then I wipe the smile off my face. I can’t show weakness by laughing at his boner joke. I need to stay focused so I can win my campaign.
I’ve been working on my speech all week. Like in middle school, Max helped me make posters. We went for an animal-themed campaign with signs like VOTE FOR LULU! SHE’S GOT THE RIGHT KOALAFICATIONS. When I was hanging my posters everywhere, I kept an eye out for Alex’s. I needed to see what I was up against.
Alex hung exactly one poster: PLEASE VOTE FOR ME. I ALREADY TOLD MY MOM I WON.
I smile to myself. His sign was pretty hilarious, but also? This will be easy. How can he win if he didn’t campaign?
Out onstage, the principal thanks the kids who gave speeches for vice president. Then he announces my name. “Lulu Wells! Lulu is our first candidate for freshman class president.”
Alex blows into the trombone. “Good luck, Wells!”
I shake my head at him and march confidently from behind the curtains onstage to a friendly smattering of applause, especially from kids who came from Coffee County Middle School. I’d been class president there for the past three years.
I’m still getting to know the people from Westwood Middle School, and as I stand in front of them, I wish I knew each and every one of their names. I should’ve tried to introduce myself to more of them. My sweaty palms leave damp splotches on my note cards.
I smile at the crowd and speak strongly and clearly into the microphone. “Hi, everybody, I’m Lulu Wells, and I want to talk to you about trash.”
The crowd is dead silent.
I cough into my fist. “That’s right. Trash. I’m running on a platform of creating a more sustainable, green school. My first act of business will be to create a trash committee so we can get in control of our recycling.” The crowd groans and a boy in the front row rolls his eyes, but I press on, outlining my other ideas—planting a school garden, installing air purifiers in classrooms, and approaching the school board about installing solar panels on the roof.
I spot one girl nodding off. A couple in the back row appears to be fooling around. This is a complete disaster.
I end my speech on a high note: “And finally, I think study hall should be turned into a meditation hour so we can hone our creativity.”
I grin when kids cheer for that one. “Thank you, everybody! Don’t forget to vote for me, Lulu Wells, for class president.”
Some people in the crowd clap politely, but most kids are checking their phones as I walk backstage. My face burns red at how bad my speech went. The audience didn’t care at all. The student council plans the homecoming week festivities, runs the Thanksgiving food drive, and picks out the themes for dances. It’s a big deal. But it could be so much more.
When it’s time for Alex’s speech, he walks out not carrying note cards, but that stupid trombone! Alex blows into it. Honnnnkkkkk.
I peek out from behind the curtain to see the crowd laughing.
“I’m Alex Rouvelis, and I’m running for freshman class president. If you elect me, you’re gonna see a lot of changes around here. First up, we’ve gotta get rid of these hard, wooden desks. I don’t know about y’all, but my butt falls asleep. All. The. Time. That’s why I think we need couches in class. And forget school buses. We’re gonna start traveling to school in style. In limos!” Kids in the audience start heckling him.
“Just kidding, just kidding.” Alex sets the trombone on the floor, grabs the microphone, and proceeds to give an off-the-cuff speech. “For real, though, I am running for class president because I care a lot about school spirit. At Westwood, I loved putting on my baseball uniform and representing you guys on the field. I haven’t had a chance to meet all of you from Coffee County Middle yet, but I know we’re going to be a great freshman class. No matter if you’re in the drama club, or the math team, or play football, you represent our school. And I want to represent you on the student council to make it even better. Go Raiders!”