by Dyan Sheldon
“If Carla does win, the worst part’s going to be having to watch her gloat,” said Morty. “I’m really not looking forward to that.”
Sam pulled open the door. “Try to look on the bright side,” he advised. “If she does win we’ll probably have the chance to impeach her.”
Carla and Alma were already behind the counter, standing near the microphone with Dr Alsop, when we arrived.
“This election has taught me so much,” Carla was telling Dr Alsop as the four of us trooped in. “I feel I have a real understanding of the democratic process now.”
“So do I,” Lola murmured. “It’s made me think twice about benevolent despots.”
“Not me,” said Farley. “I’m going with Sam. Anarchy’s the only way.”
“There you are!” Dr Alsop looked pretty happy to see us. Which made one. Carla and Alma didn’t so much as glance our way. “Come around here!” called Dr Alsop. “It’s almost time to start.”
Sam, Lola, Farley, Morty and I went around there. We lined up on the opposite side of Dr Alsop from Carla and Alma. Small, insincere smiles were exchanged, but no words. Dr Alsop didn’t seem to notice that not all of the candidates were speaking to each other. He was so excited that he couldn’t stop grinning. He wanted us to know how proud he was of all of us. He wanted us to know what a great job we’d done. He wanted us to know that even when he was older and greyer he would remember this election.
Carla said, “Dr Alsop?” She held up her arm so he could see her watch.
“Right. Right.” Dr Alsop held up one hand for silence, even though he’d been the only one talking. “Everyone ready?”
We were all ready.
The microphone crackled. Dr Alsop stepped up to it, and launched into one of his mini-orations.
I concentrated on being calm. If when the winner was announced it wasn’t me, I wanted to be prepared. Morty wasn’t the only one not looking forward to watching Carla gloat. I was afraid it might provoke me to violence.
At last Dr Alsop reached the moment of truth. “If we had an electoral college,” he said, “the outcome of this election might have been very different. But here at Dellwood High School it’s the candidate with the most votes who wins.” He cleared his throat. “In one of the closest races in the history of our school, the results are as follows…”
Lola squeezed my hand and I squeezed Morty’s.
“Carla Santini, one hundred and fifty votes…”
“Way to go, Carla…” whispered Sam.
I know it wasn’t very mature, but I practically laughed out loud. One hundred and fifty votes meant that Carla had lost!
Lola squeezed my hand so hard I thought she’d broken some fingers.
“Ella Gerard, two hundred and twenty votes…”
I’m very good at mental arithmetic. Two hundred and twenty votes meant that I’d lost, too. Now I was breaking Morty’s fingers.
Carla was staring at Dr Alsop as though he’d turned into a giant lizard.
“Morton Slinger…” Dr Alsop paused dramatically, “…two hundred and twenty-eight votes.”
“That can’t be right.” Carla’s whisper was a little shrill. “There must be some mistake…”
But it wasn’t a mistake. It was the swing vote. The friends and would-be friends of Carla Santini who didn’t want to vote for her hadn’t voted for me – probably because they were afraid of what she’d do when they found out – they’d voted for Morty instead.
Lola, Sam, Farley and I started clapping and cheering.
Dr Alsop extended one arm towards Morty. “It’s with great pleasure that I hand over the microphone to Morton Slinger, the new Student President of Dellwood High.”
Morty was still giving his first official speech as President when I slipped out of the office to call my mother from the payphone outside. I’d already called her once that afternoon, but now I wanted to tell her the news – and to ask if she minded having the victory party anyway.
“You don’t sound too disappointed,” said my mother.
“I’m not,” I told her. “I feel just fine.”
“Well, I’m not disappointed, either,” said my mother. “Win or lose, I want you to know how proud I am of you, honey. I really am.”
But there was one person who was disappointed, and she was standing right behind me as I hung up the phone.
I didn’t have long to wonder how long she’d been there.
“Planning a party, Ella?” No one can make a question sound like a threat the way Carla Santini can.
I smiled. “Eavesdropping on other people’s conversations, Carla?”
She smiled back as though I’d paid her a compliment. “You know, smugness doesn’t really become you, Ella,” Carla informed me. She sighed sadly. “I really think you’ve let this election go to your head. You used to be so much nicer … before…”
“Really?” I made my smile even bigger. “What a shame that I can’t say the same about you.”
“And you used to be more realistic, too.” Carla shook her curls. “I mean, look at you, Ella. You’re acting like you won, when in reality you lost.”
“It isn’t if you win or lose,” I said. “It’s how you play the game.”
“Exactly,” Carla purred. “It is how you play the game. And I’m playing this one so that you lose.” Carla Santini’s the only person I’ve ever known who can make a threat out of a smile. “Really, really lose…”
I stared through the glass wall of the office to where Morty, Farley, Lola and Sam were all shaking Dr Alsop’s hand. They all looked really, really happy. I didn’t have to ask Carla what she was talking about; I already knew.
But despite what she said, Carla still thought she was dealing with the old Ella Gerard – the one who wasn’t too good with subtleties. She explained what she meant. Maybe the student body of Dellwood High wasn’t shocked and outraged by the news about my mother, but the people of Woodford would be. And Carla was going to make sure they found out. She was going to guarantee that my mother was socially ostracized. My mother would have more cold shoulders than an abattoir. She’d never cater for another party, attend another dinner, or be invited to another barbecue for as long as she stayed in Woodford. Which probably wouldn’t be for very long.
“And what if Lola blabbed about Mr Santini?”
“Now?” Carla’s laugh was like funeral bells. “Who would believe her now?” Where was her evidence? Where were her witnesses? Everyone would know it was just Lola up to her usual tricks.
I knew Carla well enough to know she was telling the truth. But Carla didn’t know me at all. Not any more.
Just a few days ago, I’d wanted to protect my mother. But now I was wondering what I’d been thinking. What exactly was I protecting her from? From losing friends she didn’t really have? From missing out on a few boring dinners and barbecues? From catering for parties that weren’t in Woodford?
All this time, I’d been standing in the phone box, but now I stepped out, so there were only a couple of inches between Carla and me.
“You don’t get it, Carla, do you?” I looked straight into her eyes. “There’s nothing you can do. You can get on TV and tell the whole world about my mother. It’s not going to hurt her – and it’s definitely not going to hurt me.”
Carla laughed, but it lacked her usual overwhelming confidence. “So you say.”
“That’s right.” I grinned back. “So I say.” The Greeks were wrong after all. I really was lucky. I was lucky because I had friends I could count on. And I was lucky because I could count on myself as well. “Because I won, Carla. And a lot more than a high school election.” Now I knew that a person could do anything she wanted with her life – all she had to do was try. The trying was the important part.
“We’ll see about that.”
I could tell that for the first time since we were four and she said she’d break my new doll if I didn’t give it to her that Carla was bluffing.
“Yeah, I guess we will.
”
my
PERFECT
life
Dyan Sheldon is the author of many books for young people, including Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen (the prequel to My Perfect Life); And Baby Makes Two; The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love; and My Worst Best Friend, as well as a number of stories for younger readers. American by birth, Dyan lives in North London.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published 2002 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Text © 2002 Dyan Sheldon
Cover photograph © Photolibrary. All rights reserved.
The right of Dyan Sheldon to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-3922-2 (ePub)
www.walker.co.uk
