Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Homecoming Queen potential? Please. Callie Carter doesn’t stand a chance.
Instagram caption by @briellewilliamsplus.
“Can she come with us, Callie? Please?” Zeke asks over the phone.
I’m just about to head out the door to pick up Zeke for our trip to MoPop, one of my favorite museums in Seattle.
It’s been forever since I’ve been, and I’m really looking forward to it.
Plus, I think my followers are going to love it.
And in every social media post caption I ask for Homecoming votes and direct them to the voting site.
I hesitate with my hand on the doorknob leading to the garage. The house is quiet besides Butter snuffling around on the kitchen floor, hoping for a treat. Mom’s working with a client in her exercise room, and I can barely hear the muffled beat of the song they’re working out to. Dad’s still in LA.
“Well, I don’t know . . .” I trail off. “The MoPop might be boring for Mia. And some of the exhibits might be scary for a little kid.” I don’t know what is age appropriate for a four-year-old, but I can’t imagine that the horror section of the museum will go over well.
Butter snuffles over to me and tickles my toes with her tongue slurping through my sandals, and I stifle a laugh and dance away.
“Well,” Zeke breathes out. “It’s either that or put it off until next weekend. I have to watch Mia. Mama had an emergency come up.”
“Emergency?” I ask, gluing my phone to my ear with my shoulder so I can sling one arm into my jacket. “Is your mom okay?”
“She’s fine. An older lady in our church fell and broke her hip and had no one to take her to the hospital.”
My heart melts. “Your mama is a sweetheart.”
“Yeah, she’s the best.”
Well, how can I say no to that? Zeke’s looking forward to the museum as much as I am. “Okay. Mia can come.”
“Yes! I’ll have her ready to go,” Zeke says. “I promise she’ll be good.”
I don’t know how he can promise such a thing, but it will be fine, right?
“Oh, Suzy wanted to come, too, so I’ll stop by and pick her up first,” I say.
“Sounds great.”
I hang up and reach for the doorknob when I hear, “How’s the campaigning going, Cal?”
I turn to see Mom striding around the corner, sweat dripping down her temples. She’s wearing a neon orange sports bra that shows off a defined six-pack.
“It’s going great!” I pull up the voting page on my phone and show my mom the results so far. Brielle is at two hundred and sixty votes, and I’m almost to three hundred and fifty.
Mom’s eyes light up. “You’re crushing her! Keep this up and you’ll win the crown no trouble at all. Tell me what you’ve done so far.”
I’m a little annoyed by Mom sticking her nose into everything, but I try to keep a smile on my face.
“Suzy and I printed posters and hung them up, and I handed out ‘Vote for Callie’ badges. I’ve been asking for votes on all my social media posts.
Plus, I have a secret strategy that I think is really working.
” I don’t want to tell her what it is because I don’t know what she’ll think of me associating with gamers, loners, and nerds.
But it’s actually working! My votes skyrocketed after my appearance on Zeke’s channel.
“Good, good.” Mom nods. “Don’t lose momentum now. You’ve only got a few weeks left to secure a win! And remember, I’ll be there.”
Mom strides to the kitchen before I can answer, and I let out a breath.
Just three more weeks, and it will all be over, one way or the other. I’ll either be on top of the world, basking in the glow of Suzy’s happiness and Mom’s approval, or I’ll be at the Homecoming fair getting a banana cream pie smashed in my face with the losers.
I sigh. Butter waddles back over to me and plops her body on my feet.
“I have to go, you little pill.” But I bend down to give her a scratch. She pants, her droopy cheeks in a smile.
I have to stay focused. I’m ahead for now, but a lot can change in three weeks. And losing is definitely not an option. That level of humiliation? There’s no way I could withstand it.
Zeke buckles Mia into her car seat in the back and then walks around the car to sit next to her. He immediately reaches forward for the radio and plugs in his phone, turning on the playlist called “Mia’s Mix”.
A song that repeats the words “Unicorns I love them” over and over bombards my speakers.
Suzy makes a face from where she sits in the passenger seat, looking sharp in high-waisted jeans and a red-striped top. Her long black hair is in a French braid tied with a red ribbon.
Zeke grins, a half-smile that brings out a dimple in his cheek. “You don’t mind, do you? She does a lot better in the car if she has some music to distract her.”
“Unicorns I LOVE THEM!” Mia screams at the top of her lungs.
I cringe. “Of course. This song is a classic.”
Zeke’s smile makes the music and backseat shrieking worth it.
After the car ride from hell, we arrive at the overlook that lets you look at the top of the museum. I park the car and shut off the music so we can take in the view of the museum from above.
“I’ve never seen the museum from the top,” Suzy says.
Zeke leans forward so his head is in the space between me and Suzy. “It looks like someone melted a technicolor guitar.”
I laugh. The roof of the museum is a mishmash of bright colors—scarlet red, cotton candy blue, and emerald green.
There are sections that look like the broken neck of a guitar and another portion that could be the center hole thing where people strum.
“Cool, right? And look right there on the left. I always thought it looked like someone fanned out the skirt of a princess’ gold dress and froze it. ”
Mia perks up. “Princess dress?”
“See?” Zeke says, pointing.
“That’s not a princess dress.” Mia frowns. “Silly Callie.”
I drive around to the front of the museum, where we pay a small fortune for parking and exit the car. Zeke holds Mia’s hand across the parking lot, and she skips along in leopard print pants and a hot pink dress.
Zeke gets the door, and we enter the building.
The MoPop is even better than I remember with its high ceilings and weirdly unique exhibits.
After paying for tickets (I practically have to shove Zeke out of the way so I can pay for my own), we stand before an enormous inverted pyramid of guitars.
I’m flooded by memories. Dad and I used to come here all the time.
We’d get season passes and explore every weekend, and the museum is so big that I never got bored.
The cone is a mishmash of guitars standing every which way, some acoustic, some electric, some bright pink and some neon blue.
They’re stacked clear to the ceiling, where they fan out.
I inhale the scent of old wood. Suzy glances at the sculpture before looking back down at her phone, where she’s tapping away.
Zeke stares, open-mouthed, but Mia pulls on his hand, wanting to keep moving.
I could’ve appreciated the sculpture longer, too, but we move on.
We enter an enormous room that I loved as a kid.
The lighting is dim and hazy, with purple and red and blue all around.
Crowds of people take pictures and laugh, appreciating the exhibits.
An image of Seattle’s nightscape lights up the whole back wall, and it moves, making you feel like you’re really in the city.
Suzy stands off to the side, texting furiously.
“I think we should go back to the idea of making a video. Your votes so far are looking great, but the momentum is waning. If we can get a video persuading people to vote for you in front of the student body, it will hopefully give us the final push we need.”
I nod, but my mind drifts as we continue to walk through the museum. This morning Brielle posted an Instagram story promising a kiss for anyone who could prove they’d voted for her. Ewww. I wonder how Noah feels about that strategy.
“That could work,” I say.
We walk forward, staying within distance of Zeke and Mia without getting too close. I’m sure he doesn’t care about what we’re planning.
“What if . . .” I pause. “Maybe instead of getting on the school news system and making an announcement, we could make a music video?”
“Yes!” Suzy types more notes into her phone. “I love it. That would be way more dynamic and interactive, and we’d hold people’s attention a lot more. What song should we use?”
We look at each other. “BTS, of course!” I say.
“But is everyone as obsessed with them as we are?” she asks. “Will everyone else like it?”
I think for a moment. What would other people think? I can’t help that my thoughts go to Caroline. She would do what she wanted, not caring about other’s opinions. But I don’t have that luxury.
“Let’s think about it,” I say. “Maybe we can ask Cassidy and Brian to run a poll to get people’s favorite bands?”
Suzy’s fingers tap frantically. “Another good idea.”
“This place is amazing!” Zeke holds Mia’s hand, and they wander back toward us.
I smile at Zeke’s enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“The exhibits are so unique and awesome.” Zeke’s grinning, but Mia looks slightly bored and tugs on her hand to get it out of Zeke’s grip.
Suzy waves a dismissive hand without looking up from her phone.
“What?” Zeke turns to her in shock. “You don’t like it?”
Suzy shrugs and finally meets Zeke’s eyes. “Not my thing. I’m not as into art as most Seattle people are.”
“That’s us,” I say. “The land of fanatical art lovers.”
“Fart lovers, we call them,” Suzy says.
“Seattle, land of the fartists,” I say. Suzy looks at me and we both snicker.
Mia guffaws with laughter.
“Great job, you two,” Zeke says. “You got the four-year-old to laugh.”
Our snickers turn into giggles.
We keep walking, Zeke exclaiming over everything, and Suzy and I continuing to brainstorm. It’s funny, the Homecoming crown is all I want, along with everything that goes with it. Humbling Brielle. Showing the whole school what I’m really made of. Making my mom proud and giving Suzy her redemption.