When he walks offstage to wild cheers from our classmates, I glare at him. He winged it. I worked so hard to prepare, and he simply winged a great speech. It’s like he intuitively knows how to bring people together. I wish I had that skill.
If I weren’t running against Alex, I would vote for him.
“You forgot to mention our spring field trip,” I say with a hand on my hip. “You should’ve promised them a trip to Mars.”
He nudges my arm. “Good idea, Wells. Too bad you didn’t think of it before your speech. You could win on a platform like that.”
“A platform of lies?”
“Embellishments.” He blows into the trombone again. Honnnnkkkkk.
I push the instrument away from his face. “Don’t you take anything seriously?”
“Sure.” A lopsided grin appears on his face. “I’m serious about pizza, my dog, and the Atlanta Braves.”
He’s so charming, I can’t help but laugh. “I’m serious about pizza too. I love the veggie pizza you make at Niko’s.” Everybody knows his family owns the Greek place in town.
He cocks his head to the side. “Why haven’t I seen you there before?”
I shrug. “Probably because it’s always so busy.” I nervously swipe a lock of hair behind my ear.
The truth is, I’ve seen him there tons of times.
Niko’s kitchen has a glass wall, so you can watch the cooks assembling pizzas before popping them in a wood fired oven. The first time I ever saw Alex in person, he was kneading and flipping dough, laughing along with a girl who looked a lot like him. Maybe an older sister?
But God, his smile.
I’d seen his picture online before. My cousin Grace had gone to Westwood with Alex, so he popped up on her Instagram from time to time. I couldn’t wait to meet him in high school.
I admit I daydreamed about making out with him at the back-to-school dance. In reality, he didn’t even look my way, much less make out with me.
Then I learned that Alex is popular. Really popular. He’s the kind of guy who never has to worry about walking down the hallway alone. He walks in a pack of other inordinately attractive kids, tossing a baseball to himself, being attractive.
“Next time you’re at Niko’s, say hi to me, okay?” he says. “I’ll add some extra mushrooms to your veggie pizza.”
“I’d like that.”
His eyes flick up and down my body. “I like your overalls. You look like a farmer.”
I give him a look. “Thanks a lot, tromboner boy.”
“Not like, an old man farmer. A cute farmer.”
He starts laughing, and I join in. His joy and silliness is sort of contagious.
When our laughter fades away, he stares down at me and I gaze up at him. Quickly I glance around the dimly lit backstage.
Nobody else is here.
And it’s dark. And he’s so cute. And my heart is going to burst out of my chest.
He clears his throat. “I really do like some of your ideas, Lu.”
“You do?” I say softly, loving how he said my nickname.
He slowly takes a step closer. “Yeah. Especially the recycling.”
My feet move nearer to his. “I liked your ideas too. I mean, I wouldn’t mind driving to school in a limo,” I flirt. It annoys me that I’m still attracted to him, even after he winged his speech. Stupid hormones.
He cracks another smile that makes my body hum in places I’ve never noticed before. When his eyes glance at my mouth, goose bumps explode on my skin.
Alex kneels to set the trombone down on the floor, and when he stands back up, his body is barely an inch from mine.
I lick my lips as his neck curls my way—oh my God, is he going to kiss me?—when the principal pops through the curtains.
Alex and I jump apart from each other.
“Alex, Lulu, it’s time to vote,” Dr. Walters announces, seemingly unaware that he totally ruined the biggest moment of my whole entire life!
The principal holds the curtain open, ushering us out onto the gym floor. Kids are lining up to cast their votes, filling out ballots, and dropping them into cardboard boxes.
Alex and I stand next to each other, not moving, and not looking at each other. I touch my fingers to my throat, hardly believing what just happened. We totally got caught up in the moment. I’m too nervous to look at him.
After what feels like an eon, Alex sticks out his hand to shake mine. “Good luck, Wells.”
I squeeze his fingers. “You too.”
We grin at each other one last time before we separately start lobbying kids in line to vote for us.
At the end of the day, Dr. Walters’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. “We’ve finished tallying the student council votes.” He announces the names of freshman class treasurer, secretary, and vice president first. Depending on who they wanted to win, people squeal in response. I hold my breath, waiting for the finale. “And last but not least, the winner of freshman class president is—
“Alex Rouvelis!”
Today
Freshman Class Trip
Coffee County High’s class trips are generally amazing because a super wealthy graduate of our school started an endowment before he died. Jim Worthington, who had made a fortune on medical inventions, loved traveling and wanted kids from our town to learn about the world.
Of course we have to hold car washes and bake sales throughout the year to make extra money for our travel, but the endowment allows for some nice field trips. The senior year trip is always the best because the school pays most of the cost. My older sister Lila’s class flew to Rome before graduation. That year, the juniors went to Washington, DC. It was a stretch, but I hoped our freshman class trip would be to Miami.
Nope.
We are at the Cumberland Science Museum, which is the last place I would’ve chosen for a field trip.
I am not completely opposed to science—without it, we wouldn’t have electricity or the internet, and I’m a big fan of gravity, but I suck at balancing formulas, and dissecting animals pretty much goes against my entire belief system.
The line to get inside the museum is full of screaming elementary schoolers. One boy is digging out a wedgie. This is definitely not Miami Beach.
Max is standing beside me in line, gently combing his fingers through my hair to find any stray gum.
“I heard there’s an indoor beehive in this museum,” I say. “I hate that. Bees were meant to be free outside. Maybe we can find a way to set them loose.”