by Laura Wood
“It’s cheddar, I think!” I beam encouragingly. “Although I’m partial to a bit of Edam myself.”
“What are you on about?” he says gruffly, staring at me from under a pair of quite bushy eyebrows.
“CHEEEEESE,” I say loudly and slowly, as he seems to be having difficulty grasping the basic fundamentals of making conversation.
The boy boggles again, his eyes sweeping over me to take in the lacy yards of material that make up my costume. “Weirdo,” he mutters finally, darting past me to grab a sausage roll in his meaty fist and then turning away.
I sigh. Not a promising start.
I try to make conversation with a couple more people when they come to get their drinks, but they seem a bit startled by my costume. Perhaps I should take off the hat? It is quite wide. We made it out of the one Mum sometimes wears to weddings and it’s a bit big for me.
Just as I’m about to give up, a voice pipes up from beside me. “I like your costume.”
I swing around to find myself facing a small girl with a goatee. Further examination reveals that the goatee has been drawn on with eyeliner. Her fair hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. She is wearing a pair of pale trousers tucked into riding boots, a waistcoat with a white lacy ruffle poking out the top and a long blue coat with shining gold buttons.
“Oh wow!” I exclaim. “You’re Alexander Hamilton!” Hamilton is my favourite musical. It’s sort of about this orphan who climbs his way to the top and helps America to beat Britain in the American revolution but it’s mostly about these really cool sisters who are all clever and noisy and think women should have the same rights as men. It’s brilliant and the music … is … the … BEST.
The girl grins at me and her grin is a friendly, shining beacon of joy.
I can feel a glow spreading through me, right into the tops of my ears and my fingertips. Is it possible that I have finally found a potential friend?
“I’m Effie,” I say.
“Angelika,” the girl replies. “I actually thought about coming as Angelica from Hamilton, but I worried the big skirts might get in the way.”
“You’re not wrong there,” I mutter, tugging at my dress again.
Angelika laughs. “Plus I thought I’d rock the goatee.”
“Well, you were right about that too,” I say. “It’s a really good costume.”
“So is yours.” Angelika’s face is approving.
“I’m glad someone likes it,” I say quickly. “I don’t know anyone and you’re the first person to talk to me all afternoon.”
“Don’t worry,” Angelika grins, showing off very straight, pearly white teeth. “I won’t abandon you. I’m so glad there’s someone to talk to – I thought this party was going to be SO boring.”
“Why did you come then?” I ask, puzzled.
Angelika rolls her eyes. “My parents made me. My dad works with Katie’s dad. We’ve known each other since we were little, we used to be really good friends actually.” She frowns here, her eyes flickering in Katie’s direction. “Not so much after we started secondary school though.”
“Do you go to Highworth Grange?” I ask hopefully. Maybe this really is the pal I’ve been looking for. “I don’t remember seeing you around.”
“I’ve been off for the last couple of weeks,” Angelika says. “Some gross flu-type thing that had snot exploding out of my face. I’m better now!” she exclaims, catching the flicker of alarm in my eyes. “So, you must be new then?”
“Yes,” I say with a heavy sigh. “It’s been pretty rubbish actually, not knowing anyone.”
“Well, you know me now.” Angelika smiles, and it’s like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. I’ve made a friend! My first new friend. I’m suddenly very glad that I let Mum and Dad talk me into coming.
Angelika and I chat for a while, not about anything particularly important. It is easy and relaxed, and at one point she has me laughing so hard that tears stream down my face and I clutch my stomach, unable to breathe. It’s the kind of laugh that really seals a friendship, like the perfect cherry on an ice cream sundae.
I tell Angelika about how I’ve been moping around the school alone, about how horrible eating lunch by myself has been. “I think there should be more ways to stop people from feeling lonely at school,” I say. “Like having a mentor to show you around and introduce you to people and make sure you don’t have to sit by yourself and feel like an outcast.” Angelika is nodding in agreement. “And,” I add, warming to the subject, “there should be way more clubs and activities happening at lunch breaks… That way people would have more places to go and meet new people outside of lessons.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely right about that.” Angelika nods again and slurps some lemonade from her glass. “I’m the secretary on the student council,” she says, and I perk up at this. Finally, someone on the inside. Now I might be able to find out a bit more about how things work. “We’re supposed to be in charge of the funding for the clubs and societies,” Angelika continues, “but the money always ends up going to the boys’ sports teams.” She sighs, and I can hear my heart thumping in my ears.
“The boys’ sports teams?” I repeat dangerously.
“Oh yeah,” Angelika says. “They’re always OK, because the captain of the football team and all his pals run the council. I vote against them a lot, but it doesn’t make much difference.”
“I can’t believe it!” I yelp. “Aaron Davis is more evil than I originally thought! Our school is being run by a corrupt government!” I shake my head. “Now I really need to win,” I say, almost to myself.
“Wait!” Angelika exclaims. “You’re the girl who had the big fight with Aaron Davis in the canteen over a piece of cake?” She smacks her head with her hand. “Of course you are!”
I groan. “It wasn’t really a big fight,” I say. “And how did you even hear about it if you haven’t been at school?”
“No, no, I think it’s brilliant!” Angelika interrupts. “Everyone was talking about it when I arrived. He’s so arrogant, no one in the school ever stands up to him.”
“He did seem like a bit of a jerk,” I say, forgetting my resolution to keep things civil.
“Oh, he is,” Angelika agrees. “He and Katie make a perfect pair. I’m surprised he’s not here actually.” She swings around, eyeing up the crowd that has built up around us.
“He knows Katie?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Angelika nods. “They’re sort of girlfriend and boyfriend … well, sometimes. He’s the year above us, of course, so he’s got a huuuuuge fan club in our year.”
“Oh.” I let that sink in. “I’m a bit worried,” I admit, after a moment. “Because I did sort of threaten to run against him for junior student president.”
“What, really? That’s what the fight was really about?” Angelika’s eyes gleam.
“Yes,” I say, “but I didn’t exactly think it through. I’m not completely sure where to start. It’s pretty tough to run a whole campaign by yourself when you don’t know anyone … and no one knows you.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about doing it alone any more, do you?” Angelika quirks an eyebrow and throws her arms wide open. “You’ve got a campaign manager … me!”
CHAPTER Seven
I think Mum and Dad are almost as relieved as me when I tell them about meeting Angelika on the way home. Even Lil, who is strapped into the back seat of the car, gives a cheer and starts chanting, “EFFIE HAS A FRIEND, EFFIE HAS A FRIEND, EFFIE ISN’T GOING TO DIE ALOOOOOOONE,” which is, I guess, a nice sentiment, if a little extreme.
I settle back and lean my forehead against the cool window, my oversized hat flung on to the seat between us, replaying the afternoon in my head. It wasn’t just Angelika’s enthusiasm for the campaign that made me feel better. Sometimes you meet someone and you know straight away that the two of you are going to be friends. It’s as if your brains are sending out matching wiggly brainwaves and your ideas fall all over each o
ther and you can’t talk fast enough because you want to say EVERYTHING to each other all at once.
Angelika and I are going to start laying out our plans on Monday and I am already fizzing over with ideas. Talking about the campaign has left me feeling so inspired. I may have been dragged into this by a fight over a piece of cake, but now that I’m here I’m starting to see all the different ways that I could make a difference, the ways me and Angelika could work as a team to make our school a better place. All we have to do is find out all the rules and all the different steps to create a smooth path to victory. I asked Angelika at the party why she wasn’t running for president herself, but she said she’s more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person.
“What we need,” she said with a grin, “is someone who isn’t afraid to make a bit of noise.” She tipped her head to one side. “Are you ready to be extra noisy, Effie Kostas?”
“I WAS BORN READY!” I yelled, and heads turned in our direction as the two of us burst into giggles again.
It’s just so exciting, and funny how sharing the idea of the campaign with someone else has made it seem so much more manageable. Now, I realize, I’m actually looking forward to going back to school.
The weekend passes in a blur of unpacking. It looks like we’re finally finished, and with all the boxes out of the way, our little wonky house, truly feels like home. Dad makes banana pancakes with maple syrup on Sunday morning to celebrate, and even yet another mandatory viewing of Frozen is not enough to dampen my good mood. In fact, as I snuggle under a blanket on the sofa, watching Lil’s lips move in time with every single word, I feel a warm sense of happiness and purpose that I haven’t felt for a while. I feel like me again. Not sad, lonely Effie, but really, properly me. I’m back, baby!
The Highworth Grange Chronicle Issue No. 201
MYSTERY GIRL IN CONFRONTATION WITH STUDENT PRESIDENT
By Catriona McGiddens
… Students were left STUNNED on Thursday when an unknown girl got into a very LOUD and AGGRESSIVE argument with junior student council president, Aaron Davis. I spoke to several witnesses who described the girl as “quite small” but with “properly enormous hair”. It would seem that the argument erupted over a piece of cake, although reports differ as to what kind of cake was at the centre of the brawl. “It was carrot cake,” one source insisted, while another claimed they would “bet my chicken nuggets it was VICTORIA SPONGE”. Whatever the cause of the showdown, everyone agreed that it concluded with the unknown girl threatening to run against Aaron for president. Who is this mystery girl? Will she really run? And does she have a dangerous obsession with baked goods? ONLY TIME WILL TELL…
My Monday gets off to a great start when I arrive to find Angelika waiting for me at the school gates. “Hi!” she calls.
“Hi!” I reply with a grin. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the goatee.”
Angelika strokes her chin sadly. “I actually quite liked it,” she confesses.
“Me too,” I agree, and we make our way into the main building.
It turns out that Angelika is in almost all of my classes, and when she carefully unpacks not one, not two, but three different coloured binders bristling with neon Post-it notes I almost get to my feet and applaud.
When lunchtime rolls around Angelika and I head to the library to try to find out the rules for running for election. The library has been one of the safe places that I’ve been escaping to during my lonely first weeks. It is warm and cosy and full of books – perfect if you’re feeling sad and on your own.
Since we don’t have a proper librarian any more (a complete CRIME, if you ask me, and something that I would definitely take a good look at if I were prime minister) the teachers take it in turns to man the desk on their lunch break. Today Miss Sardana is in there, wearily slurping at a bowl of soup. She seems a bit surprised by our question about the election.
“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully. “I’m not exactly sure what the rules are.” Her eyes narrow. “We haven’t had a proper election before, I don’t think. Honestly, girls, I think most years there’s only one person who runs. Sometimes no one runs at all and then the teachers have to try and persuade someone to volunteer. Are you sure it’s something you really want to do? As I understand it, Aaron is happy to run again, so there’s no need.”
“Well, I think there’s a need!” I exclaim hotly. “This year there’s a high-stakes bitter rivalry at the centre of things, and an evil tyrant to defeat, so we definitely need to know all the rules.”
“In that case I expect you need the school handbook,” Miss Sardana sighs, apparently not moved by my urgent tone.
“Of course!” Angelika smacks her hand against her forehead. “How could I not have thought of that? Do you have one here?”
“I think so.” Miss Sardana reluctantly pushes her soup to one side. “Hang on, and I’ll go and get it from the office.”
When she returns, Angelika and I take the folder from her and sit at a table before diving in. Whoever wrote the school handbook did a pretty terrible job. There’s no logical flow and no handy index, not even some well-placed multicoloured dividers. I tsk over this, pointing it out to Angelika, who groans in agreement. Finally, we track down the page we have been looking for and I copy the relevant rules neatly into my notebook. They look like this:
•All candidates who wish to run for student council must add their names to the sign-up sheet by the specified date.
•Candidates for junior and senior president will take part in a debate outlining their vision for the role.
•Candidates for junior and senior president may campaign using posters and/or flyers in approved areas.
•Candidates for junior and senior president are required to hold a stall at the student fair to raise money for the PTA. This is a demonstration of both the community spirit and organizational skills that are fundamental to the position.
•The election will take place during morning registration on an agreed-upon date before the Christmas break. Students in years 7–9 will vote for junior council positions, years 10–11 for senior council positions. The votes will be counted by group tutors and tallied and announced in an assembly later that afternoon.
It isn’t exactly like running for prime minister, but at least now I can see that there are different steps that we can work towards. Some of the points are a bit vague… I don’t know what the student fair is, and there are no actual dates on this, so I guess we’ll have to ask someone else about that. I glance over at Miss Sardana, but I think we’ve taken up enough of her lunch break for today. There’s one other point further down the page that I notice and make a note of.
•Student councils will be responsible for the distribution of petty cash to all extracurricular clubs and societies.
Well, Angelika was right, that certainly explains why the football team are raking in the funds. I blow out a slow, angry breath. NOT ON MY WATCH, AARON DAVIS, my internal voice shouts, and I feel my fist clenching as though it’s about to wave dramatically at the skies. The more I find out about the job of junior class president, the more I see that it is wasted on evil Aaron. Just think about all the good he could be doing, all the responsibilities he is just ignoring. Someone needs to take a stand, and that someone is definitely going to be me.
We gather our stuff and head to the canteen with some speed to make sure we don’t miss out on getting something to eat for lunch. Angelika introduces me to a few of her friends. They’re not in the same classes as us so I haven’t seen them around, but Angelika has been pals with most of them since primary school. At first I feel a bit nervous about meeting them. I’ve only got one friend, after all, and I can’t really afford to share her. But the others seem really nice too, and we spend most of the lunch break chatting. There’s one girl in particular called Jess who I get on well with. Jess is tall, with long red hair that falls in thick waves down her back. Her pale face is covered in freckles and her eyes are a greyish green colour. She talks in quite a
loud, flat voice and doesn’t seem to like making eye contact with people. That doesn’t get in the way of us bonding over our shared love of musicals and videos of dogs being reunited with their owners.
As we sit talking away I can feel myself starting to relax. Looking around the canteen I finally stop seeing it as some kind of horrible wasteland where I find myself alone and miserable, and instead I take a moment to enjoy the cheerful chatter, the warm glow of the fluorescent lights, the weirdly comforting smell of school dinners. My moment of calm is broken when a familiar figure walks past. It is Aaron Davis – he of the perfectly floppy hair and air of extreme entitlement. His eyes don’t even twitch in my direction, but I notice that Katie is beside him, clamping his fingers firmly between her own, and she does treat me to a smirk and a toss of her glossy brown hair.
Angelika snorts. “Looks like those two are back together again.” A mischievous gleam enters her eyes. “HI, KATIE!” she shouts without even a pinch of warning to me. “I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!”
Grudgingly, Katie swings around and Aaron, still superglued to her side by the apparently unbreakable hand-holding, is forced to join her.
“What is it?” Katie huffs.
“Not a big deal,” Angelika sings sweetly. “I just wondered if I left my duelling pistol at your house?”
Katie looks startled, and so does Aaron. In fact, he’s eyeing my new friend with something that looks a bit like fear. Good, I think, hiding a smile behind my hand. “What?” Katie manages.
“It’s not a real one, obviously,” Angelika explains patiently. “I made it, as part of my costume.”
“Oh.” Katie’s face clears. “No, I haven’t seen it.” She shrugs. “Must have been chucked away with the decorations.”
“Oh, and you remember Effie, don’t you?” Angelika gestures to me, and I choke a little on my chocolate milk.
“Yeah.” Katie barely glances at me. “Hi.”
“Hello!” I exclaim, trying to look friendly.
