14. The worst time to be the best you

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Shut up Vin, I can’t believe you did that to me. I don’t hate you forever but I hate you for right now and until an indefinable point in the future.”

Vin and Leila were walking a ways behind Paula, Astrid and James –which was the boy’s name. They had all managed to talk Leila into joining their team for the election, under pretense of needing her for her prowess with the written language, and promising her that they would keep her in the background at public events and wouldn’t ask her to speak. She’d been cornered by their logic. It was almost like they knew she couldn’t argue against something that sensible. If she weren’t so intent on keeping her cells together, she would be giving Vin several pieces of her mind.

Astrid, Vin’s crush, was a curvy girl with fresh-looking almond skin and poker-straight hair the color of rich, dark chocolate. She didn’t strike Leila as too much of anything other than cute, and that much was rather implanted into her mind by Vin’s opinion of her. In Leila’s personal apprehension of the girl’s character, she was about as exciting and provoking as lukewarm oatmeal. Her face wasn’t unpleasant, but it was just there, clocking in as the designated front of her head like every other day. The reason why Astrid could get away with being so bland was in all likelihood due to the fact that her father was the owner of a popular chain of jewelry stores in the city and, as such, was also very, very upper.

I wonder what filthy rich people busy themselves with all the time that keeps them from building their own personalities.

Leila cringed in the back of her mind at how unfair her reasoning was. She liked to fancy herself a decent judge of character, although it meant little in the practical aspect of her social interactions. Until others proved they didn’t deserve her time or respect, she did her best to treat everyone more or less the same.

James was a short, stocky guy with tan skin and hazel eyes. Leila knew girls considered him a hunk, but she didn’t see the appeal at all. He was understated in his approach to others though, which made him at least someone she could be around without great discomfort.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe it could even be fun, if Vin’s involved; as long as he’s not just ogling Astrid the whole time. That could get old in a hurry.

“Okay,” Paula’s voice rang out as she turned to face them, “the only thing we need now to be an official running party for the election is a sponsor teacher.”

“What would this teacher do for us?” Vin asked in a tone so grave it made Leila roll her eyes behind him. We’re not plotting to take over Russia here, Vin.

Paula answered much more plainly than Vin had asked, “It’s just a requisite, really. The teacher would just advise us on our campaign, make sure we comply with the rules for the election, and basically be a conduct between us and the principal’s office.”

“I think we should ask Miss Allen.” All eyes were on Leila at her utterance and even she seemed to want to turn to face the person who’d spoken up with such decided confidence. It just didn’t seem like something she would say, and certainly not the tone she would use.

“Well, alright,” Paula retorted after brief thought, “Let’s hope she hasn’t been spoken for by another team.”

They made it to the main offices’ front desk and asked Miss Young, a well-dressed lady with a head full of well-tamed, glossy corkscrew curls for an enrolment form. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a clipboard with several pages secured. She unclipped the last page and slid it over the others, then addressed the group with practiced detachment and clarity, “Who’s your president?”

Paula raised her hand and smiled. The lady handed her the clipboard and a pen, and she proceeded to fill out the application with help from James. Leila zoned out as they went over the names of the others who made up the group.

“Okay so there’s you, me, Leila, Vin, Astrid, Kevin, Lorna, Lucy and… who did we settle on, Will or Marco?”

Leila wanted to say that she would like them to make room for Evelyn, but waned when she realized they were milling over the choice between two high-profile third year students. As charming as Evelyn was, Leila couldn’t think of a single characteristic that would place her worth over that of a trained diplomat and a decorated athlete, both older and well respected students in her school.

She’d been sulking behind the group for a while thinking about this when a groan from Vin brought her back to her senses. “What’s wrong?”

She turned to face the group again just as Paula was handing the lady back her clipboard.

“Did you zone out again? Come on, I’ll tell you later.”

Vin and Leila said their goodbyes to the rest of the group and walked off to the first year classrooms together. Vin was chewing on his lips the way he did when he was especially nervous about something. Leila picked up on this with no effort, and felt her skin prickle as she asked him again, “Vincent, tell me what’s wrong.”

Vin stared her down, still chewing on his lip, as if he was searching for the best way to break the most horrible news to her.

It’s okay Leila, it’s okay, whatever it is you can deal with it. You’re not alone in this, there’s a whole group of students in this with you. They can protect you, or at the very least camouflage you for a while.

Vin started off like he was sticking a finger in a lion’s cage, “We peeked at the enrolment pages for the other groups.”

“And?”

“Well… the good news is that Miss Allen was not spoken for as sponsor. The bad news is… Lane Tibbs is running for vice president for another team.”

After a blank she was met by the expression of a shocked Vin.

“Excuse me, what was that?”

Leila looked up at Vin, a look on her face that matched the surprise in his voice. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said either. She shot her eyes to the side, knitted her brows and scanned her mind for any sign of regret, found none, and surprised herself again by repeating the words.

“I said it’s fine.”

What she said next was just as puzzling, “I’m not going to be able to expect any kind of life in these next three years, or however long they let me stay in this God forsaken place, if I can’t allow myself to trust that others just might be able to help me out when I need them.”

Leila turned her sight back to Vin’s face. She could see he was struggling to comprehend where this was all coming from. His face was flushed and his eyes shot away from her gaze. Is he thinking about not standing up for me and Evelyn on the bus? Give me a break, that won’t help at all right now.

“Look, Vin,” she continued, “I’m not in this alone for once, I mean, I trust you and Evelyn to stand up for me once in a while but you do it by listening to me and being on my level. These people are not on our level, and maybe that’s why doing this could turn out to be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Vin looked back at her then, the thought of doing something good for her friend curling up a corner of his mouth for a split-second. “You think so? I mean, of course making more friends in this place could be a good thing for us, safety in numbers and all that, right?”

As much as Leila sincerely loved her friend, something about the way he spoke felt like pressure on a bad bruise. She couldn’t place the source of any of these emotions, and that drove her mad. Her next words dripped out caustic and deliberate.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing, even if it wasn’t your original intention, sure.”

Satisfaction and regret clashed like jousting knights in Leila’s mind as Vin squirmed in discomfort at her words. She had a hard time deciding if she was horrible for saying it, or for believing he deserved it even after the fact.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Anyway” she blurted in haste, trying to get past her unusual mood, “did they decide on the last member of the team?”

“Yeah, since the other team has Lane, we went with Marco. They seem to think maybe having his buddy on our team will help tone him down a little if he tries to come for us.”

“Wow, does everyone have a beef with this guy?” Leila found unexpected hope in this idea, perhaps standing together with people on the same boat in regards to Tibbs could help her fade back into the background. She resolved right then to put forth her best work to aid the group. It was to no small extent playing into the game others played in the academy, and that part troubled her in the back of her mind. Still, being a player and having a chance to be caught before hitting the ground seemed more favorable than just going it alone with her little gang of merry losers. She just had to try.

Vin parted ways with Leila to rejoin Astrid and James, who beckoned at him from a distance. She stepped into the restroom, locked herself in a stall and sat on the toilet seat with the lid down. She did this often when she just needed a moment to think or be alone. It never lasted more than a few minutes, since she had to stand up and flush the second someone else walked in the room. She’d just managed to get the first of her thoughts in order when loud, cackling laughter from outside put her on edge. She flushed and stepped out of the stall in a fluster, only to find Hannah and Frieda fussing with their hair in front of the restroom mirrors.

Of course.

It was inevitable; she couldn’t just step out past them, because the mirrors were located right above the row of sinks. She had to go to the sink farthest from the exit, and hope against hope whatever they were discussing that day was juicy enough to keep them from pouncing on her. Her hope faded and her stomach sank like a cinder block in a swamp when Hannah spoke up first.

“We can’t talk about that anymore Frieds, as you can see, there were prying feet under the stalls. They’re setting up spies all over the school trying to get at our secrets for winning student council.”

Frieda gave a low, throaty chuckle and added, “I can’t believe anyone would be desperate enough to try and beat us, but it’ll be fun to watch them try.”

They didn’t even turn to look at Leila as they spoke, which only made the whole exchange all the more indignant. She wanted to speak up, but knew that would only spur them further, and the only thing she could hope for at the moment was a clean getaway. Leila had already acted out her hand wash as an engrossing ordeal that left her with no mind left over to spare their way, even though she was quite conscious of everything they said.

She was done and almost out the door, a sour bubbling building up in her belly, when she pulled the lever of the hand tissue dispenser a couple of times and Hannah reached over and  ripped the length of tissue right out from under Leila’s nose without so much as a glance spared her way. She tore the paper in half and gave Frieda a piece, and both proceeded to blot their faces.

It was such a simple snub, so childish in fact, that Leila was surprised to feel something hot rising through her body, something that would not take long to reach her thoughts and take over, effectively benching her over thinking ways.

Frieda piped up, “It’s just so miserably sunny for November right now, so sweaty. But hey, at least we’re not glowing grease balls like some others, you know?”

Hannah shrieked in delight at the opportunity to bite deeper into the flesh of the aggravated Leila, and added her own, “Yeah, I know! I mean, if anything’s more painful than being a straight up greasy disco ball, I’m sure it’s not even being able to apply a drop of lip gloss in hopes of outshining your forehead. It’s so sad, really. Take Leila here, for example, I think she’s really brave, walking around looking like that all the time. Do you ever feel like crap, Leila? I know I do sometimes when I get a pimple or two, I just don’t know how you manage.”

That was it. At that very moment, the events building up from the previous day and the previous weeks all seemed to reach critical mass. Leila felt something in her head release like a firecracker with a remarkably short wick shooting off without a warning. In an intense couple of seconds she straightened up, formulated her answer, stood erect facing the demonic, lopsided grins of the two flaccid-brained figures before her, and said in a voice so clear it seemed to be coming from a virtuous ventriloquist, “Yes, you’d be glad to know I feel like that sometimes as well.” They seemed to relish this first part of her answer, even seemed to be spinning the cogs of their dysfunctional little brains for further fodder, but before they could be afforded the satisfaction, Leila went on, “Mine is a genetic condition. I heard it’s not as easy to fix as learning how not to apply a ten-pound coat of makeup, but a lot easier to overcome than being a vapid, feeble-brained bitch.”

The reaction was immediate, but not on point with what Leila expected. Frieda was down for the count. She had a look on her face like she’d just shoved a spoonful of searing-hot mashed potatoes in her mouth and was trying to decide whether to swallow or spit. Hannah seemed to have come close to parking her final reaction on the same spot as her friend, but much to Leila’s chagrin her visage snapped right back and became a gruesome mix of contempt and resolve.

It all became a haze for a few minutes after Leila heard Hannah speak of going through school channels to make sure her father heard about the way she just spoke to them.

When she regained ownership of her thoughts, Leila found herself in a curious scene. She was sitting at one of the round, metal cafeteria tables confronted by the gaze of three boys. The concerned, slightly guilt-ridden one belonged to Vin. The more critical one that seemed to be working her out like a math problem belonged to James, the second year student from her freshly-formed student council group. The third was a mix of so many possible emotions that they all just seemed to cancel each other out and become a chiseled freeze-frame of a look. That glance belonged to Marco.