Page 50 of It's in the Contract
“And did you know she’s running for Homecoming Queen?” Zeke winks at me. “Click the link in the caption to vote. Let’s get a nerd on the throne, shall we?”
I grin.
Nineteen
Is this Callie’s weird revenge plan? What is up with her lately?
Text message from Noah Rossi to Brielle Williams.
I handout another button that says, “Vote for Callie,” a smile plastered to my face. My cheeks are aching. My bookbag is stuffed full of buttons, and I’m handing them out to everyone who passes through the school common area. I’m surprised and pleased how many people who I would’ve labeled “nerd” and thought wouldn’t care about Homecoming royalty take a button and promises to vote.
The common area is an open room where students stand and chat or pass through to get to their classes. It’s the perfect spot for me to reach a lot of people. Right now, it’s pretty packed as people head to the cafeteria, eat lunch at the tables and cushy green chairs scattered around the room, or stand in groups chatting.
“Thanks, Callie!” Shannon Moore, a short girl with vibrant red hair, takes a button. “I’ll definitely vote for you.”
“There’s a QR code to take you to the website right there,” I say, pointing to the badge. “Thanks so much for your support! We have History together, right?”
“Right!” Shannon smiles. “I didn’t even know you saw me.”
“Of course I did,” I say. “Your hair is so gorgeous, it stands out in a crowd.”
Shannon’s face turns the same shade as her hair. “Thank you.” She pauses. “I noticed you’ve been hanging out with Zeke Harris.” The tomato-red shade on her cheeks deepens. “He’s cute.”
Now it’s my turn to flush. “You think so?” I smile to a passing freshman boy and hand him a badge. He takes it with a wave and moves on. “He’s super nice, too.”
“I don’t know him very well,” Shannon says, fidgeting with the badge. I wish she would take out her phone and scan my nifty code. “But he does seem nice. I never thought that someone like you would hang out with someone like him.”
I stiffen. “Zeke is my friend.” Did that come out sounding too defensive?
Shannon finally pins the badge to her lime green hoodie. “Maybe you could tell him you think I’m cool or something?” All of that comes out in a big rush before Shannon hurries away, her face the shade of red velvet cake.
I hand out another badge to a girl with a high blonde ponytail passing by. “Vote for Callie!” She takes it and smiles.
I see Zeke out of the corner of my eye, and my breath catches. Shannon wasn’t wrong; he is more than cute. His curly black hair looks soft, and I wish I could run my fingers through it. His brown eyes, oh man. Better than chocolate chip cookies.
Whoa. What was that train of thought? Mentally I give myself a shake.
Zeke strides across the common room with a confident smile, and his face lights up when he sees me. It does something funnyto my insides. It’s strange how much seeing Zeke’s face warms my heart. And when I saw Noah at cheer practice yesterday—the football team was practicing on the field behind us—it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Brielle even gave him a kiss on the lips that turned into a make out session that our respective coaches had to break up, and I felt . . . nothing.
Heads glance from me—a girl in blushing pink heels, skinny jeans, and a Prada rose sweater—to him, confusion plain on their faces. Zeke’s wearing another Star Trek themed t-shirt and carrying an armload of thick fantasy books. I catch a glimpse of the titles—The Wheel of Time,Stormlight Archives,Assassinn’s Apprentice. Um. Wow.
Zeke doesn’t seem to notice everyone watching us. “Callie! How goes the button passing?”
I show him my nearly empty bookbag with just a few lone voting badges in the bottom. “Great! People seemed to like them.”
I’m grinning from ear to ear. This morning when I checked the website, I had passed Brielle. She was at two hundred and fifty votes, and I was at three hundred and twenty-five.
This is almost too easy.
Mom is going to be there at Homecoming. Besides our early morning workouts, I’ve barely seen her since school started. I want her to see me win so badly. I can picture me with the crown on my head. I can see Mom’s face in the audience, lighting up in a smile.
“How did your math test go?” Zeke shifts his armload of books.
“Do you need help with those books?”
Zeke moves from side to side to keep the stack from tipping. “I was just going to drop them off at my locker before I head to lunch.”
I sling my bookbag over my shoulder and hold out my arms. Zeke gives me half of the books, and we walk down the hallway toward his locker. Dang, these books are heavy. I’m grateful for all the bicep curls Mom has made me do.
