voice despite the layers of sheets and blankets she’d pulled up over her head to block the too-bright Friday morning sun.
“Time to get up. We gotta get you to school early if you’re going to have enough time to explain everything to Ms. Perdomo.”
Celia shot straight up, suddenly super-awake, her heart pounding. Her frizzy curls danced around her head. Her mom stood at the edge of the bed, her hands on her hips.
“So you do know,” Celia said, letting her posture go slack.
“Oh, mamita , moms always know these things. What I don’t get is why you’ve been keeping it from me. Do you not trust me?”
Celia leaned back on her arms, squinting in the light. “It’s not that, Mom.” She pushed the covers down with her feet and stared at her retro Wonder Woman pajama pants. “I just knew you’d tell me what a bad move it all was, that I should be confident and run myself, all the stuff you’re supposed to say.”
“If you knew that I was going to tell you that—which, by the way, is all true and I’m very impressed with my theoretical advice—then shouldn’t that have been a red flag that maybe this was a bad idea?”
Her mom didn’t look or sound angry; she was sincerely asking Celia this question. Celia wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders, warming them up to fight the blast of the air conditioner.
“I was just hoping it would all work out somehow.”
Her mom sat on the bed, smoothing the sheets with her palms. She had the same dark curly hair as Celia but it had settled a little with age. Celia hoped the same would happen to her own locks as she got older.
“Sometimes I worry you’re too smart for your own good, mi cielo. ” She kissed Celia on the forehead. “But let me tell you, you’re goingto need those brains today to get you out of this mess.”
Her mom started to arrange Celia’s curls around her face, smoothing them as she had the sheets. “I figured you needed last night to straighten things out for yourself, so I left you alone—and besides, you haven’t wanted my advice so far.”
Her mom pouted in an exaggerated, teasing way, but Celia still felt a lump of guilt rise in her throat. “But now I want to hear what you’re thinking about how to fix this.”
Celia shrugged, then let herself fall back to her pillows. When it came to a new plan, she was truly stumped. She’d spent all night looking at her ceiling, or at the minutes blinking away on the clock perched on her desk. She wished everything could be as simple as a science experiment, with its methods and outlined procedures, and systems for recording results. But the problem had actually started when she decided to tackle the election the same way she would an experiment. Celia hadn’t accounted for so many variables—Laz being the other candidate, his wanting her as his campaign manager, Mari landing the lead in the play, her and Mari’s mixed-up feelings over Laz—that the experiment hadofficially gone haywire almost right away. She couldn’t find the right solution to such a complicated problem.
The only thing that made her feel better was something her science teacher had said last year, when she was struggling to interpret the results of the experiment that would go on to win her first place in the fair: The best solution is usually the simplest one available. But Celia had drifted off to sleep without coming to any firm conclusions about her next move.
“I guess it has to start with talking to Ms. Perdomo,” Celia finally said. “Coming clean, and at some point soon, apologizing to Mari.”
“I would say so,” her mom said.
Celia looked at the desk where she’d written Mari’s speech—the speech that had gone over so well and had gotten so many compliments. Mari might have gotten the credit, but Celia knew it was her speech. The best solution is usually the simplest one available , a voice echoed in Celia’s head. Then she heard Mari’s words: You’re the real candidate
“Time to get up. We gotta get you to school early if you’re going to have enough time to explain everything to Ms. Perdomo.”
Celia shot straight up, suddenly super-awake, her heart pounding. Her frizzy curls danced around her head. Her mom stood at the edge of the bed, her hands on her hips.
“So you do know,” Celia said, letting her posture go slack.
“Oh, mamita , moms always know these things. What I don’t get is why you’ve been keeping it from me. Do you not trust me?”
Celia leaned back on her arms, squinting in the light. “It’s not that, Mom.” She pushed the covers down with her feet and stared at her retro Wonder Woman pajama pants. “I just knew you’d tell me what a bad move it all was, that I should be confident and run myself, all the stuff you’re supposed to say.”
“If you knew that I was going to tell you that—which, by the way, is all true and I’m very impressed with my theoretical advice—then shouldn’t that have been a red flag that maybe this was a bad idea?”
Her mom didn’t look or sound angry; she was sincerely asking Celia this question. Celia wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders, warming them up to fight the blast of the air conditioner.
“I was just hoping it would all work out somehow.”
Her mom sat on the bed, smoothing the sheets with her palms. She had the same dark curly hair as Celia but it had settled a little with age. Celia hoped the same would happen to her own locks as she got older.
“Sometimes I worry you’re too smart for your own good, mi cielo. ” She kissed Celia on the forehead. “But let me tell you, you’re goingto need those brains today to get you out of this mess.”
Her mom started to arrange Celia’s curls around her face, smoothing them as she had the sheets. “I figured you needed last night to straighten things out for yourself, so I left you alone—and besides, you haven’t wanted my advice so far.”
Her mom pouted in an exaggerated, teasing way, but Celia still felt a lump of guilt rise in her throat. “But now I want to hear what you’re thinking about how to fix this.”
Celia shrugged, then let herself fall back to her pillows. When it came to a new plan, she was truly stumped. She’d spent all night looking at her ceiling, or at the minutes blinking away on the clock perched on her desk. She wished everything could be as simple as a science experiment, with its methods and outlined procedures, and systems for recording results. But the problem had actually started when she decided to tackle the election the same way she would an experiment. Celia hadn’t accounted for so many variables—Laz being the other candidate, his wanting her as his campaign manager, Mari landing the lead in the play, her and Mari’s mixed-up feelings over Laz—that the experiment hadofficially gone haywire almost right away. She couldn’t find the right solution to such a complicated problem.
The only thing that made her feel better was something her science teacher had said last year, when she was struggling to interpret the results of the experiment that would go on to win her first place in the fair: The best solution is usually the simplest one available. But Celia had drifted off to sleep without coming to any firm conclusions about her next move.
“I guess it has to start with talking to Ms. Perdomo,” Celia finally said. “Coming clean, and at some point soon, apologizing to Mari.”
“I would say so,” her mom said.
Celia looked at the desk where she’d written Mari’s speech—the speech that had gone over so well and had gotten so many compliments. Mari might have gotten the credit, but Celia knew it was her speech. The best solution is usually the simplest one available , a voice echoed in Celia’s head. Then she heard Mari’s words: You’re the real candidate
Similar Books
