Free Winning by Lara Deloza Page A

impending arrival. She won’t be happy either.
    I stand up, careful not to disturb my piles of paper, and step over them. There’s a circle of blank carpet marking where I was sitting. At least she’ll see how hard I’ve been working.

FIFTEEN
Alexandra
    Sam’s frumpy mother frowns at me from across the room. She is always frowning at me. Even when she smiles at me, it’s really a frown wearing a smile’s costume.
    It’s fairly safe to say Jessica Schnitt doesn’t like me.
    That feeling is mutual.
    Even though I’m one of Jessica’s least-favorite people in the state of Indiana, if not the entire world, the woman insists on feeding me every time I come over. My guess is that she wants to make all of the thin people she knows fat like her. Natalie would absolutely die if she saw the things I am forced to eat at the Schnitts’. Homemade macaroni and cheese. Deep-fried chicken tenders. Twice-baked potatoes smothered in some sort of creamy sauce. It’s enough to make a girl go Sloane Fahey once in a while.
    When the torture that is a Schnitt family dinner is over—in addition to the caloric-laden fare, I must also contend with Wyatt’s sad attempts to both flirt with and impress me—Sam and I head up to her room. My thus-far pasted-on smile melts away when I see the piles of “evidence” strewn across her beige carpeting.
    â€œWhat is this?” I demand.
    She fills me in on her afternoon activities. I manage to control my rage, but only just barely.
    â€œYou traded in the sex tape for . . . this ?” I seethe. “Without even asking me?”
    Clearly, this isn’t the reaction she was expecting. “Not the tape,” she says. “Just the affair part. This Ivy thing—it had to be a coordinated effort, right?”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo I was trying to figure out who. And why.”
    I shake my head. I cannot remember a time when I have been more disappointed in Sam. I need to tack in a different direction.
    â€œIt was me, stupid,” I hiss at her. “ I am behind Ivy’s nomination.”
    Sam stands there, her mouth forming a cartoon O. “But why ?” she says finally. “Why would you do that?”
    â€œIsn’t it obvious?”
    She doesn’t respond.
    â€œShe’s my insurance policy,” I say. “My secret weapon.”
    Sam shakes her head. “I still don’t get it.”
    â€œLook,” I say, “no one hates Ivy. They pity her. And now that she’s up for Homecoming Queen, they’ll be talking about her , not that New Girl.”
    â€œOh. I guess that makes sense.”
    This is not the entirety of my backup plan, of course. But Sam doesn’t need to know about the rest. Not yet, anyway.
    â€œSo why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asks, a wounded look on her face. “I would’ve taken care of it.”
    It’s adorable, how sincerely she believes that she alone could have convinced a significant portion of Spencer High’s student body to vote a bona fide pariah into Homecoming contention. And do it without arousing anyone’s suspicions or generating untoward gossip that could blow back on me.
    â€œI needed to keep your hands clean,” I tell her.
    She nods, but I can tell she’s not buying it. Her job is typically keeping my hands clean, not the other way around.
    â€œCan we focus on what’s really important here?” I say. “Erin Hewett and her eleven votes.”
    â€œThat’s a good thing, right? I mean, she barely made the ballot.”
    I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “She got eleven votes after being in my school for all of two days . There’s no telling where she’ll stand in the polls a week from now.”
    There’s no doubt in my mind that Erin Hewett is a threat that needs to be neutralized. I won’t have her waltzing in here at the eleventh hour and stealing Homecoming right