campaign," mimicked Shuler. "You all know each other; you don't need any presidential debates. There will be one captain for the boys, and one captain for the girls. Boys vote for boys; girls vote for girls. If you're not sure what you are, ask me and I'll tell you."
Someone lifted Sarah Dozer's hand. She elbowed him in the ribs.
"OK. Come on up. Here's the ballot box, and please put the pencils back in the can when you're done."
I filled in Martin Bricker's name, figuring it was low-class to vote for myself, and I certainly wasn't about to vote for Austin.
As Austin approached the ballot box, he turned to mo and smiled that crocodile smile that screamed "You loser!" from across the room. I smiled that "We'll see" smile right back at him.
"When will you have the results?" asked Martin.
"They'll be posted on the main bulletin board tomorrow, by lunch."
The group groaned.
"C'mon, it's only one day. Now, when I call your name, some up and I'll give you your locker number."
That night Cheryl and I sat in her old tree house, talking and trying to get my mind off of the election. I never remembered the tree house being so small. I bet it was even too small for Randall to sit in comfortably now. Sometimes I like growing, but at times like that I didn't. I remember when I could lie down across the floor in the tree house. It could fit all three of us—me, Cheryl, and Randall—each in our sleeping bags, late at night, telling ghost stories and drinking chocolate shakes, which were still one of my favorite foods in the world. I loved those days.
Now I couldn't even sit in it without bending my knees.it had been almost a year since I had been in it. Cheryl only lived down the street, but we never had much of a reason to go up into the tree house anymore.
It was Cheryl who had said, "Let's talk in the tree house," and I had said, "Fine," figuring it would cheer me up. Now, an hour later, the twilight was more twi than light, and the early September chill had come rolling in off the ocean.
"What else?" said Cheryl. "Keep thinking."
"I don't know, I can't think of any more."
"Don't you have any imagination?" "No."
"Yes, you do," she said.
"OK . . . umm." I thought hard. "I know . . . I would hang him by his toes . . . upside down . . . over a bear trap."
Cheryl laughed. "Now you're getting really gross."
"You asked for it. Your turn."
"OK. Next time she sings . . . I would throw roses at her, like that guy did, for her to put behind her ears. Only I would make sure they had lots of thorns on 'em!"
I grimaced.
"Your turn," she said.
"I would set Austin loose in Lion Country Wild Animal Park, and see how fast he runs. Next."
"Oohh! Vicious! Let's see . . . I would . . . I would fill her little lunch-box thermos with hydrochloric acid."
"Not fair," I said. "I said that one at the wedding."
"Well, then how about a king cobra in her lunch box?"
"No, wait . . . I've got one for you," I said. "Why don't we get her a nice date . . . with Tyson McGaw?"
"Ugh! A fate worse than death!" We both laughed goodand hard just trying to imagine Rebecca and slimy Tyson McGaw together. What a match!
"I can't believe we're really this nasty!" I said.
"But isn't it fun?" said Cheryl.
I guess it was. It was sort of like watching those horror movies. Sure, they're sick and gross and bloody and all that, but everyone still loves them, right?
"I mean, it's not like we're really doing anything to them," said Cheryl. "We're not really mean and terrible, it's just a game. Everybody has someone that really irks them, and there's nothing wrong with pretending, right?"
"Wait a second, I just had a brainstorm," I said. "We'll pay some bozo to pretend to teach Austin to walk on hot coals, and when he finally goes for it, he'll burn off his feet. So much for running!"
"You're awful," laughed Cheryl. Then she stopped laughing, and thought for a moment. Without the sound of our voices, the night seemed very quiet. I don't think I heard as much
Someone lifted Sarah Dozer's hand. She elbowed him in the ribs.
"OK. Come on up. Here's the ballot box, and please put the pencils back in the can when you're done."
I filled in Martin Bricker's name, figuring it was low-class to vote for myself, and I certainly wasn't about to vote for Austin.
As Austin approached the ballot box, he turned to mo and smiled that crocodile smile that screamed "You loser!" from across the room. I smiled that "We'll see" smile right back at him.
"When will you have the results?" asked Martin.
"They'll be posted on the main bulletin board tomorrow, by lunch."
The group groaned.
"C'mon, it's only one day. Now, when I call your name, some up and I'll give you your locker number."
That night Cheryl and I sat in her old tree house, talking and trying to get my mind off of the election. I never remembered the tree house being so small. I bet it was even too small for Randall to sit in comfortably now. Sometimes I like growing, but at times like that I didn't. I remember when I could lie down across the floor in the tree house. It could fit all three of us—me, Cheryl, and Randall—each in our sleeping bags, late at night, telling ghost stories and drinking chocolate shakes, which were still one of my favorite foods in the world. I loved those days.
Now I couldn't even sit in it without bending my knees.it had been almost a year since I had been in it. Cheryl only lived down the street, but we never had much of a reason to go up into the tree house anymore.
It was Cheryl who had said, "Let's talk in the tree house," and I had said, "Fine," figuring it would cheer me up. Now, an hour later, the twilight was more twi than light, and the early September chill had come rolling in off the ocean.
"What else?" said Cheryl. "Keep thinking."
"I don't know, I can't think of any more."
"Don't you have any imagination?" "No."
"Yes, you do," she said.
"OK . . . umm." I thought hard. "I know . . . I would hang him by his toes . . . upside down . . . over a bear trap."
Cheryl laughed. "Now you're getting really gross."
"You asked for it. Your turn."
"OK. Next time she sings . . . I would throw roses at her, like that guy did, for her to put behind her ears. Only I would make sure they had lots of thorns on 'em!"
I grimaced.
"Your turn," she said.
"I would set Austin loose in Lion Country Wild Animal Park, and see how fast he runs. Next."
"Oohh! Vicious! Let's see . . . I would . . . I would fill her little lunch-box thermos with hydrochloric acid."
"Not fair," I said. "I said that one at the wedding."
"Well, then how about a king cobra in her lunch box?"
"No, wait . . . I've got one for you," I said. "Why don't we get her a nice date . . . with Tyson McGaw?"
"Ugh! A fate worse than death!" We both laughed goodand hard just trying to imagine Rebecca and slimy Tyson McGaw together. What a match!
"I can't believe we're really this nasty!" I said.
"But isn't it fun?" said Cheryl.
I guess it was. It was sort of like watching those horror movies. Sure, they're sick and gross and bloody and all that, but everyone still loves them, right?
"I mean, it's not like we're really doing anything to them," said Cheryl. "We're not really mean and terrible, it's just a game. Everybody has someone that really irks them, and there's nothing wrong with pretending, right?"
"Wait a second, I just had a brainstorm," I said. "We'll pay some bozo to pretend to teach Austin to walk on hot coals, and when he finally goes for it, he'll burn off his feet. So much for running!"
"You're awful," laughed Cheryl. Then she stopped laughing, and thought for a moment. Without the sound of our voices, the night seemed very quiet. I don't think I heard as much
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