فصل 41

CHAPTER 41

Not-So-Secret Letter

In that foggy time between sleeping and being awake, before I even open my eyes, I already remember that I am class president. I ask myself if it was a dream, knowing that it wasn’t. Knowing by the way it feels like my insides are rising into the air even before I sit up. It’s like when you wake up on Christmas morning and remember what day it is.

I lie there thinking that I’m happy Mr. Daniels counted the votes in front of everyone. I don’t think I would have believed him if he’d just said I’d won later.

When I get to school, everyone acts the same, but I feel different. I put my stuff away and head to my desk, where I find an envelope with my name on the front. Weird.

I sit down and slide it off the desk. Glancing around, I pull a piece of paper from the envelope. I expect it will be a note from Mr. Daniels congratulating me. But it’s not.

It’s a full page of cursive writing. I recognize some of the words, like love, but I don’t know what most of it says. The name at the bottom is Max. I look over at him and he nods once. I look away, feeling like my face must be glowing like Rudolph’s nose.

I fold up the letter and slide it into my pocket, wishing I could read it. I think that when I get home and can study it, I may be able to figure it out. But I can’t stare at it now. I look over at Keisha, who is putting her things in the closet.

Hey, she says, sitting down.

Hey. My mouth opens to tell her about the note, but she’s not the best person at being quiet about things, and I’m afraid everyone will find out about it.

So I take a deep breath and decide it will have to wait. I don’t have a choice. I’m both happy and mad at myself. Happy about the note and mad I can’t read it. Max is cute and I like the red-and-white football jerseys that he wears all the time. And now that I think he likes me, I think I might like him, too.

So how does it feel to be president? Keisha smiles.

Oh yeah. Man, this may be the best week of my entire life. Same old stuff, I say.

Huh. Same old stuff? Already gone to your head?

Don’t worry. I’ll still talk to you and everything.

Like you could ever ignore me. We both laugh.

Okay, my Fantasticos! Mr. Daniels begins. He reminds us to put our homework in the basket and gets the class helpers working on lunch counts and stuff. And I sit up straighter. Feeling like I have a place in this class.

After Mr. Daniels finishes with the boring morning stuff, he says, One more thing. Our new class president, Ally Nickerson, has her first student government meeting today. So, if you have any suggestions for her, please let her know. If you have ideas for changes, she’s the one in charge.

I know that I shouldn’t smile, but keeping my mouth from smiling is like trying to keep Travis from loving cars.

The first suggestion I get is from Oliver. I’m trying to do my work and he stands in front of my desk. I have a suggestion.

Okay. What is it?

I think we should be able to bring candy for snacks. Like piles of it. Like dump trucks backing up to the school with the warning beeper going. And then it would dump, like, a huge pile of candy in front of the school and the kids could use shovels to collect it, because that rule they made this year about healthy snacks is dumb and took away the only thing about school I liked and—

Oliver? Mr. Daniels interrupts.

He looks up.

You have a question?

I’m giving my advice to the president. I have an idea.

He half smiles. Okay, then. Well, finish up and get back to your seat.

Oliver looks back at me. Okay? Can you do that?

I’ll try?

He looks disappointed.

Suki interrupts. I disagree. The healthier snack rule was good. It is bad for your body to fill with candy.

He looks over at her. Stop acting like you’re a grown-up. Geez.

Other kids give me suggestions, too.

Just before lunch, I hear Shay complaining that if she’d been elected, she’d have started a horseback riding club at school. For a second, I feel bad, and then I realize she couldn’t possibly do that. Horses? Where would we get horses?

I think about starting a Fly to the Moon Every Thursday club. And a mind movie plays in my head of a silver rocket with blue stripes flying to the moon with Keisha, Albert, and me strapped in. Albert calmly explains the energy required to lift the rocket. Keisha is screaming, she’s so happy, and I’m laughing because I’m happy they’re happy.

I’m pulled out of my movie by Shay, who’s standing in front of me. Everyone agrees. You should go crawl into a hole and never come out.

Since I won the election, I guess not everyone feels that way.

And I’m surprised that instead of saying something back to me, she just stomps off.

• • •

At the end of the day, as we are getting ready to board the buses, Shay tromps up to me with her shadow, Jessica, right behind her. So, did you get the letter?

Why is she asking me about that?

A little voice in my head warns me. What letter?

Shay glances behind her and turns back. You know. The letter.

What are you talking about? I ask.

She is impatient. The letter . . . She drops her voice to a whisper. From Max saying you should meet him for lunch. You never showed. He is really disappointed.

Oh. He is?

She glances behind herself again. So, do you like him?

Why did he want to see me at lunch?

Ally. You can’t just ignore something like that. It’s rude . . .

I see Max coming but don’t say anything.

She continues. He really likes you, so you should answer Max’s letter. And say the thing in it that he says to. Okay? Will you tomorrow?

What letter? he asks.

Max? Oh, hi, Shay says, stumbling over her words.

What letter? You said my name.

I never thought I’d see Shay unable to talk.

Actually, I say, the love letter Shay says you wrote to me. I hand it to him. Thanks very much, but I’m busy.

Um . . . wait. I never . . . I didn’t actually . . . , he says to me, trying to be nice. Then he looks at the letter and at Shay and Jessica. And he doesn’t look so nice.

Jessica turns pale. But not as pale as Shay does.

Whatever was going to happen at the lunch table is something I’m lucky to have missed. It’s the first time ever I’ve been grateful not to be able to read.