The phone rang a little while later. Dopey yelled down the hall that it was for me. I picked up, and heard Cee Cee squealing on the other end of the line.
"Ms. Vice President," she said. "Ms. Vice President, do you have any comment?"
I said, "No, and why are you calling me Ms. Vice President?"
"Because you won the election." In the background, I heard Adam shout, "Congratulations!"
"What election?" I asked, baffled.
"For vice president!" Cee Cee sounded annoyed. "Duh!"
"How could I have won it?" I said. "I wasn't even there."
"That's okay. You still won two-thirds of the sophomore class' vote."
"Two-thirds?" I'll admit it. That shocked me. "But, Cee Cee – I mean, why did people vote for me? They don't even know me. I'm the new kid."
Cee Cee said, "What can I say? You exude the confidence of a born leader."
"But – "
"And it probably doesn't hurt that you're from New York, and around here, people are fascinated by anything to do with New York."
"But – "
"And of course, you talk really fast."
"I do?"
"Sure you do. And that makes you seem smart. I mean, I think you are smart, but you also seem smart because you talk really fast. And you wear a lot of black, and black is, you know, cool."
"But – "
"Oh, and the fact that you saved Bryce from that falling chunk of wood. People like that kind of thing."
Two-thirds of the sophomore class at Mission High School, I thought, would probably have voted for the Easter Bunny if someone could have gotten him to run for office. But I didn't say so. Instead, I said, "Well. Neat. I guess."
"Neat?" Cee Cee sounded stunned. "Neat? That's all you have to say, neat? Do you have any idea how much fun we're going to have now that we've managed to get our hands on all that money? The cool things we'll be able to do?"
I said, "I guess that's really … great."
"Great? Suze, it's awesome! We are going to have an awesome, awesome semester! I'm so proud of you! And to think, I knew you when!"
I hung up the phone feeling a little overwhelmed. It isn't every day a girl gets elected vice president of a class she's been in for less than a week.
I hadn't even put the phone back into its cradle before it rang again. This time it was a girl's voice I didn't recognize, asking to speak to Suze Simon.
"This is she," I said, and Kelly Prescott shrieked in my ear.
"Omigod!" she cried. "Have you heard? Aren't you psyched? We are going to have a bitching year."
Bitching. All right. I said, calmly, "I look forward to working with you."
"Look," Kelly said, suddenly all business. "We have to get together soon and choose the music."
"The music for what?"
"For the dance, of course." I could hear her flipping through an organizer. "I've got a DJ all lined up. He sent me a play list, and we have to choose what songs for him to play. How's tomorrow night? What's wrong with you, anyway? You weren't in school today. You're not contagious, are you?"
I said, "Um, no. Listen, Kelly, about this dance. I don't know about it. I was thinking it might be more fun to spend the money on … well, something like a beach cookout."
She said, in a perfectly flat tone of voice, "A beach cookout."
"Yeah. With volleyball and a bonfire and stuff." I twisted the phone cord around my finger. "After we have Heather's memorial, of course."
"Heather's what?"
"Her memorial service. See, I figure you already booked the room at the Carmel Inn, right, for the dance? But instead of having a dance there, I think we should have a memorial service for Heather. I really think, you know, she'd have wanted it that way."
Kelly's tone was flat. "You never even met Heather."