Page 57 of To Love or to Lose
“What?” Eloise’s choked shock is clear.
Winnie and I laugh. “Do you mean I look shocked beyond belief, or I look like I’m in love with her too?” I joke.
“Hm.” Winnie pretends to weigh the options for a moment before saying, “The juries are still out on that one.”
This time, all three of us laugh, and at the same time, I lock eyes with a pair of deep brown ones across the room: Jameson.
I feel a palpable connection that makes me want to look away, to break eye contact. I can’t stand the fact that I know what it feels like to be mere millimeters between each other, and to feel the rebellion of being seconds away from making a grave mistake.
Then again, part of me continues to wonder if it would have truly been a mistake, or if it would have created a reason to mend our resentment.
Although, whether it would or would not doesn’t matter, because I can’t have feelings getting involved when I have a title to win.
“I know the situation is not necessarily ideal.” Headmaster Whiting is teetering further and further onto thin ice with every word. “But the two of you are going to have to find a solution.”
I look at Genevieve, knowing his statement is directed at her. I'm not the one unwilling to compromise.
We are sitting in the same seats we sat in on the first day of school when Headmaster Whiting originally instilled Genevieve’s hatred in me.It has not been an easy couple of months trying to settle this feud between Genevieve and me.
Ever since the argument we had on Thanksgiving, everything surrounding the situation between Genevieve and I has become substantially more informal.
“What type of merits are you claiming to have been enforced?” Genevieve leans forward in her chair, her elbows resting on her thighs. “Because to me, it seems as if these so-called ‘merits’ haven’t been updated since the late eighteen hundreds.”
“The reasons for the way we run things around here are not up for student debate. You are not required to understand them, but you are required to abide by the rules that are put in place.”
That’s some teacher bullshit, if I've ever heard it.He basically just told her, “I know our rules are fucked up, and you're probably right about them being outdated, but you're just going to have to suck it up.”
“I think those rules are, by law, allowed to be questioned when the integrity of your school is at stake,” she spits back, and I can’t help but agree with her.
To some, how this school runs things may seem simply ‘old-fashioned,’ but to me, it seems wrong. This school prides itself on producing respectful and responsible students, but its entire system is built off sexism and social constructs that were meant to be laid to rest decades ago.
And although I don’t believe sexism is theentirereason, I was offered the secondary position as Valedictorian, I now think it may have played a part.
That’s when the idea hits. “Headmaster Whiting, I think it would be best if Genevieve and I could configure this speech with no supervision.”
He makes a face like he’s considering it, but then says, “Well, that’s not really proper protocol for something of this nature.”I don't think sexism is proper protocol either.
I manage to form a respectful response instead, regardless of what I truly want to say. “Headmaster, sir, Genevieve and I have proven to be trustworthy students, and I think our speech would be more cohesive if you would give us complete creative freedom—within reason, of course.”
I look at Genevieve, giving her a face that’s practically begging her to go along with my idea. I know she doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to trusting me, but I hope she will go along with me just this once.
She looks away from my pleading gaze and toward Headmaster Whiting. “I would agree to sharing a speech with Jameson under those conditions.”
I almost leap out of my chair in pure joy. This is a monumental moment for me—the first time Genevieve has ever agreed with me on anything.
“Okay then.” Headmaster accepts my proposal. “But before you two get started, I want you to understand the trust I am putting in you. Please, don’t do anything that will make a mockery of me or my school.” He jots something down in his notebook before shutting it.
Genevieve and I nod simultaneously. “We understand.”
“I would also suggest that you start drafting the speech now. The closer we get to the end of the year, the more the two of you will have on your plates.”
Once we agree to Headmaster Whiting’s conditions, he informs us that we will be the sole leaders of the Class Officers Committee since none of the teachers offered to run it this year.
“I’m trusting you both, please don’t let me down,” he finally says.
“We won’t”
When we walk out of his office, I don’t think I could be any happier.
