The Campaign Manager

Runners Take Your Marks

"You know, you should really not make faces like that. They make you quite unattractive," he chides, and was unfortunately right. The photo definitely didn't capture me at my best moment.

"Delete that right now!" I shriek, reaching for his camera. He rips it away from me, a maniacal laugh emerging from his throat.

"I'm sure everyone would love to see another side of the brilliant Rowan West," he teases, looking down at the photo. "I can see it now, Emilie Singh's Campaign Manager: Straight A Student or Resident Nut Job? That would for sure rack in the votes for you two."

"Tyler Hawthorne!" Emilie blares. I knew she had my back; especially now that she was involved. "I swear that if you don't delete this photo right now, I'll tell the entire female population at school the time you thought you were preg-"

"Okay! Fine!" Tyler shouts in retreat, his ears burning red. "It's deleted, okay?" He shows us the empty display, and Emilie crosses her arms in victory.

"Good."

As Emilie and I laughed at Tyler's grimacing face, the last two items on my list of hatred made their way down the hallway. Now I know what you're thinking: How can melted cheese be traveling through a school hallway? Well, it was coming towards me in the form of a sandwich, carried by the greatest Elitist of West Finely High who was walking, no, striding, down towards us.

"Wright alert," Emilie hisses, and instantly the three of us tense up. He walked as if he owned the school-which was probably partially true since his father was a generous benefactor- and our peers' heads instantly turned in his direction as if they were magnetically drawn to his presence. Tyler groans from besides me, and I can't help but let out a sigh of my own.

"Hello JT," I smile sweetly as he comes to a stop in front of us, happily chewing on his grilled cheese.

"Rowan," he nods in response, giving me a one of his million dollar smiles.

Barf.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that JT isn't attractive, because if we are being honest here, James Thomas Wright is definitely hot. He stands at almost 6ft, with a strong build and brown hair that pushes up off of his forehead. And don't even get me started on his abs. No, it isn't his hotness that I don't find appealing; it is more of his general... perfection. JT is the captain of the varsity lacrosse team, debate team, and incredibly rich. Not to mention that he has the highest GPA in our Junior year.

Behind me, that is.

Teachers adore him, girls swoon in his presence, and all the athletes worship him. I could see why, JT is a nice, friendly guy. And the problem is; he knows it. It's almost like he bathes in the spotlight. The main difference is that everything comes easily to him; sports, school, popularity, you name it. While the rest of us 'peasants' had to work our asses off to maintain a good GPA, barely having time to balance out extracurricular activities. JT is just too perfect. And it appears to be that the three of us are the only ones bothered by it.

I can see Emilie visibly shrink as JT walks up, eyeing our poster.

"That's a lot of glitter," he observes, tilting his head to the side. I roll my eyes.

"Well, that's because people like glitter," I sass, causing JT to laugh. I of course, didn't find my own comment that funny. Moment after moment I can see Emilie's face redden deeper and deeper into its blush, making me want to run over and hug her.

"Yeah, everyone likes glitter," he chuckles, walking up to our masterpiece and dragging a finger across it, leaving behind a huge smudge. I internally hiss, biting my lip to keep from yelling at him. He lifts up his finger, revealing a thick coat of sparkles now layered onto his skin. "Everyone like glitter," he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "But that much?"