Checkmate

24| Ballot day

He puts his vape away and says, "Don't overthink it, Rose."

I stare at him for a good few seconds, unable to decide whether to be relieved or annoyed. On the one hand, it doesn't appear that he's quitting as my campaign captain. On the other, does this mean last night meant nothing to him? And more importantly, why does that make me feel nauseous?

"Fine," I say, "let's talk about what happens after the vote." The wave of nerves I've been managing to suppress suddenly threatens to overcome me. Either I make it onto the ballot, or my campaign ends here, which means Blake and I do too. "If I make it onto the ballot, I'll stop by the basement tonight–" I get flustered and add, "–so that we can go over our campaign speech."

"And if you don't?"

My heart stammers. I can't look at him as I say, "If I don't, you won't need to be my campaign captain anymore."

Neither of us says what this means, but it hangs in the air like an expiry date. If I don't get the votes I need to pass the ballot, this thing between us, whatever it is, is officially over.

The bell rings, and I push myself off the wall before forcing myself to look at him. "The ballot will probably be announced before lunch. If you're around, I can meet you here, but if not–"

"I'll be here," he says.

My heart surges. I take a deep breath, and the pair of us quietly make our way to class. When we enter the hallways, he looks over for a second, eyes unreadable. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I say and head to first period.

The rest of the morning is torture – pure, unadulterated hell. My eyes don't leave the clock, watching each excruciating second tick by as I wait for the votes to roll in. The way it works is that the committee calls each candidate to the office to share whether they made it on the ballot, which means at some point today, I'll be walking into that office and walking back out a contender or a failure.

First up is Angela during the second period. I watch with bated breath as she slips out of her seat and heads to the door, her red locks swinging in the breeze. Even though I feel guilty about it, I can't help but pray that she doesn't make it through, not because I don't want the competition, but because the longer she's in the running, the more likely it is that my parents will find out I lied. She returns five minutes later wearing the biggest smile, and my heart sinks. She made it.

Next is Zack, who looks surprisingly downcast as he sinks into his chair. I'd figured he'd have surpassed us all regarding the speech, but his eyes are like thunder as he briefly looks over. I drop my gaze, determined to stay calm until I'm called into the office, but it's easier said than done.

Eventually, it's my turn. I get up slowly, heart palpitating, as I step into the hallway and make my way to Mr. Charter's office. Libby walks out as I reach the door and smiles. "I made it through," she says, clutching her bag, and she dares to look proud as though she got there herself.

"Of course you did," I say. "You stole my speech."

Her eyes darken. Stepping forward, she tilts her head. "You just can't stand anyone being better than you, can you? You never could."

"Libby," I say as though I'm talking to someone a few buttons short of a sweater, "you literally stole my speech."

"What are you talking about? Our speeches were completely different – Chase helped me to write it."

It occurs to me that despite enlisting Libby's help with posters and whatnot, I'd never shared my speech with her. "It was my old speech – Chase stole it from my campaign book somehow."