Lies We Tell ✔

The Twenty-First Dance

     Hours later, after everyone had left the Mid-Autumn Festival, I found myself knocking on Chris' door. I was only going to him because Olivia wasn't around the room for me to talk to, and I hadn't been able to track down either of the RAs, either. Or so I told myself.

The door swung open after my second knock. Looking more haggard and downtrodden than he'd been when handing out stickers to everything in the vicinity, Chris met my expression with a dead look in his eyes. "Oh. It's you."

"Please, tone down the enthusiasm. You are just suffocating me."

He rubbed his eyes. "Good timing. I wanted to talk to you, anyway."

"More campaign stuff, right?" I sighed.

Chris looked taken aback for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Sure. I guess."

"You guess? You're the one who's all, 'Oh, Amelia is my campaign manager. I have to pull her away from talking to anyone else because of important campaign things. Because she's my manager. Did I mention that Amelia is my campaign manager?"

"Fine!" Chris's face turned bright red, and he flung his hands up in the air. "So I was a little...selfish today."

"Selfish? Try possessive."

He gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, okay? Haven't felt myself lately. Not with everything..." Chris's voice trailed off. Then he shook his head, shut the door behind him, and gestured down the hall toward the elevator. "Alright, as fun as it is trading banter with you, I really do want to just talk. Take a walk with me. Please," he added, holding his arm out to let me lead the way.

"So what's the latest update on all the campaign stuff, Mr. Future Dictator Extraordinaire?"

He winced. "Please don't call me that. Politics isn't in my future, anyway. I'm pre-med."

"Pre-med," I said slowly. "Really."

"But...you know," Chris said, hesitating and avoiding my gaze, "after all that's happened lately, I'm beginning to think I was meant to do something else."

"You think your life purpose is to be freshman representative? Look, it's a great ambition and all, but long-term, you might want to aim your career goals a little higher—"

"Forget I said anything," Chris sighed, shaking his head. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, anyway." We fell into step together, our feet in perfect unison. The silence that stretched between should have felt uncomfortable, but it didn't. It felt pensive. Like we were both wrapped up in the same, deep thoughts. "So I did a little investigating after the university sent that email today," Chris started, "and I found out who the victim is."

"Who? How?"

"The president of the Gay-Straight Alliance, Louis Medina. Found out from a friend who has a friend who has a friend who knows a teacher who has a friend who—"

"Okay, I get it, Mr. Popular. You have sooooo many friends. This election should be a cinch."

Chris cocked an eyebrow at me. "You sound pretty confident that I'll win."

"Of course I do. I'm your campaign manager."

"Oh? Warming up to the title, are we?"

"Shut up. Like I have a choice," I retorted, feeling my face burn. "Besides, we still have a week, right? That's plenty of time to keep heckling everyone on campus for votes."