Herwhat?
Sure enough, my sister brought the old megaphone we got from a garage sale when we were kids. I haven’t seen this thing in forever. She holds it up to her lips and turns it on. “Listen up, Brazos High. This is your former queen speaking.”
Heat flushes to my cheeks, but I am here for this, in all of its ridiculous glory. The whole cafeteria goes silent and all eyes turn to my sister, who was hands down, the most popular student when she was in high school. Her popularity is legendary. I didn’t accomplish even a small percentage of her popularity when I started high school. Most people just know that I’m her sister. But that’s why this will work. No one even knows Andrea. Everyone knows Jackie.
My sister continues into her megaphone. “I’m here today to ask you to vote for my little sis, Zara, for homecoming queen. Zara, where are you?” She motions for me to join her on the tabletop.
I climb up and a few people start clapping, Krissy the loudest one of all as she beams at me.
“This is Zara, and you know why she deserves to be queen?” Jackie puts an arm around me, then speaks to the crowd. “She doesn’t deserve to be queen just because I was queen. Not just because our mom was queen, or our aunt and grandmother were queen. Sure, traditions are fun, but that’s not why you should vote for her. You should vote for her because she’s a great friend. A good person. She’s the kind of person who will see someone insulting her online and not say anything. She doesn’t hit back with mean comments or rude pictures. My sister is a kinder person than that. She has the magnanimity of a true queen.”
Oh wow, she’s going all out with big freaking words likemagnanimity. My heart squeezes with gratitude. I knew Jackie would know what to do. I’m not the type of person who sinks so low as to post mean things. But I also don’t know how to win something like this. Jackie does.
“So this homecoming season, vote for Zara. Vote for good. Vote for kindness.”
A few people clap again. Someone cheers. I’m both flattered and also embarrassed. What would Zane say if he saw this spectacle right now?
Jackie reaches into her bag of buttons and holds one up. “I won’t take up any more time of your lunch. I see Mrs. Brantley giving me the stink eye, so I’ll wrap up. Come get your Zara button! And I’ll see you all at the homecoming game!”
She jumps off the table and grins at me. “How’d I do?”
“Better than I expected,” I say with a laugh.
Krissy helps us pass out Vote for Zara buttons to everyone who wants one. I don’t bother looking across the cafeteria to where Andrea and her little band of followers sit. I don’t need to. I can feel their seething jealousy from here.
And it feels amazing.
Thirteen
Zane
After an exhausting weekof helping my parents deal with druggie house squatters and a funeral that only four people besides us attended, I am so ready to go home. It’s Sunday morning and I won’t get much time, if any, to see Zara before school tomorrow. We’ve been cramped in this small hotel room for too long. I’m not a fan of sleeping in a bed next to my parents where there’s no privacy and my dad’s snores are deafening. And most of all, I’m ready to see Zara again.
I talk my dad into letting me leave a little before they do in the morning. They want to stay and eat the hotel’s free breakfast, but I’m sick of free breakfasts, and I’m ready to get home. Plus, I like to drive a few miles over the speed limit to get home faster and my dad is a stickler for driving exactly the posted speed. Following behind him in my truck on the way up here was a nightmare. I can probably shave an hour off the thirteen hour trip by speeding just a teensy bit.
After saying goodbye to my parents in the hotel’s small cafeteria, I rush out to my truck and get on the highway, checking my phone every few minutes. Once I’ve driven out of this crappy town with no good cell signal, my phone finally gets five bars of signal. Woohoo!
I don’t know why Zara didn’t answer the hotels’ satellite phone last night, but I’m dying to talk to her. It’s eight in the morning now, so if I hurry, I can get home and see her by eight o’clock tonight. This upcoming week is Homecoming Week. On Friday, we’ll go to the homecoming dance and get crowned up on stage. That is of course, if I win, which everyone says I will. I’ve decided to ask her to be my official girlfriend on that night. It’ll be a fun memory to take with us into college life and beyond, if I actually do go pro. She’ll be my queen forever.
I drive a few minutes longer to make sure my phone’s signal won’t drop off again. Once it’s had a good signal for a while, I use my truck’s Bluetooth feature to call Zara.
She doesn’t answer. Maybe she’s sleeping late. It is a weekend, after all.
I wait another hour and she doesn’t answer my second call.
The drive is unbelievably boring, and every podcast I can find isn’t enough to entertain me. Around lunchtime, I pull over at a burger place and stop to stretch my legs and get some food. Now that I’m not driving, I send Zara a text.
Me: Hey! I’ve been calling… you there? Your phone broken or something?
I head inside the restaurant and order some food, which I take to a table in the back to eat alone. I kind of want to eat in my truck so I can get home faster, but I don’t want my truck to smell like greasy food for the next few days. I’ll just eat quickly.
My phone buzzes.
Zara: My phone isn’t broken. It’s called “take a hint”.
Me: Huh?
I read over her words again. Take a hint? Who needs to take a hint? I’m so confused.
