Chapter Thirty-Three
It’s the first day back to school after fall break, and the floors smell like fake lemons and the furniture has been polished within an inch of its life. You can hardly tell none of it came from this century.
We’re all waiting for the Beta Club meeting to start, and the vibe in the room is kind of feral. There are way too many people in here, and everyone’s standing too close together. Thankfully, the only people standing too close to me are Esha and Hayes, and I can handle that.
“Alright.” Mrs. Jacobs gives me this look. It’s a raised eyebrow that’s barely visible. “Though I am loath to interrupt the peace and reignite this war, we do have to discuss our upcoming elections.”
Hayes is standing slightly in front of me, and I can feel the smugness radiating off of him.
I wanted to tell Mrs. Jacobs in advance, and everyone else for that matter, about our plan.
He insisted on this dramatic moment. I tug on one of his belt loops, hoping to silently compel him to tone it down a notch.
His hands reach behind his back and meet in the front pocket of my hoodie. Okay, I’ll take that as a polite no.
We stay like this as Mrs. Jacobs continues on, explaining the rules of the election and taking note of which underclassmen want to run for what positions. Esha shoots me a side-eyed look that tells me Hayes and I don’t look like two people who are about to engage in academic warfare.
“Okay, now that that’s settled,” Mrs. Jacobs mumbles, her eyes drifting from her notes to us.
We’re mostly hidden from view by a crush of other people, but I just know she can see that we’re standing too close.
“I will admit that the last several years’ elections have been brutal.
And there has been some bad behavior.” She’s meeting everyone’s eyes, but I know she’s speaking directly to us.
My cheeks flame at the implication. “I’m reminding us all of that because we need to remain civil.
No matter how bitter a rivalry.” Mrs. Jacobs looks directly at me, and then directly at Hayes.
Can she tell his hands are in my hoodie?
“We need to keep things in perspective.”
I want to tell her she has nothing to worry about. Hayes and I are more than civil. I could shout out what Hayes and I are, but that would be completely inappropriate.
“I’m expecting no takers for the vice president ballot. In the past, we’ve given this position to the candidate for president with the second-most votes. But if anyone would like to run—”
Hayes’s right hand shoots up so fast, I almost flinch. His left hand stays in my pocket, where I’m almost hidden behind his back.
Mrs. Jacobs has stopped speaking entirely, looking at Hayes as if she’s never seen him before.
“You want to run for vice president, Hayes?” she asks, pointing a pencil in our general direction. Her eyes narrow like she doesn’t believe this. Like she thinks this is some elaborate prank. On either side of us, I feel Esha and Luke look at each other, then at us.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Jacobs shakes her head, either in an expression of confusion or an effort to gather herself. “Any other takers?”
The room falls silent. I think I stop breathing for a second, because I was so sure this wasn’t going to work. I was convinced Hayes’s master plan to save us from each other was just too easy. Too good to be true.
But I think it’s working?
“Alright, well, without any contenders, consider the role of vice president yours, Mr. Collins. Congratulations.”
Luke starts a riotous clap, and suddenly everyone in the room is applauding. My hand ventures into the pocket of my sweatshirt, and I squeeze his fingers. More people should randomly clap for him, I think.
“Settle down, settle down.” Mrs. Jacobs doesn’t even raise her voice; she just gives everyone a quelling look. “We still have to decide our president.”
Now it’s my turn to raise my hand.
Mrs. Jacobs nods, scribbles in her notebook. “Okay, Nova. Anyone else?” she asks as a formality. It was always going to be me and him. Her eyes drift around the still-silent room.
Then, something shifts. The barometric pressure, maybe. I feel it like an impending storm. Across the room, Bryce looks at me. He looks at Hayes. There’s something menacing in that look, and I squeeze Hayes’s hand again, this time in alarm.
He’s not going to—
“Me.” Bryce leans back in his chair and chucks his chin.
I thought smugness was a bad look on Hayes.
On Bryce, it’s disgusting. Fucking Bryce.
The audacity to think you can do what he did to Piper and just move on with your life.
To think that you can just keep winning at the expense of everyone else.
But he is on the honor roll. And he is quote-unquote “popular.”
He’s a legitimate threat.
There’s a collective gasp in the room, or maybe that’s just Esha in my ear.
Around me, everything seems to tense up.
Luke radiates an indignant kind of anger, and Hayes’s spine is ramrod straight.
He drops my hand and moves to stand completely in front of me.
This got so aggressive so fast, in a way I could’ve never expected.
“Got it,” Mrs. Jacobs says, not addressing the sudden uncomfortable atmosphere in the room.
She keeps talking, finishing up her announcements and outlining the plan for the election.
I’m only half-listening. I’m sure she warns us all to be civil one more time.
I was so sure we would be, but now I don’t know.
I think of Piper for a second. She’s the only one of us not here right now.
Her grades tanked so badly after the Bryce situation that she got kicked out of Beta Club.
She’s going to have to see the posters of his horrible, smug face all over the place.
She’s going to have to hear about him winning again, with all of his popularity and all of her old friends.
She’s going to feel exactly what I felt last year.
Hayes’s plan was too easy. It was too good to be true.
Just as I have that thought, Hayes turns around to face me. Esha and Luke step forward too, and now we’re in a weird little huddle while everyone else is shuffling out of the room.
“You’re going to win,” Hayes says. He means it, I can tell. He’s fucking pissed, actually. Those sharp angles of his face can be kind of intimidating.
“If I don’t, I don’t.” I shrug, but I feel the horrible urge to cry. I really have to run against a pile of human garbage? Well. That’s democracy, I guess.
“No,” Hayes says. He grips my shoulders just hard enough to make me look at him. “You are going to win, Nova. You’re going to get your revenge, just not on me.”
“Yeah,” Esha steps forward into my field of view, which had narrowed to just Hayes. “You have plans and ideas and us. You have to win.”
I nod, trying to make myself believe that. I do have plans and ideas and them, but Bryce has this charisma he uses to devastate people, and I think he’s going to use it all to destroy me.
“Are you okay, Luke?” Esha asks. I widen my view again, and he does seem to have gone kind of unhinged.
His face is bloodred, and his hands are balled up into fists.
I thought people at this school were above guys fighting over a girl, but if this were an early American novel, they’d be grabbing their pistols and walking ten steps.
“Luke,” I say, trying to get him to meet my eyes. “Be civil, remember?”
“Absolutely not,” he grunts.
“Are y’all done yet?” Piper sticks her head in the doorway.
I know she feels excluded from all this, and it’s Bryce’s fault.
Fucking Bryce. Luke turns toward her, and I watch as his face just …
melts. That righteous anger fades away, even though it was all for her in the first place.
He holds out his arms, and she steps into them like there’s no place she’d rather be.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning her head on Luke’s chest and looking around at each of us.
“We have a problem,” I tell her. “But we’re going to fix it. Actually”—I hear my own voice brighten—”you might be able to help.”