Don't Vote for Me Read Free Page A

popularity contest that we called an election were getting to fill the five-seat student council and getting to pick a vice, who, along with the class president, ran the student council meetings and coordinated with Ms. Quintero on “important school business” (according to the school constitution). Whoever had come up with this idea clearly wasn’t a BG. We’d been underrepresented since 1787.
    Spencer opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out, his attention shifted to something—or someone—over my shoulder. Grudgingly, I turned around. Veronica was climbing onto the populars’ table, giving everyone a look at her signature All Stars. They were in such good condition that they looked brand-new, but I’d been shopping secondhand since Radcliff, one of my brothers, had introduced me to the art nearly six years earlier. Those skinnier toe caps meant that that pair of All Stars was thirty years old (at least). If Radcliff had been here, he probably would have offered her his whole PEZ collection—not to mention his firstborn child—for those vintage shoes.
    I tried to tell myself that her plans had nothing to do with me, but I still wanted to dash . Except I couldn’t move. Not even the lunch ladies were immune to Veronica’s powers. One of them tried to intervene, but one look from Veronica froze the woman in her tracks.
    Veronica surveyed the lunchroom like a queen surveying her kingdom. “It has come to my attention that a certain unnamed someone thinks I don’t have the perspective to speak for this class. Now, I’ll remind this someone that I’ve won the last two elections without breaking a sweat, but in case you think I won because no one ran against me, let me set the record straight. I’m perfectly willing to campaign against anyone—and I mean, anyone —who thinks he or she can beat me.” She scanned the crowd with frosty eyes—until those eyes landed on me. “So by all means, join the race. And may the best candidate win.”
    She held my gaze for one more second, then tossed her hair over her shoulder and hopped down from the table. Brady extended his hand, but she paid it no heed. After disposing of her bagel, she swept out of the lunchroom with her nose in the air.
    While her friends raced to catch up, I just sat there, stunned. I’d already lost my appetite, but now I was afraid that I might lose my lunch. I wrapped an arm around my stomach and hunkered down behind my lunch box. Maybe if I asked him nicely, the Tick would fight my battles for me.
    Riley shivered from head to toes. “What are you going to do?” he whispered.
    â€œWhat do you think?” I asked. “I’m gonna hightail it to Panama and open up a taco shop.”
    â€œYou can’t make tacos,” he said. “And I don’t think they eat them there, anyway.”
    â€œAnd,” Spencer replied, “you don’t have a passport. I’d let you borrow mine, but you’re pastier than I am.”
    Spencer was the only kid in SV who had an actual passport, which he used to travel between SV and Hong Kong. He was born in New Hampshire (or maybe New Jersey), but his parents were Hong Kongans (or whatever you called them).
    I knotted my arms across my chest. “Then I’ll just do nothing,” I said.
    Spencer rolled his eyes. “You can’t do nothing,” he replied. “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.”
    â€œOf course I can,” I replied, coating each word with confidence. “I’m really good at doing nothing. It’s one of my better skills.”
    Riley snorted, then sighed.
    â€œThis will all blow over in a few days,” I said. “You just wait and see.”
    Spencer inhaled another wad of French fries. “You don’t believe that for a second.”
    Of course I don’t , I almost said, but for once, I kept my mouth