Checkmate

33| Vote for Rose

Friday morning is all about damage control. I head to school early, wearing my favorite pink blouse and determined to undo all the damage Libby caused with her transparent acts of sabotage.

My cupcakes manage to survive the journey relatively unscathed. Armed with my cake tin, Vote for Rose badges, and a somewhat optimistic attitude, I stride toward the bikesheds and convince myself it's not too late to piece together the shreds of my reputation.

Blake grins when I round the corner and pushes himself off the wall. With a glance at my cupcake tin, he says, "You look ready for war."

"I am," I say, determined. "If those campaign-stealing conspirators think they're going to get away with sabotage, they can think again."

Blake tugs me closer until the cupcake tin is the only thing separating us. "Prickly Rose strikes again."

My heart does that thing where it flutters repeatedly; it seems to be common around him. "I'm serious, Blake. We need to decide on an angle: we can either deny, deny, deny, or admit the truth. I personally think we should go with the second option and spin the narrative in my favor."

Blake's expression sits somewhere between sickened and amused. "You sound like a politician."

I beam. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Ignoring him, I glance at my watch and have a moment of panic. In a few minutes, the bell will ring, and our chance to put on a united front in the face of Libby's public humiliation will be gone. "Seriously, what should I do?"

"You own it," Blake says. "Whatever they bring up, you say: yeah, that happened."

"And then what?" I ask.

"That's it."

I'm not convinced, but we're out of time. The bell rings, and I take a deep breath as we walk toward the school. A few people stare as we pass through the hall, but it's hard to tell whether it's because of what Libby said or because they're still not used to seeing Rose and Blake. Truth be told, I'm not either.

After putting my things in my locker, I turn to Blake and tell him I'll meet him at lunch. We plan to sit at one of the tables outside the lunch hall, cupcakes and badges lined up to entice, and spend the next few days convincing people to vote for me despite my indiscretions.

The rest of the morning is easy enough, but I can't help but feel paranoid that I'll turn around and find yet another attempt at sabotage. Maybe my face is on another poster, or my secrets are laid bare across the locker doors; I wouldn't put anything past them.

At lunch, I grab the cupcakes and badges from my locker and set up on one of the hallway's campaign tables. Angela is at the opposite end, somewhat deflated as she leans across her table, chin in her palm and eyes on the clock. I can't help but feel guilty that these secrets and lies have overshadowed her campaign, just as they have mine.

For the next few minutes, I anxiously stare at the people who walk past me as if I'm not here. My cupcake tin is open, the Vote for Rose cupcakes proudly on display, but not one person stops to take one. I tell myself it's nothing personal – maybe they're gluten intolerant – and focus on organizing the badges on my table.

"Hey Rose," someone says as they approach my table, "did you really have to pay Blake to be your campaign captain?"

I swallow hard, repeating Blake's words in my head, but they don't seem to make it past my lips. Instead, I look down at the badges on my table and hope he'll carry on walking.

"Guess that's a yes," his friend says.

The pair of them laugh as they carry on down the hallway. I exhale slowly, about to dash to the bathroom and stay there, but then I catch sight of Libby and Chase setting up next to Angela and falter.