Free Cast Your Ballot! by Rachel Wise Page A

be a new VP candidate in town.
    Upstairs, I had three IMs from Michael. The first one was kind of jokey. It said:
    Saw the photo online of you and the next prez. Cozy.
    The next one said:
    It’s all over Cherry Valley. Are you two a thing?
    The third one said:
    Sam, call me please.
    I gulped and sat back in my desk chair. Michael calls me Sam only when he’s serious or upset. This could be either. Or both. I drummed my fingers on my desk and tried to work up my courage to call Michael. Just then the phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I ran into the upstairs hall to answer it, but Allie had already picked up. It was Jeff Perry. By the time she was done shouting at him, I didn’t even need to speak to him. I just gingerly hung up the receiver and stood there with a small smile on my face. Luckily, Jeff Perry has an ego the size of an RV, so Allie’s dressing-down wouldn’t mortally wound him. He’d just take it in stride and look for the next opportunity to create chaos with a photo. And that’s why he’ll make a great paparazzo one day.
    I lifted the receiver again and sighed in relief when I heard the dial tone. With shaky fingers and a dry mouth, I dialed Michael’s number (yes,people, I know it by heart) and prayed he wouldn’t answer. But he did. On the first ring.
    â€œHello?” he said.
    â€œMichael?” I said.
    â€œSam,” he said, sounding serious. “What’s up?”
    â€œWell . . . a lot? I guess?”
    He sighed heavily. “Are you . . . ? I mean . . . Do you . . . ?”
    â€œI don’t like Anthony Wright like that,” I blurted. “I am impressed by him, but it’s not romantic. Jeff snapped that photo right at the end of the interview as I was pitching the idea of Allie helping him with his image. You can ask Anthony if you don’t believe me.”
    There was a heavy silence at the other end of the phone.
    â€œHello?” I said.
    â€œYeah,” said Michael dejectedly.
    â€œWhat, are you bummed that I don’t like him?” I said, laughing nervously. “What’s up?”
    â€œNo, I just . . .”
    â€œNot impartial enough for you?” I joked.
    â€œSomething like that,” said Michael with a humorless laugh.
    There was an awkward silence. I was dying to tell him I’d never like anyone else, but I was too scared and shy. Anyway, I wanted him to be the first to say it.
    â€œLook . . .” “I . . .” We both spoke at the same time.
    â€œSo . . . um, are we all set for lunch on Monday?” I asked.
    â€œSure,” said Michael in relief. “Yes. That sounds great.”
    â€œOkay then,” I said. “Let’s work on merging our rough drafts tomorrow, then we can divide it up for the final draft. We might need to meet after school on Wednesday just to finalize.”
    â€œSounds good. Later, Paste,” he said.
    â€œLater, Mikey,” I said, and smiled at the phone after I hung it up.
    I sat at my computer and worked on my rough drafts for the interviews for about an hour; then I went to see what was up at campaign headquarters. The three of them had rolled up their sleevesand were working on Anthony’s speech, and Allie was showing him how to stand and how to move as he delivered it and made his important points. It was pretty impressive that she just knows this stuff intuitively. I forgot she was my sister for a second and just stood watching her in her element. She was also counseling him on opening with a joke. She said it would be best if it wasn’t scripted, but rather spontaneous. Something he could work in from the day’s news or something that happened. Anthony seemed scared and frustrated by this idea, since he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
    â€œI’m not very funny . . . ,” he was saying.
    â€œI