hand.
“Two hundred thirty.”
“See?” Larry spread his arms wide for emphasis. He was turning into a lawyer right in front of our eyes. “It doesn't add up. You counted six hundred thirty-nine votes. But our ledger shows that six hundred and forty-one people voted.”
Walt looked pained, as though he were attempting the math in his head.
“Two votes are missing,” Larry added helpfully. “You can check the register.”
“He's right,” I said. “Two people must have pocketed their ballots in the booth. There's really no way for us to prevent that.”
“They were
there,”
Larry insisted. “I counted six hundred and forty-one votes.”
I patted him on the shoulder, a fatherly and forgiving gesture.
“It happens, Larry. People make mistakes.”
He glared at me, offended by my touch.
“I didn't make a mistake. Every vote was there when you sat down.”
“Whoa.” Walt's voice carried a sharp note of warning. “Easy, DiBono. Don't say anything you'll regret in the morning.”
Even then, Larry wouldn't back down. He was starting to scare me.
“I'm telling you, Mr. Hendricks. Every vote was accounted for.”
“Okay,” said Walt. “Take it easy. Let's use our heads here. Where could they have gone?”
Larry drilled me with a look of undisguised contempt.
“Under the blotter,” he said. “Maybe they slid there by accident.”
Walt lifted the blotter and shook his head.
“Check inside the ballot box,” I suggested.
The bell rang, signaling the end of seventh period. Walt turned the box upside down and gave it a shake. Nothing fell out.
“Under the desk.” Larry spoke quickly, knowing we were pressed for time.
A powerful adrenaline rush shot through my bodyas Walt knelt to the floor. For the first time all day, my head was clear. For the first time in what felt like months, I made a smart decision.
“Don't forget the garbage can,” I called out.
Walt stood up after only a few seconds had passed, not long enough for him to make a thorough search of the wastebasket, which was filled with a day's worth of wrappers, memos, and paper cups. He dusted off his pants and straightened his tie.
“Sorry, gents. Negative on both counts.”
PAUL WARREN
IT WAS LIKE the Oscars, only worse. Tracy and I were made to sit together on stage in front of the whole school so everyone could watch our reactions when Larry announced the winner. It was a needlessly cruel arrangement, and I vowed to abolish it if I were lucky enough to be elected.
Tracy seemed like a different person now that the voting was over, no longer the fierce opponent I'd come to fear and dislike in recent weeks. She smiled as I took my seat and graciously offered her hand.
“However this turns out,” she told me, “I want you to know that you've run a wonderful campaign. It's been an honor competing with you.”
I shook her hand without hesitation, moved by the generosity of the gesture. It's probably a defect in my personality, this eagerness to forgive and forget.
“It's been a long road,” I said. “I'm kind of glad it's finally over.”
“Not me.” She took a moment to survey the rows upon rows of faces spread out below us. “I'll miss all the excitement.”
“I guess I like it dull.”
“Huh.” She made a face. “Your life doesn't seem all that dull to me.”
“All this glitz and glamour's just a smokescreen,” I told her with a laugh. “At heart, I'm a very boring person.”
She leaned closer. Her expression was hard to read.
“I get so jealous watching you and Lisa in the hallway. It's been a long time since anyone kissed me like that.”
I tried not to show it, but I was startled by her remark. Not only because she'd been watching me and Lisa, but also because I was pretty sure she was referring to Mr. Dexter. He'd disappeared overnight, without a word of explanation, but everyone knew that it had something to do with Tracy. In one story, her mother caught them fucking in her bedroom; in
“Two hundred thirty.”
“See?” Larry spread his arms wide for emphasis. He was turning into a lawyer right in front of our eyes. “It doesn't add up. You counted six hundred thirty-nine votes. But our ledger shows that six hundred and forty-one people voted.”
Walt looked pained, as though he were attempting the math in his head.
“Two votes are missing,” Larry added helpfully. “You can check the register.”
“He's right,” I said. “Two people must have pocketed their ballots in the booth. There's really no way for us to prevent that.”
“They were
there,”
Larry insisted. “I counted six hundred and forty-one votes.”
I patted him on the shoulder, a fatherly and forgiving gesture.
“It happens, Larry. People make mistakes.”
He glared at me, offended by my touch.
“I didn't make a mistake. Every vote was there when you sat down.”
“Whoa.” Walt's voice carried a sharp note of warning. “Easy, DiBono. Don't say anything you'll regret in the morning.”
Even then, Larry wouldn't back down. He was starting to scare me.
“I'm telling you, Mr. Hendricks. Every vote was accounted for.”
“Okay,” said Walt. “Take it easy. Let's use our heads here. Where could they have gone?”
Larry drilled me with a look of undisguised contempt.
“Under the blotter,” he said. “Maybe they slid there by accident.”
Walt lifted the blotter and shook his head.
“Check inside the ballot box,” I suggested.
The bell rang, signaling the end of seventh period. Walt turned the box upside down and gave it a shake. Nothing fell out.
“Under the desk.” Larry spoke quickly, knowing we were pressed for time.
A powerful adrenaline rush shot through my bodyas Walt knelt to the floor. For the first time all day, my head was clear. For the first time in what felt like months, I made a smart decision.
“Don't forget the garbage can,” I called out.
Walt stood up after only a few seconds had passed, not long enough for him to make a thorough search of the wastebasket, which was filled with a day's worth of wrappers, memos, and paper cups. He dusted off his pants and straightened his tie.
“Sorry, gents. Negative on both counts.”
PAUL WARREN
IT WAS LIKE the Oscars, only worse. Tracy and I were made to sit together on stage in front of the whole school so everyone could watch our reactions when Larry announced the winner. It was a needlessly cruel arrangement, and I vowed to abolish it if I were lucky enough to be elected.
Tracy seemed like a different person now that the voting was over, no longer the fierce opponent I'd come to fear and dislike in recent weeks. She smiled as I took my seat and graciously offered her hand.
“However this turns out,” she told me, “I want you to know that you've run a wonderful campaign. It's been an honor competing with you.”
I shook her hand without hesitation, moved by the generosity of the gesture. It's probably a defect in my personality, this eagerness to forgive and forget.
“It's been a long road,” I said. “I'm kind of glad it's finally over.”
“Not me.” She took a moment to survey the rows upon rows of faces spread out below us. “I'll miss all the excitement.”
“I guess I like it dull.”
“Huh.” She made a face. “Your life doesn't seem all that dull to me.”
“All this glitz and glamour's just a smokescreen,” I told her with a laugh. “At heart, I'm a very boring person.”
She leaned closer. Her expression was hard to read.
“I get so jealous watching you and Lisa in the hallway. It's been a long time since anyone kissed me like that.”
I tried not to show it, but I was startled by her remark. Not only because she'd been watching me and Lisa, but also because I was pretty sure she was referring to Mr. Dexter. He'd disappeared overnight, without a word of explanation, but everyone knew that it had something to do with Tracy. In one story, her mother caught them fucking in her bedroom; in
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