Free My Perfect Life by Dyan Sheldon Page A

raised my voice. “I don’t see what’s wrong with ‘Make Your Vote Count’. I think it’s catchy. And true. And I’m not really comfortable with attacking Carla personally. I mean, two wrongs don’t make a right, do they?”
    Lola’s voice was louder. “We have to hit her where it hurts. We have to crack through that ginormous ego and make the worm within squirm and beg for mercy.”
    A blue balloon drifted down the hallway. “Kill it before it multiplies!” shouted someone in Morty’s room next door. There was a gratifying pop.
    “But what about rules, and principles, and stuff like that?” I asked.
    Sam put a hand on the back of my chair and leaned towards me. “What is it with you, Ella?” He sounded genuinely curious. “What does Carla have to do to get you mad enough to fight her? She uses your mother, she threatens your life, she takes down our posters –
and
she besmirches my good name – and you don’t want to hit her back. Are you a saint, or are you just stupid?”
    “Ella’s shy and retiring,” answered Lola. “She doesn’t like too much confrontation. It’s not the way she was raised.”
    Sam shook his head. He looked more baffled than curious now. “How the hell did you wind up with Lola as your best friend if you’re so shy and retiring and don’t like confrontation?”
    I assumed he was making a joke. I laughed. “Don’t think it’s a question I haven’t asked myself.”
    “You’re being unreasonable, Ella,” said Lola. “We’re not going to do anything despicable and underhand like Carla would. We’re just going to show a little spirit.” She climbed on a chair and shook her fist in the air. “We’re going to make issues an issue, that’s what we’re going to do.” She grinned at Sam. “After we pull out her hair.”
    “Issues not image,” said Sam.
    For a minute there, I almost thought Lola was going to kiss him. I think Sam did, too, because he actually blushed.
    “Sam, you’re a genius!” Lola was jubilant; triumphant. “Issues not image! That’s our slogan! That’s what we’ll do!”
    I could tell that she was a few steps ahead of me again. “What’s what we’ll do?”
    Lola didn’t even look over at me. “This is so incredibly perfect… I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of this before.” She jumped down from her chair, crackling with excitement. “We’re totally changing our tactics. We’re going to contrast our issues with Carla Santini herself.
    I said, “Oh, Lola … I don’t think Sam meant—”
    Sam said, “You what?”
    Lola was practically glowing. “For instance…” She ran her hand over an imaginary sign. “We say something like: ‘What Have You Done for the World Today?’ – and under it we have a photo of Carla putting on make-up.”
    Sam nodded thoughtfully. “It’s good,” he decided. “It’s clever, and it’s funny. It could work.”
    “Of course it’ll work,” declared Lola. “It’s perfect.”
    But now Sam was shaking his head. “Back up the truck just a second,” said Sam. “How are we going to get a photo of Carla putting on her war paint?”
    But there is no problem too great or too small for Lola Cep.
    “You’ve got a camera, haven’t you?” she asked.
    Sam gave her a wary look. “Yeah…”
    “And you do your own developing, right? So you could print them out the same night.”
    “Yeah, but…”
    “And your dad’s got a photocopier at the garage, right? So you could run off the posters there.”
    Sam held up his hand. “Take your foot off the gas, Lola. If you think I’m hiding in the girls’ toilets to catch Carla gluing her eyelashes together you’d better think again.”
    “Oh, no, not you,” said Lola. “You can get the outdoor shots, since you have a car. Ella will get her putting on her make-up.”
    “What do you mean Ella will do it?” Lola really is too much sometimes. “I’m the Presidential candidate, remember? Presidential candidates do not do things like