The Other Girl

Chapter XIII

Freshman year elections in uni were nothing like the high school years before: I was a unknown among the candidates, the lone freshman. Refusing to be daunted, I stubbornly pursued the top position to the chagrin of my competitors.

"Stella, you're amazing and anyone would be lucky to know enough to vote you as prez," Warren had told me one day after the board meeting," but not many people know enough to recognize you. Only about half of the junior class knows your face, max."

"I'm sorry I'm not memorable enough for the other half," I apologized jokingly, knowing that it was true. However, I had connections through my friends, and the clique was quickly integrating itself into university circles.

"You are memorable," Warren corrected, smiling sadly. "So memorable that sometimes I think you--and only you--could pull something like this off."

And he was right. Less than a month later there were football jocks and basketball starters who'd wolf-whistle and jeer at me during lunch and groups of girls that would wave at me and break out into whispers as soon as I turned away. Suddenly the position of president was more than in reach--it was practically assured.

"I'd be lucky to get a single vote during the election," one of the other runners had joked during the last meeting the night before the election. We'd all laughed at his comment, but the next day's result shocked us all. Everyone got more than a single vote but then again, people had to have more than one friend to have the courage to run in the first place.

That's where I stop understanding Kimberly--I'm sure she has friends, but is she really memorable enough to get voted in?

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March passed relatively quickly as finals slowly crept closer. Chad and Stacey made up quickly after Karen's intervention with my help, both swearing to put more effort into their relationship. Quinn and Time had started texting each other, although Quinn's been rather hushed about their relationship.

"Give it some time," Karen had told us one brunch when Quinn had been too absorbed in her phone to hear us. "They'll be dating in no time."

March also marked the start of spring, election season. I hadn't put much thought into Kimberly lately—it was her life—but lo and behold, I received a surprise visitor right after my expository writing class.

"Stella!" Kimberly shouted, waving enthusiastically. "Can I get you hear out my campaign pitch before I start? I wanted to ask in person since it's going to be verbal and all."

"Sure," I responded, impressed that she was so sure despite being new. Did she really think she knew the school well enough to immediately find a campaign pitch?. "Let's hear it."

"I was thinking we need diversity," she started excitedly, eyes gleaming. "Did you know that less than ten percent of our students get financial aid? That's really low compared to other universities. We're like a community for the rich, and that's not right."

To be honest, I almost burst out laughing. Did she really think that our student body wanted diversity in our circles? We'd applied to this institution because we'd wanted to be in a secluded community of the richest names—the top one percent of the world. That we had any scholarships was a surprise, and it struck me that Kimberly had to be among them.

"Kimberly," I started slowly, thinking carefully about my word choice. "I don't think many students would agree that our school needs more... 'diversity.'"

"Why not?" she asked, confused. "College is about preparing ourselves for the world—this school isn't really representing that very well."

How wrong she was—this was our world. Our families were the cream of the crop, and the connections we made would be the only connections we'd need in the future. Yes we'd perhaps miss a few individuals that rose here and there out of the ninety-nine percent, but it would be their job to seek out the established one percent.