I found out that the boy Levina liked was Sinclair.
Back in class, when the headboy was listing the rules and regulations by which the contest will be governed by, I had, out of a whim, turned aside to look at my friend; only to find out that she was watching Sinclair as an ardent fan would; not just a mere fan, but a fan in love with her object of fanship.
Levina had been been hanging on his every word. And when he had called out her name—as the my campaign manager—listing off the do's and don'ts of her office, I had watched her ears turn pink.
I had been amused. But I hadn't told her. That would've embarrassed her the more. I had decided to wait until she was secured enough to let me know about her likeness for the headboy and when it had started.
