Your Own Worst Enemy

by Gordon Jack

  “Two birds. One stone.”

  “That’s not who you are.”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “Because we’ve been friends since freshman year.”

  “That’s right. I thought I knew who you were too, but clearly I don’t. The Brian I knew would never stab me in the back the way you have.”

  Brian could see Stacey struggle to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. In any other circumstance, he would reach out and pull her into a hug. Something told him that if he tried to do that now, she would punch him in the gut. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you liked Julia?”

  “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

  “You don’t see this as a slight conflict of interest?”

  “Not really. I mean, I guess it is, kind of.”

  “I feel like I’ve lost my best friend.” Stacey turned, shielding her face from him. Brian reached out and put a tentative hand on her shoulders. He hoped this steadied her as much as it did him.

  “You haven’t lost me, Stacey.”

  “I thought you were gay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “Because we’re best friends.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s not normal.”

  “Are you telling me you’re gay?”

  Stacey shook her head.

  “But by your logic, it’s the only way to explain our friendship.”

  “Why didn’t you like me, Brian? What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why? Why her and not me?”

  Brian turned Stacey around and stared at her. “Because you’re my friend,” he said gently. He dipped his head so that he came into Stacey’s line of vision. Stacey’s eyes darted from side to side but finally rested on his. “This is new for me, Stacey, so I’m a bit confused. I guess that’s why I couldn’t find the way to explain it to you because I didn’t understand it myself. All I know is that I never felt anything like this before. The feelings I have for Julia are different from the feelings I have for you. You make me feel safe, and Julia makes me feel . . . scared.”

  “And that’s why you like her?” Stacey whispered back.

  “I think. Maybe fear’s an important part of attraction. It’s what makes people do crazy things. Julia’s my tightrope, but you’re my net. I need you both, but for different reasons.”

  “Oh Brian,” Stacey said, leaning her head against his chest. “You have such a way with words.”

  Brian wasn’t sure if Stacey was complimenting him or not. He proceeded as if she were.

  “Life’s complicated, Stacey. Elections demand that we simplify things, even simplify people, but sometimes that’s impossible.”

  “So says the guy who can’t narrow down his college wish list to twenty schools,” Stacey said. “Sometimes you have to make a choice between two attractive options, Brian. I’m asking you to do that now. Her or me?”

  “Stacey. I can’t choose,” Brian said, stepping back. “And I shouldn’t have to.”

  “This is an election, Brian. If you don’t choose, someone else will do it for you.” Stacey nodded in Julia’s direction.

  Brian turned around and saw Julia moving across the parking lot like some disappearing balloon that had slipped through his fingers. By the time he realized what was happening, she was too far away for him to bring her back.

  40

  TONY WAS CONFUSED. He was about to take his reading quiz in second-period English when Mohawk arrived with a summons from the front office. His English teacher barely glanced at the slip. This was the third time this semester he’d been called out of class for some misdemeanor; it probably didn’t surprise her that he was in trouble again. It surprised Tony though. As far as he could remember, he hadn’t done anything wrong, except smoke a bowl before leaving home this morning. But since when was that a crime?

  “Take your stuff with you,” she told Tony after handing him the slip. “You can take the reading quiz during lunch.”

  Tony followed Mohawk dutifully out of class. Some kid in the back row shouted out “Vote for Tony,” causing the students not stressing about the reading quiz to laugh. Before leaving the room, Tony turned and flashed a peace sign to all his supporters.

  Mohawk led him down the hall toward the center quad. Rather than cross the empty space and head toward the main office, he ducked inside the boys’ bathroom and motioned for Tony to follow. Once inside, Mohawk checked the stalls for any dangling feet and gave Tony a thumbs-up sign.

  “What’s going on?” Tony said.

  “I got a present for you,” Mohawk said, slipping the straps of his backpack off his shoulders.

  The last time someone said this to him in a public bathroom, it didn’t end well. Tony instinctively backed up against the door. “I thought I was in trouble,” he said.

  “Naw, I just forged the slip to get you out of class,” Kyle said, unzipping his backpack.

  “Dude, we were about to have a reading quiz.”

  “Did you do the reading?”

  “No, but now I have to make up the quiz during lunch, which will be a total drag.”

  “Trust me. It’ll be worth it. Wait till you see what I got you.” Mohawk pulled out a thin white blanket with black spots and what looked like a pink helmet covered in dildos.

  “What the . . . ?” Tony said, reaching for the door.

  Mohawk lifted the garment above his head, and Tony saw it was a cow costume, complete with a rubbery set of udders. “Here, hold this,” he said, passing the adult onesie to Tony. He reached into his backpack and took out an astronaut space helmet.

  “Whaddya think?”

  “I’m not sure what’s happening right now.”

  “It’s Space Cow, you idiot. I got these for you to wear today.”

  “Why today?”

  “It’s election day, dumbass. We’ve got one last chance to remind voters that you’re their man.”

  “Dressing up as Space Cow is supposed to remind them of that?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s kind of your platform, remember?”

  “What am I supposed to do in this thing?”

  “What do you mean? Haven’t you ever seen our mascot perform at rallies or football games?”

  Tony shook his head.

  “You go out into the crowds, do silly dances, and remind them to vote for Tony.”

  “Why can’t you do this?”

  “I didn’t buy the suit in my size,” Mohawk said. “Besides, it’s traditionally the candidate’s job.”

  “I don’t know, dude. I kinda like what that chick said about getting rid of homework.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s never going to happen. Not in a million years. You have a better chance opening up a dispensary in the cafeteria before homework goes away.”

  “That would be cool.”

  “Let’s just stay on message. A vote for Tony is a vote for Space Cow. You want to see it back in the cafeteria, right?”

  “Yeah. I guess I was kind of hoping the principal would accept my demands to keep me out of the race. You know, like you said.”

  “They’re playing chicken with you,” Mohawk said. “You need to call their bluff.”

  Tony looked at the costume. It was pretty cool, like a giant version of the footed pajamas he used to wear as a kid, only instead of feet it had hooves. It also had a cow face on the hood, which he could pull down so no one would recognize him.

  He took off his high tops and stepped into the legs. Mohawk zipped him up from behind, and he felt the costume envelope him like a soft blanket. The hoodie only covered half his face, but with the space helmet on, his features were impossible to see. Of course, it was impossible for him to see as well, but he figured he didn’t need 20/20 vision to dance around the quad.

  “Dude, I have five penises,” he said, running his right hand over th
e plastic udders jutting from his waist.

  “Yeah, be careful with those,” Mohawk said. “Or not. Who gives a shit at this point, right?”

  “Do we have time to get high?” Tony asked. “I’ve got a blunt in my right pocket, and I’d love to see what happens when I trap the smoke in my space helmet.”

  “Fire up, dude. The bell won’t ring for another five minutes. I’ll keep watch outside and make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

  41

  JULIA DIDN’T HAVE much time. The bell was about to ring, and she needed to walk her quinceañera sisters into the quad, poster held high. It might be the most humiliating thing she ever did—parading around with the other Latinas while everyone at school learned of her real heritage—but she wasn’t going to back out now. These girls had gone out of their way to defend her; it was time for her to return the favor.

  She met the girls in the area that separated the parking lot from the center quad. On the left of this corridor was the band room, and to the right, the theater. Both classes were full of performers, and she hoped the musicians and actors would cheer the fourteen girls as they passed by in their brightly colored dresses, holding banners for justice.

  “Who’s got the speaker?” Jenny said, looking around frantically.

  Maria, at the end of the line, held up the Bose cylinder that would blast Calle 13’s “Pa’l Norte,” to which the girls would perform their choreographed dance.

  “We circle the quad three times and then line up in formation,” Jenny ordered. She should really be the one running for president, Julia thought. She’s pretty good at bossing people around.

  Julia clutched her sign to her chest and took a deep breath.

  “You going to be okay, girl?” Jenny asked, touching Julia’s shoulder.

  Julia nodded and tried to smile.

  “’Cause we’ve got your back,” Jenny said. “Don’t we, girls?”

  The line of girls, a rainbow of silky pastels and sparkly tiaras, all whooped and hollered.

  It was at this moment, at the end of her campaign, that Julia understood why she was running for president. For so long, she thought of this race as a means to an end. If she were president, she could stay in California. But that wasn’t it at all. Standing in formation with these girls, she finally realized that real power comes when you stop thinking of yourself and start working for others. She loved these girls and wanted to fight with them and that purpose made her feel indestructible.

  The bell rang, and students began streaming into the quad from all sides. Julia raised her banner and walked solemnly into the fray.

  42

  IT WAS ONE of the most beautiful sights Stacey had ever seen: kids flooding into the quad to enjoy the few minutes of freedom they had between classes and stopping dead in their tracks to watch a silent parade of beautiful girls walk by in silent protest.

  “Wow,” Stacey said.

  “I know,” Brian responded.

  They stood on the quad’s perimeter, near the front of the school, and watched the spectacle. It was a stunning bit of contrast. The girls were all dressed in their bubble-gum pink, purple, and red gowns, tiaras perched delicately on their sculpted hair, but they wore serious expressions like the royal families in Game of Thrones. Julia led the group, holding up her vandalized poster, a reminder of why this march was necessary. Behind her, each girl broadcast messages of love, acceptance, and unity. The campus was absolutely still as the girls marched in a wide circle, once, twice, three times. On the last loop, Julia looked up and smiled at Stacey as she passed. Stacey had never been prouder to call herself a Lincoln student. What she had been about to do to Julia seemed so ugly in contrast to this dignified display of nonviolent protest. Who cares if Julia is Latina or not if she’s willing to support her fellow students like this? Julia respected these girls enough to participate in this protest, which Stacey had never even thought to do. Stacey had been so wrapped up in winning the election that she completely ignored the fact that someone had broadcast a message of hate to every Latino at her school. The fact that Stacey saw the slandered poster as a political maneuver, rather than a vicious attack, made her sick to her stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Brian.

  “Me too,” he said.

  “My bridezilla mom must have gotten to me. What Julia’s doing . . . It’s really great.”

  Brian nodded, clearly proud.

  That’s when Space Cow came bouncing into the quad.

  Stacey grabbed Brian’s arm. “No,” she said. Brian gasped in response.

  Space Cow stumbled around the crowd, crashing into people and jostling them with pleas to “Bring back my chocolate milk!” The girls did their best to ignore him, which only got harder when they started their flash-mob dance. As soon as Space Cow heard the Calle 13 tune, he started gyrating his pelvis, Elvis Presley style, and stroking his udders suggestively. He got in the way of the girls’ routine and caused them to break formation. Anger flashed across the girls’ faces, but they refused to sink to Space Cow’s level.

  “Yeah, Space Cow!” a freshman yelled from Stacey’s left. She turned on the boy who ignored her threatening glare. Instead, he encouraged the guys standing around him to start chanting “Space Cow! Space Cow!”

  “No,” Stacey said again. “No, Space Cow.”

  She stormed into the center quad and performed a roundhouse kick worthy of a black belt. It landed squarely in Space Cow’s udders, causing the dancing bovine to collapse to the ground. There was an audible crack as his helmet hit the pavement.

  Stacey stood over him and heard the crowd chant “Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.” Apparently, this was Stacey’s new campaign slogan.

  Before she shut her supporters up, Space Cow recovered and kicked Stacey’s legs out from under her. She fell to the concrete with a thud, pain shooting up her ankle. Before she knew what was happening, she was drowning in cotton candy, or at least, it seemed like cotton candy to her slightly addled brain. More likely, it was a quinceañera princess rushing to her aid and pulling her away from Space Cow, who was now facing off with Julia.

  Julia’s transition to womanhood involved hitting Space Cow over the head with her sign and bringing him down with an aggressive punch to the stomach.

  The two of them rolled on the ground in some bizarre rodeo reenactment. Julia somehow flipped Space Cow onto his stomach and then yanked off his helmet and threw it into the crowd. Space Cow tried his best to buck her off his back, but she straddled him like a cowboy and wouldn’t be shaken loose. Four of her sisters came over and grabbed Space Cow’s feet and started dragging him off center stage.

  “Munchkins! Help!” Tony screamed in terror.

  In an instant, a wall of freshman boys appeared and blocked the girls’ path to the parking lot. A mangy-looking kid with a blue Mohawk, Brian’s brother, locked his scarred arms with the boys on either side of him and bellowed, “You shall not pass,” a rallying cry that seemed to fortify his army of dwarves.

  Out of nowhere, Brian rushed this defensive line and tackled his brother onto the ground. After securing him in a headlock, he screamed out to the crowd, “Anyone else here been bullied by a younger sibling lately?”

  Slowly, older brothers and sisters began breaking free from the crowd to approach the line of freshmen. As soon as they saw their siblings storming toward them, the boys scattered, opening up a wide path over which the girls could drag their prisoner.

  “No! Please! Help!” Tony yelled.

  Before the quince crew could take another high-heeled step, Sammy pulled up in his golf cart and put a stop to the mayhem. No one was going to mess with a man who looked like a CGI special effect from a Hobbit film. He grabbed Tony and Julia by the arms, put them in the back of his golf cart, and drove toward the principal’s office.

  The bell rang, and the crowds dispersed to their third-period classes. Stacey limped among her peers, who were too busy comparing video clips of the fight to notice her. Just as she was about to enter
her classroom, Stacey stopped. She couldn’t pretend to be a student right now. She needed a quiet place to figure out what her next move was going to be. Before her teacher could see her standing at the doorway, she turned around and pushed through the crowded hallways to the quiet space she had helped create when student government still mattered to her.

  “SPACE COW MASSACRE”

  by Lance Haber

  Not since the infamous Boston Tea Party has such a dramatic display of civil disobedience been seen in our country.

  Lincoln students from different classes and cliques rose up from their knees and spoke truth to power. Unfortunately, power had their noise-canceling headphones on.

  First it began with the Latinas, led by Julia Romero, a girl whose beauty and integrity has been an inspiration to us all during this campaign. A group of Latina girls dressed in quinceañera dresses walked in solemn procession through the quad to protest the racist attacks either perpetrated or inspired by Wynn’s xenophobic campaign. The crowds watched respectfully as the girls peacefully marched, much like the NAACP’s Silent Protest Parade of 1917.

  Amid this quiet ceremony, Tony Guo did a satiric dance in a Space Cow costume. The space helmet he wore served as a painful allusion to the administration’s efforts to silence the growing voices of dissent on our campus.

  Of course, Stacey Wynn could not allow such peaceful protests to continue. Not if they might cost her votes in the election.

  If you need any more evidence of Wynn’s naked ambition, just check out this YouTube clip of Wynn assaulting the Space Cow with a lethal kick to his abdomen. Prior to witnessing this, I always assumed Wynn got other people to do her dirty work for her, but it turns out I was wrong. Not only is Stacey a shifty political manipulator; she’s also a Jason Bourne–level assassin.

  The administration has refused to comment on what, if any, punishment Wynn will receive for her aggressive strongman tactics. Judging from the principal’s response to past violations, my guess is that nothing will happen. At least everyone has seen Wynn for who she really is and will use their moral and ethical judgments to cast their votes next period. A vote for Julia or Tony is a vote for freedom.