Page 37 of Don't Hate the Player
“Is that, like, it, though?” Connor looks at all three of us. “That’s kind of a ‘text me’ thing, no offense.”
“There’s another thing,” I pipe up. “I’m dropping out of the race.”
Connor’s brow scrunches up. “Wait, why? I thought you wanted to be VP.”
“I did, but with field hockey and some . . . other stuff, I don’t think I can do it. We”—I gesture to Penny and Matt—“wanted to offer the slot to you instead.”
“Me?” The scrunch intensifies. “I don’t get it.”
“So,” I begin slowly, “since I can’t do it, I thought about who I could trust to take my place on the ticket, and you were the first person I thought of. We’ve all been friends for so long. I thought of who would support Penny like I would support Penny. And that’s you.”
“I’m not surprised you thought of me,” Connor says, perhaps too ready to believe the pile of garbage I just told him. “I’m very supportive.” He nudges my arm expectantly. What is he even talking about? Is that a bra joke? Happy to clarify; Connor has never seen my bra. Why is he so weird these days? It was only two dates, and if I’m being honest, I had more fun in a thirty-minute car ride on Saturday than I ever . . .
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the table where Jake is sitting with some boys in his class. He catches me looking and betrays nothing with his eyes. Damn, he really is better at being a secret friend than I am.
“So what do you think?” Penny poses the question to Connor directly. “Darwin and Dimeo?”
“Double Ds?” Matt suggests. “Could be a campaign slogan.”
“Well.” Connor squeezes my shoulder. “I don’t love that, but if we get to do this together, I’m in. I think Lia would like that.” He looks down at me fondly, like a farmer showing off a pig that won first prize at the county fair.
“I think you should definitely take my place,” I try to say diplomatically, “but I’m still dropping out. I don’t know how much I specifically can contribute to this alliance,” I add quickly.
“I can think of a few ways you can contribute.” Connor grins. “Emotional support, for one thing”—he pecks me on the cheek—“eye candy, for another.”
Okay, first of all, gross. Second of all, what? I don’t know what forums Connor’s been browsing, but this rapid escalation of maybe-dating to him talking about me like I’m his own personal motivational poster is not what I expected to get out of this conversation. The personal is political for sure, but not that personal. Christ.
To Connor’s credit, he senses my discomfort and tries to backtrack. “And your brain. Because I respect you. Actually, since we’re talking, I was kind of wondering . . .”
“Guys! Connor! Matt!” The only person who could make this lunch more terrible waves at our table from across the cafeteria. Connor waves back, which Audra Hastings takes as permission to strut directly toward us. Not like Audra needs permission to do anything.
“Does Audra just magically teleport to the exact place nobody wants her?” Penny wonders aloud. “Is that what the mean witch cursed her with when her parents stole beans from the garden?”
Audra’s been behaving herself since the field hockey incident last week, which means she’s overdue for some kind of scene. Most of the time she doesn’t bother me, but her crush on Connor and her subsequent decision to brand me as her rival is annoying on principle. As far as enemies go, she’s virtually toothless; Penny and I have privately speculated that if you pull on her hair hard enough, her mask will come off and reveal a spooky old groundskeeper cursing us meddling kids for foiling her plan to do hand stuff with Connor in the bathroom at prom.
“Hey all, big news.” Audra wedges herself between me and Connor on the bench. I cede the territory without a fight. If Connor’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. It strikes me that Connor could be just as happy with Audra as he thinks he is with me, if only he stopped subscribing to the idea that only things worth having must first lead you on a merry, infuriating chase.
“What’s the news?” Matt asks. Unlike Penny and me, he’s fairly Audra-neutral. No one in our social circle has a problem with Matt, so he never has problems with anybody. After witnessing his odd strain of loyalty in action, I think I’m beginning to understand why.
“Is this from the sushi place?” Audra asks, picking up the plastic tub of rapidly liquifying ice cream.
“Yup,” I answer curtly. “Connor brought me matcha ice cream. What’s the news?” Lunch is almost over, and I’d love it if Audra went away to save me a little time.
I’m out of luck. She leans toward Connor with zero subtlety and all but purrs, “I looove matcha. Why didn’t I get anything?”
Something dawns on Connor’s face. His smirk makes me think he enjoys feeling like the payload on this incredibly boring game map. If he thinks I’m going to beat Audra’s ass for flirting with him, he’s going to have to live with disappointment. “I can get you one next time. Lia’s a matcha girl too.”
Sure. We’ll go with that. “Yes, I love it. Love leaves, love eating them on purpose. Are you going to tell us the news or what?”
“Oh, right!” Audra giggles like she completely forgot the reason she sat down and wasn’t stalling to keep us in suspense. “I’m running for class president.”
Across the table, Penny’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “You’re what?”
“I just got back from Principal Klein’s office. I’m running!”
Instinctively, I scoot a few inches away on the bench like Audra is about to spontaneously combust. She can’t run for president. It’s already one week into the campaign period.
Matt says what I’m thinking and asks, “Hasn’t the deadline passed? How did you swing that?”
