Total Knockout (15 page)

For a second Melanie looked like she didn't know what I was talking about. Then she said, “Oh, that? I could care less.”

When I didn't say more, she asked, “Hey, are you mad at me?”

“No,” I lied.

“Because I was sort of worried that you would be, about the boxing thing.”

“Nuh-uh.” I didn't even try to sound reassuring. I didn't have the energy.

“It's just that, you made boxing seem so cool and all, and like a great workout, and I wanted to try it. And Cooper said you wouldn't mind if I used your gloves and stuff.”

I hated thinking about her wearing my gloves,
playing my sport, with my best friend. I wanted to know if Cooper was just her latest fad, one she'd abandon in two weeks, and if so, I'd have to immediately whoop her for it. But I didn't say any of that to her. “It's fine. I don't care.”

“Okay,” she said, somewhat carefully. “Are you going in to lunch?”

“No, I'm going for a walk around the field,” I said.

Melanie nodded. “Okay. Well, I'll see you on the bus, right?”

“Yeah, I'll be there.”

“Cool. Take it easy, Lucia.”

I turned to walk toward the field, but before I could get too far, a thought sprang into my head like a Mexican jumping bean. “Wait! Melanie!”

She turned to me, the brim of her fedora shading her left eye. “Yeah?”

“Did Cooper wrap your hands?” She looked at me questioningly. “You know, with the black cloth wrap? Before you put on the gloves?”

“No,” she said. “I just wore the gloves. Why?”

Feeling mildly relieved, I said, “No reason,” then walked away.

By the end of lunch, everyone had read the article and most had seen the online poll. By the end of the day, the school was calling for my resignation.

I got a note in last-period physical science. I expected it to be from Ms. Jenkins, and it was. She wanted to see me immediately after the bell.

When I walked into her office, she tossed her pen, sat back, and folded her arms.

“I know.” I sighed as I sat down. “I messed up.” I didn't want Ms. Jenkins, who (along with my mom) was probably already disappointed in me, to hate me or think I was a sneaky little jerk.

“Lucia,” she began, shaking her head. Her face and voice softened, and she said, “Honey, what were you thinking?”

Feeling better that she spoke to me so gently, I said,
“I guess I wasn't. The only thing on my mind was making sure the vote went through in time.”

“I feel like,” she began, “you took advantage of the council's not knowing the bylaws.” I felt tears well up when she said that. “Now, I'm not saying I'm blameless. I should have known those laws better. That was my mistake. And I take responsibility for asking you to get it done so quickly. For that I apologize.”

I blinked my eyes fast to keep the tears from falling. “What should I do?” I asked miserably.

“Well, start with Nicole. Go on record with your apology. Look,” she said, leaning forward on her desk. “If you're really sorry about what you did, and you truly didn't mean any kind of malice or trickery, then people will forgive you. If they believe you, they'll forgive you.”

I nodded. Ms. Jenkins always expected more from me than from the other students, and I appreciated that. And to be honest, I was pretty scared about how I'd gotten myself into this situation, but I knew that a big part of boxing was controlling your fears—namely, the fear of getting the crap beat out of you—and doing it with dignity. I really was sorry for not telling the whole truth to the council, and I needed to make sure everyone else
knew that. I owed that not just to the council, but to the whole school.

When I left Ms. Jenkins's office, I realized that I had, once again, missed the school bus. Dad arrived ten minutes after I called him.

“Should we make this a regular date?” he asked as I pulled on my seat belt.

I couldn't even respond, the knot in my throat was so tight. I'd developed a killer headache as soon as I left Ms. Jenkins's office, and I just wanted to go home and have a moment of peace before I plunged feetfirst into figuring out how I would fix the mess I had created.

Later that night in my room, I dug out my secret stash of corn chips, eating with salty, oily fingers as I pondered the benefits of a public castigation. I finished off the whole bag, which called itself “snack size” but had about the entire daily allowance of calories. I heard the front doorbell ring as I slid my finger around the inside of the empty bag, then Dad calling my name. I licked my fingers and came to the door to find Cooper and Melanie.

“Hi,” Cooper said, and I could tell he was treading lightly. I guess that's what you do to a person who might break down or explode at any moment. “You busy?”

“I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do about everything.”

“Yeah,” Cooper said, “we figured.”

“That's why we're here,” Melanie said brightly. “To rescue you.”

I looked to Cooper. “We know you're stressed,” he explained. “And we think everyone's being so harsh on you.”

“Way harsh, Loosh,” Melanie added.

“And we knew you were probably sitting in your bedroom—”

“Stressing,” Melanie said.

“So we thought we'd come get you out of the house for a little while so you could clear your head.”

They looked at me hopefully. “You guys sure have banded together,” I noted.

“For you!” cheered Melanie.

“We promise we won't keep you out long,” Cooper said.

I stood in the doorway for a moment. “Okay.” I grabbed my jacket from the hall closet, feeling only slightly better. “Where're we going?”

We walked to the elementary school a few blocks away. Every time we passed beneath a streetlight, I
could see my breath in the cold night air. I wished I had brought my gloves.

The elementary school got a new playground last year, and it has swings that go really high. Even though we knew it was sort of babyish, there was no denying that it was fun to act like a kid sometimes.

We raced each other to the giant swing set and jumped into the seats—me, Melanie, then Cooper.

“Whoever gets the highest first, wins!” called Melanie as we all kicked off.

As we pulled ourselves higher, the cold air whooshed across my cheeks and fluttered my bangs off my forehead. I leaned far back in the seat, my hands wrapped around the cold chains, and pushed my feet out in front of me as I worked to gain more height. Nothing was so bad that I couldn't fix it, I told myself as Melanie and I passed each other, each going in exactly opposite directions.

“See?” she called as we passed each other. “Fun!”

Cooper, who swung in unison with Melanie, his baggy shirt fluttering behind him like a cape, pointed across the playground and yelled, “Seesaw!”

“Yes!” she said. “Let's make a jump for it.”

“Higher first!” hollered Cooper.

Still perfectly in sync, they counted to three, then flew out of their swings like stuntmen. Melanie dashed across the patchy grass with Cooper just behind her.

As they hopped onto the seesaw, I dragged my feet to a stop in the gravel. I couldn't hear them, but Cooper said something that made Melanie throw back her head and laugh, causing her to almost lose her hat.

I walked toward them. I sat on a chipmunk spring rider and gave it a little rock. Watching my two best friends, I finally realized that they had something that didn't include me. I always thought that I was the one that held us all together, but then I realized that maybe they didn't need me after all. Seeing them together, having so much fun, made me wish they'd never tried to cheer me up in the first place.

By the time I woke up the next morning, I was ready to announce my mistake and apologize to the whole school. Talking to Nicole was first on my list.

“Nicole,” I said to her between classes, “I'd like to talk to you on record about that vote.”

I thought there'd be a spark of excitement in her eyes about getting this scoop, but as usual, she looked unfazed. I guess as a reporter you had to stay even. “Caf at lunch?”

“How about on the edge of the athletic fields?”

“Fine.”

I'd ridden the bus to school that morning. I sat with Melanie, but something was different. I don't know if it was her or me, but there was tension in us both, and our conversation felt forced. I didn't mention the playground, and she didn't offer any insight into her and Cooper's budding (blossomed?) love affair.

While I waited for Nicole, I nibbled on some Cheese Nips I had in my coat pocket. When I saw her coming—still wearing those Tevas, even though it was freezing and the socks couldn't be helping
that
much—I tried to wipe the crumbs off my fingers on the inside of my pocket. The headache I'd been nursing pounded with new strength, and I wondered if it was from all the junk food that I'd been gorging on.

“Thanks for meeting me,” I said as Nicole and I sat down.

She took a tape recorder out of her bag and set it on the grass between us, then pushed the record button. With the red light glowing, she said, “All right. So, what've you got?”

I took a deep breath. I hadn't expected to be so nervous. “Well, uh, I just want you, and everyone else at this school, especially the other members of the student council, to know how sorry I am about the vote. It's true, I did know the research-period rule of seven days before casting a major vote, and I said nothing when I asked my council for a quick vote. So for that, I'm really sorry.”

“Fine,” Nicole said. “What else?”

What else? I wasn't sure what else I was expected to
do, so I said, “Just, you know, I'm really sorry. It won't happen again.”

“It shouldn't have happened in the first place,” Nicole said.

“I know,” I agreed. “But it was a onetime lie. Not even a lie. A not-tell. And it won't happen again.”

“Uh-huh,” Nicole muttered, as if she didn't quite believe this. “Will you step down from your presidency if the school demands it?”

I paused. I meant it when I said I was sorry, but I also felt the student body would understand that I'd made a mistake, that I was trying to fix it, and then everything would go back to being okay. They'd never paid me much attention before, so now I was sort of hoping they'd keep not doing what they hadn't been doing all along.

“I'm confident that the students will accept my honest apology, and that it won't come to that,” I said.

“If you are forced down,” Nicole persisted, “what kind of president do you think Melanie O'Hare will be?”

I felt a tightness in my chest, and the pounding in my head intensified. I didn't want to hear about Melanie as president or any sort of resignation of mine. I tried to unclench my jaw as I said, “She's not even an issue because I won't be stepping down.”

“So, you don't think the school will force you down?”

“Like I said, Nicole,” I said slowly, “I have every confidence that—”

“Lucia, everyone's angry.” Nicole's tone turned; it was more forceful, yet with a measure of pleading, like she really wanted me to listen. “You understand that, right? They don't trust you. In the halls, people are saying it's not fair that you get to bend the rules when no one else does. It's like,” she said, “cheating on a test. If you cheat on a test, you get a zero plus detention. But you cheated on something major, and people think you should be punished.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to process what she was saying, feeling desperate. “I just . . . I'm really sorry. I think I deserve a second chance. I hope that people will—”

“Are you saying you wouldn't step down even if called to?” Nicole interrupted.

I couldn't believe it. She was serious. After all the hard work I'd done for the student body, and after years of getting zero recognition for trying to do good stuff, they only took notice when I'd done something wrong.