for a picture in the yearbook. But it was a prestigious position, something colleges “looked at,” and several weeks at the end of eighth grade were devoted to campaigning.
For the past three years, class president had been a two-personrace between Lance and a girl named Ashley. It was usually pretty lopsided. Ashley always won the support of the math club, and one year she had convinced the foreign-exchange student to campaign for her, but everyone else tended to pull for Lance.
“Tell me more about your opponents,” Elliot demanded. “Who are their enemies? What are their weaknesses?”
I glanced across the cafeteria. Lance was leaning back in his chair, but he still towered over all the other boys at his table. He’d recently begun to gel up the front of his hair. It resembled a shark’s fin and made him look even taller than he was already. He was shouting out catchphrases from a movie he had seen recently and everyone around him was laughing hysterically.
“Well, Lance is pretty funny,” I said. “And he’s also really cool.”
I looked at Ashley. She was at the edge of the second table eating apple slices and studying for a French vocabulary test with color-coded flash cards. Whenever somebody made a joke, she looked up from her flash cards, and her halting, nervous laugh invariably silenced the table. People rarely made fun of Ashley, but they tried their best to ignore her. Whenever she said anything, her hands started shaking and her eyes grew wide with panic. It was stressful just to watch.
She wore her auburn hair in a single braid that was so painfully taut it resembled a length of rope. Lance occasionally yanked on it, causing her eyes to well up with tears. It was a doubly cruel gesture, since it also landed her in detention for “being involved in an altercation.” I always felt terrible when Ashley shuffled into Ms. Pearl’s classroom, her eyes downcast to avoid Lance’s smirk. Mydetentions never bothered me. Even if I wasn’t responsible for any of my fights, I was sure I had done
something
over the course of the week to merit punishment. Ashley was completely innocent, though, and her sentence was an outrage. I never told her I felt this way, but once I gave her half a Laffy Taffy, and I think she grasped the import of the gesture.
“Ashley’s not so popular,” I said. “But she’s probably the smartest girl in the grade. I thought she had a chance last year, because Lance didn’t put up any posters or write a speech. But then at the last minute Lance promised a new scoreboard, with a Glendale lion on it, and everyone voted for him. He never got us one, but it was still an awesome idea. West Side Prep has one with a tiger on it and they’re always bragging about it at games.”
Elliot nodded.
“Do either of the candidates have any physical defects?” he asked. “That haven’t been publicly exposed?”
“Geez,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“What are their sexual histories? Have either of them been involved in any scandals?”
I shrugged.
“Don’t worry,” Elliot said. “James will dig up something.”
• • •
After school, Elliot led me into a room I had never seen before, on the fourth floor of his house. It was completely empty, except for a single couch. The walls were bare except for a framed note on the wall directly across from the couch:
Dear Mr. Allagash
,
I apologize for my insensitive comments at the Derby. I did not mean to disparage your horse
.
Sincerely
,
John D. Rockefeller
“It’s one of my family’s most treasured possessions,” Elliot told me, with unusual reverence in his voice. “It was mailed to my grandfather in the twenties.”
I walked over to examine the note up close, but I couldn’t figure out why it was so valuable. I knew Rockefeller was a famous billionaire, but how much could his autograph be worth?
Elliot continued, clearly sensing my lack of enthusiasm.
“Do you know how many letters Rockefeller
For the past three years, class president had been a two-personrace between Lance and a girl named Ashley. It was usually pretty lopsided. Ashley always won the support of the math club, and one year she had convinced the foreign-exchange student to campaign for her, but everyone else tended to pull for Lance.
“Tell me more about your opponents,” Elliot demanded. “Who are their enemies? What are their weaknesses?”
I glanced across the cafeteria. Lance was leaning back in his chair, but he still towered over all the other boys at his table. He’d recently begun to gel up the front of his hair. It resembled a shark’s fin and made him look even taller than he was already. He was shouting out catchphrases from a movie he had seen recently and everyone around him was laughing hysterically.
“Well, Lance is pretty funny,” I said. “And he’s also really cool.”
I looked at Ashley. She was at the edge of the second table eating apple slices and studying for a French vocabulary test with color-coded flash cards. Whenever somebody made a joke, she looked up from her flash cards, and her halting, nervous laugh invariably silenced the table. People rarely made fun of Ashley, but they tried their best to ignore her. Whenever she said anything, her hands started shaking and her eyes grew wide with panic. It was stressful just to watch.
She wore her auburn hair in a single braid that was so painfully taut it resembled a length of rope. Lance occasionally yanked on it, causing her eyes to well up with tears. It was a doubly cruel gesture, since it also landed her in detention for “being involved in an altercation.” I always felt terrible when Ashley shuffled into Ms. Pearl’s classroom, her eyes downcast to avoid Lance’s smirk. Mydetentions never bothered me. Even if I wasn’t responsible for any of my fights, I was sure I had done
something
over the course of the week to merit punishment. Ashley was completely innocent, though, and her sentence was an outrage. I never told her I felt this way, but once I gave her half a Laffy Taffy, and I think she grasped the import of the gesture.
“Ashley’s not so popular,” I said. “But she’s probably the smartest girl in the grade. I thought she had a chance last year, because Lance didn’t put up any posters or write a speech. But then at the last minute Lance promised a new scoreboard, with a Glendale lion on it, and everyone voted for him. He never got us one, but it was still an awesome idea. West Side Prep has one with a tiger on it and they’re always bragging about it at games.”
Elliot nodded.
“Do either of the candidates have any physical defects?” he asked. “That haven’t been publicly exposed?”
“Geez,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“What are their sexual histories? Have either of them been involved in any scandals?”
I shrugged.
“Don’t worry,” Elliot said. “James will dig up something.”
• • •
After school, Elliot led me into a room I had never seen before, on the fourth floor of his house. It was completely empty, except for a single couch. The walls were bare except for a framed note on the wall directly across from the couch:
Dear Mr. Allagash
,
I apologize for my insensitive comments at the Derby. I did not mean to disparage your horse
.
Sincerely
,
John D. Rockefeller
“It’s one of my family’s most treasured possessions,” Elliot told me, with unusual reverence in his voice. “It was mailed to my grandfather in the twenties.”
I walked over to examine the note up close, but I couldn’t figure out why it was so valuable. I knew Rockefeller was a famous billionaire, but how much could his autograph be worth?
Elliot continued, clearly sensing my lack of enthusiasm.
“Do you know how many letters Rockefeller
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