Vote for Effie

by Laura Wood

  I try to imagine how, years from now, in a documentary about my rise to power, my fellow students will be interviewed, tearfully talking about the way I changed their lives. “Effie just made us care,” someone will say, through a broken sob. “Because of her we realized that things could change for the better if we just worked together.” Then there will be stirring music and I will appear shaking my head modestly and enveloping them in a warm hug and then we’ll both cry at how much we’ve grown and changed. I sigh happily, thinking about all the ways we can make a difference.

  Take the girls’ football team, for example. It has taken over a week of lunch breaks, but eventually me and Ruby have twelve whole names on our list. Fortunately, none of them is mine. If we couldn’t find enough people then I would obviously have volunteered, but I’m pretty sure the team would not have benefitted from my participation. I have decided instead to be their biggest, most loyal fan. I am really good at waving banners and shouting.

  It took a long time and a lot of people staring blankly at us like they couldn’t work out what we were doing, but once word got around about the team, quite a few girls stopped by our sign-up table. Mostly they were just interested in what we were doing – and a few had obviously heard about my run-in with Aaron and wanted to know what all the fuss was about – but slowly, we started to get more names on the list. Even though not everyone signed up, there are lots of girls – like me – who aren’t great at football but who really support the idea. I think that the team will have a big fan club at their first match. Ruby is definitely pleased, and she’s roped her dad in to coach the team so Mrs Gregory has signed off on them using the field. AND all the equipment that was in our campaign HQ is finally going to be put to good use. Everyone wins.

  Even though I am not school council president (not YET anyway) it is nice to feel like I can still make a difference. Even if it’s just small things, a little bit at a time, it’s good to see things change. There’s going to be a girls’ football team now and I enjoy thinking about Luke-the-baboon’s face when they become a big success. That’ll show him.

  That evening Angelika comes over to our house for dinner and we don’t talk about the campaign at all. Instead we do our maths homework up in my room as quickly as possible while munching on Lil’s secret Haribo stash. As the sun sinks outside and we make our way downstairs, Dad lights a fire in the sitting room and a cosy glow falls over the rest of the night. It’s actually really nice to have a break from the campaign and to remember that there is other important stuff going on, like takeaway pizza and cheesy action films and those sticky nose strip things that pull out all your blackheads and are so disgusting in the most satisfying way ever. We sit on the sofa with Lil, and Dad makes us strawberry milkshakes with real ice cream in and – after Lil makes a fuss – whipped cream on top as well. “AND THERE’D BETTER BE A FLAKE IN THERE TOO,” Lil yells.

  When Mum gets back from the library she does French plaits in our hair, which is the one skill that Dad can’t seem to master, and as I sit on the floor with her fingers gently untangling my curls I feel really happy. When Angelika’s mum arrives to pick her up we’re in the middle of performing the Schuyler Sisters song from Hamilton and she comes inside to watch me, Angelika and Lil prance around, singing into our hairbrushes and thrusting our fists in the air.

  Afterwards, Angelika leaves and I make my way upstairs, a contented sigh on my lips. It’s nice to have such a good friend around.

  “WHERE ARE ALL MY HARIBOOOOOOOOOOO????” Lil’s voice shrieks then, disrupting my mellow mood quite dramatically.

  Without another word I run the rest of the way upstairs. It’s not that I’m scared of my little sister, I reason as I wedge a chair underneath my door handle … not at all … it’s just that no sane person wants to be the one standing between her and her sugar fix.

  CHAPTER Twenty-One

  “So what we’ve learned is that people are really interested in school dinners,” Angelika says brightly the next day. “That’s useful campaign information.”

  “I suppose,” I say glumly.

  “So if we want to appeal to the other students we should have a campaign based on pizza and chips.” Jess tips her head to the side, thoughtfully.

  “But we’re so much more than pizza and chips!” I exclaim.

  “There’s your next sandwich board,” Ruby smirks.

  Kevin barrels into the room. It’s obvious he’s been running. “Did you … see these?” he pants. His hands thrust forward, clutching a brightly coloured flyer.

  I stare at the leaflet with my mouth hanging open.

  “I can’t believe Aaron stole our campaign!” Jess says indignantly.

  “Pizza was never our campaign,” I say with great dignity. “We’ve got real issues to talk about.”

  “But you have to give the voters what they want,” Jess says, striking at the flyer in her hand to emphasize her point. “And they want pizza.”

  “You know what’s more interesting about these leaflets,” Angelika says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “This is the first campaigning Aaron’s actually done at all.” A slow smile spreads across Angelika’s face. “I think it means you’ve got him rattled.”

  I think about this for a second. Angelika is right that Aaron has put absolutely zero effort into campaigning so far, while we’ve been hard at work for weeks. I feel a grin appearing on my face too. We must have him worried. My competitive spirit is wide awake now.

  “Well, we’d better give him something to worry about then, hadn’t we?” I say gleefully. “The next campaign event is the student fair on Monday. You have to have a stand to be in the running for president and it’s a big opportunity for us to shine.”

  “I wonder if Aaron even knows you have to have a stand?” Angelika asks then. “After all, he seemed pretty in the dark about the debate until you told him about it.”

  “Oooh, that’s a good point,” I say. “Although it would be a bit rubbish beating him on a technicality.”

  The others look less convinced about this.

  “OK, so with all the information we’ve learned at the drop-in session, what theme do you think we should have?” I ask after a brief pause, returning to the matter of the fair. “It has to be something that represents our campaign.” I look over at Kevin, our resident artist. “Have you got any ideas?”

  “Well, actually,” Ruby grins, nudging Kevin with her elbow. “Me and Kev have been talking about it. I was reading about this woman called Mary Read from, like, the seventeenth century who dressed up as a man and became a soldier and then later she became this wicked pirate woman who ruled the seven seas with her best mate Anne Bonny, and they were totally ferocious and brilliant. We thought maybe we could do a pirate theme for the stand and talk a bit about how they were these cool women in a men’s world who refused to just sit at home and be quiet. They made their voices heard. Just like you, Effie.”

  I can’t help but grin at that.

  Kevin reaches into his backpack. “I did some rough sketches. We thought we could make the stand look like a ship. And then pirate costumes are really easy for everyone?” He holds out the drawings that he has done.

  “Wow!” I exclaim. “These are amazing! Are you guys sure you don’t mind doing all that work?”

  Ruby and Kevin shake their heads. “It won’t actually be that much work,” Ruby says confidently. “We just paint the sides of the boat on to some big pieces of cardboard, and then we make a sail out of a sheet.”

  “I’ve got some blue cloth we can use for the water,” Angelika says, peering over my shoulder at the drawings.

  “And I can make the biscuits!” Kevin volunteers cheerfully.

  “NO!” we all cry in one voice.

  “I’ll make the biscuits,” I say quickly. “I can get Lil to help me. And you’ve all done so much for me.” I smile mistily. “You guys are the best campaign team a girl could ask for.”

  Lil and I end up going to Iris’s h
ouse to make the biscuits at the weekend. Lil mentioned them at one of their Disney marathons and Iris invited us. Apparently she has the best gingerbread recipe in town.

  With the biscuits cooling on the side, filling the air with their spicy, gingery smell, we assemble our piping bags and the different coloured icing and the edible glitter. These are going to be the most spectacular pirate biscuits anyone has ever seen.

  “I’m going to make a hot pink skull and crossbones with purple glitter and rainbow sprinkles,” Lil says thoughtfully.

  “Nice,” I say. “What are you going to do first, Iris?” I ask.

  Iris is eyeing the decorations with a look of distaste. “I don’t know,” she grunts, but her fingers close around the gold glitter, and I can see a gleam in her eyes.

  “PUNY HUMAN!” Lennon croaks.

  Lil giggles. “I taught him that one,” she says proudly. “I’m trying to get him to sing with me. Hey, Lennon,” she coos, “DO YOU WANNA BUILD A SNOWMAAAAAN?”

  “NOT ON YOUR LIFE, SUNSHINE!” Lennon grumbles.

  “And I taught him that one!” Iris cackles.

  We work quietly for a minute, spangling our biscuits and generally making a bit of a mess.

  “So, how is the campaign going?” Iris asks.

  “It’s OK,” I sigh. “It’s hard work. It just feels like people aren’t really interested.”

  Iris nods knowingly. “That’s always the way,” she agrees. “Getting people to change their attitude is the hard bit.”

  “I think if we do a good job on our stand at the fair then that could make a bit of a splash.” I shake the rainbow sprinkles on to the biscuit in front of me with great enthusiasm. “Get people to pay attention. I feel like if I could just get them to listen, to really hear what I’m saying…” I trail off.

  “Well, you just have to make your stand spectacular then,” Iris says firmly. “It’s no good being shy and retiring. You take up some space, Effie. You’ve got a big voice. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

  “NOISY PEANUT!” Lennon whistles.

  “That’s right, Lennon,” Iris says. “She needs to be a very noisy peanut.”

  I look thoughtfully at Lennon. I think I am having a major brainwave as to how we can make our stand be the one that people remember.

  “Actually, Iris…” I say. “I wonder if I can ask you for a huge favour?”

  CHAPTER Twenty-Two

  The fair is set to take place on Monday after school. My team have been hard at work over the weekend and I am hoping that all of that hard work is about to pay off.

  We gather in the school hall, where rows of tables have been placed around the edge of the room. The tables have bits of paper stuck to the front with tape and we find the one with my name on it.

  “Prime location,” Angelika says in a satisfied tone, and the others murmur in agreement. I, on the other hand, have noticed something that is less than ideal about the placement of our stand.

  “Oh no,” I mutter, eyeing the sign on the table next to ours.

  “What’s up, Kostas?” Aaron Davis saunters up beside me. “Looks like we’re neighbours.”

  “So I guess you worked out you needed to be here in the end?” I grind out.

  “I don’t know why you sound so surprised.” Aaron raises an eyebrow here. “I can do my homework too. I am student council president.”

  “For now,” I mutter, defiantly.

  “And so I do attend these sorts of events anyway,” Aaron continues airily, ignoring me completely. “You’re not the only person who cares about the school, you know,” he adds, and there’s something defiant in his tone.

  “You could have fooled me,” I snort.

  “Look,” Aaron says, keeping his voice annoyingly calm. “I don’t get what you’re so upset about. Everything was running fine before you came in and started making a big, giant fuss and messing around with things. There’s really no need for you to be so … so…”

  “So what?” I ask dangerously. “Just because I think you could do more with the influence you have,” I say, “doesn’t mean I’m ‘messing around’ with things. Anyway,” I sniff, “I think we should be having a civil campaign, keeping things nice and polite. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  “Is that what you call it when you say you want to boil someone in oil in the school paper?” Aaron tips his head to one side as though considering this.

  “Well, at least I didn’t tell a reporter that you were ONLY running against me because you FANCY me,” I flash back, stung. I can feel my cheeks starting to burn, but I keep my most impressive glower on my face.

  Aaron’s cheeks actually go a bit pink then as well. “I don’t know who said that to Cat,” he mumbles, “but it definitely wasn’t me.”

  I shrug elaborately, as if I couldn’t care less. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say, and my voice is coming out all sharp and flinty. “Because it is definitely NOT TRUE. Not a bit. Not in a million years. Never. Never. NEVER. I would NEVER fancy you.”

  “Yeah, well, believe me, the feeling is mutual,” Aaron snaps. “I like nice girls.”

  “Nice girls? Nice girls?! What does that even mean? ‘NICE GIRLS’ IS A THING BOYS SAY AND THE WHOLE IDEA IS INVENTED TO MAKE SURE WE STAY QUIET AND SMALL AND POLITE!” I yell. Aaron is looking at me wide-eyed and I take a deep breath. “I am a very nice girl, thank you,” I say then coldly, getting my voice under control. “But I don’t want to be pushed around, and I am not going to be quiet.”

  “Yeah, that bit is actually fairly obvious,” Aaron says, sticking a finger in his ear and wincing.

  I glare at him, and he glares back.

  “I’d better get back to my stand,” I say. “My whole team have worked really hard on it.” I look around. “Where are your team?” I ask.

  “I don’t have a team,” Aaron snorts, “I’m not running for prime minister. This is hardly a real election, is it?”

  “It’s a shame that you don’t care more about your own campaign because you are going to kick yourself when you lose,” I say sweetly.

  “I don’t lose,” Aaron says, and there’s something steely in his words.

  “This time you will,” I taunt him.

  “I don’t think so,” Aaron replies, and he’s being so patronizing I want to scream. “Look, I suppose I underestimated you at the beginning… I didn’t think you’d really go through with it, and that you would take it SO seriously. I actually think it’s kinda sweet.” He crinkles his nose here and I feel like I might be about to start breathing fire. In fact, I have a lovely daydream about turning into a dragon and incinerating him so that all that remains is a small pile of dust and a pair of football boots. And on his grave it would say, HERE LIES AARON DAVIS. HE TOLD A GIRL SHE WAS “KINDA SWEET” BUT SHE TURNED OUT TO BE A FIRE-BREATHING DRAGON. #AWKWARD

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Aaron asks, breaking into my lovely imaginary funeral arrangements. He looks a bit startled by the obvious joy in my expression.

  “No reason,” I say. “Please. Carry on telling me how sweet I am.”

  “Oh, well,” Aaron shuffles. “Not you, but the way you’re so into it all. But I don’t think you realize how things work here yet. I wouldn’t want you to be humiliated…”

  “The only person who is going to be humiliated is YOU,” I crack back. This is DANGEROUSLY close to what Matt said, and the rattled, nervous feeling that conversation gave me makes an unwelcome reappearance. Is this a conspiracy between them? I can just see the two of them together deciding to try to intimidate me out of running.

  “If you really think that, then you’re delusional.” Aaron’s voice is getting louder now.

  “YOU ARE!” I hiss.

  “NO, YOU ARE!” Aaron snaps, and it’s like we’re both five years old but I can’t help it, he makes me so cross. This is also the first time I’ve actually seen Aaron get annoyed, and I feel a strange sense of victory that I have at least shaken him out of his bored shrugging.

  “
HA!” I crow. “WHAT A COMEBACK.”

  Aaron glowers and opens his mouth to reply before stopping short. I swing around then to find Miss Sardana standing behind me. From the look on her face it’s clear that she heard quite a lot of our argument. I guess we weren’t exactly being quiet.

  “Is there a problem here?” she asks, and though her tone is mild, her eyes are very alert.

  “No, miss,” we both mumble.

  “I should hope not,” Miss Sardana says. “I would expect far better behaviour from members or potential members of our student council.” Her eyes bore into mine here, and I feel a wave of shame wash over me.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Aaron echoes.

  Miss Sardana gives us one beadier stare that says very clearly “I have my eye on you” before walking off to organize people.

  I give Aaron a cold smile and turn back to my team, who are all hovering nearby, mouths agape, clearly listening very carefully to the exchange.

  “Why are you all standing around?” I grumble, a blush spreading across my face. “We’ve got lots to get on with.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” Ruby salutes. “And by the way,” she whispers, “that was awesome!”

  CHAPTER Twenty-Three

  It takes me a while to get my breathing back to normal and my temper under control. I notice my hands are shaking as I start unpacking our bags. By the time our stand is assembled I have almost calmed down, and I must admit that the team have outdone themselves. The table has become the front of a pirate ship, two large sheets of cardboard propped in a V shape at its sides. These have been painted by Kevin and Ruby to look like the sides of the boat. Angelika has swirled blue silky material around the floor at the front and there are seashells and rubber ducks scattered across it. Behind the table, on a broom attached to a chair, a sheet has been stretched out like a sail, and there’s even a Jolly Roger flag hanging from the top. Kevin has made a sign that features a drawing of me dressed as a pirate captain and it says, EFFIE KOSTAS: STEERING HIGHWORTH GRANGE IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.