Checkmate

25| Milkshake and war tactics

We decide on Virginia's diner for our campaign meeting. It's one of the only diners in Archbury that serves decent chili cheese fries, but that's not why it's my favorite. Every Sunday morning, Dad would take Mom and me out for pancakes and waffles, and he'd let me pick a song on the jukebox. Our weekend breakfasts' stopped when Mom became Mayor, but even now, I still get that thump of excitement whenever I walk in.

I get there early and find a booth by the window, laying my paper and pens on the table. After placing a pen by each seat, I order a vanilla milkshake, open my campaign book, and patiently wait for the others to show. I flick through the Debate section, skimming the notes I'd made last year. Of course, I'd planned this debate long before now, but that was using my old speech. Just like everything else in this book, I will have to rewrite it.

The longer I wait, the harder it is not to obsess over the attacks Chase could hit me with at any moment. Not only does he hate my guts, but he also hates Blake's, which means sooner or later, he'll pull something out that will unravel this campaign; it's only a matter of time.

Thankfully, this is the one place I'd never thought to bring him. He hates diners or anywhere that's not a Michelin star restaurant, so at least I don't have to look at this decor and have it tainted by his memory. I get to my feet, cross the room to the old jukebox standing proudly in the corner, and choose My Girl by the Temptations while I wait – Dad's favorite.

The clock on the wall hits three past five, which means Blake and his friends are officially late. I tap my nails impatiently on the table, unsure why I feel so nervous. Maybe because I haven't spent much time with Blake's friends outside of school or his basement. Maybe because ever since my kiss with Blake, it's been impossible not to want to kiss him again.

I slurp down the last of my milkshake and order another. My skin starts to prickle, and I wonder if they're standing me up when the diner door swings open. Liv walks in first, followed by Freddie and a not-so-enthusiastic Kenny, but no Blake. My heart sinks. The trio scans the diner, spots me by the window, and trails down the aisle to our table. I scoot toward the window as Liv slips beside me while the two boys sit opposite.

"Hey," Liv says, picking up the menu. "I'm starving. Ooh, hot dogs."

Freddie elbows Kenny and tells him to move up before dissecting the menu. "Do I want a burger or ribs? To burger or not to burger, that is the question."

"Oh, jeez," Kenny says with a shoulder-heaving sigh. "We both know you'll get the burger. You always get the burger."

Freddie wiggles his eyebrows. "I might switch it up today; you don't know."

"Get the chicken sharing platter," Liv says, pointing it out on the menu. "I'll take a few wings off your hands."

Freddie spends several long seconds making 'hmm' sounds. "Nah, I think I'm gonna go with the burger."

Kenny looks Liv dead in the eye. "I'm going to kill him."

"You know," Freddie says, placing down his menu, "you're pretty dramatic for an introvert."

"What does that even mean?" Kenny asks. "Introverts can't be dramatic?"

"I thought you were all supposed to go around all shy and shit."

Kenny looks at Liv again. "Liv, explain it to him before I kick him."

Liv sighs and leans forward. "Just because someone is an introvert doesn't mean they're shy. It means they can only take a few hours of socialization before needing some alone time. You can be shy but be an extrovert, or you can be confident but be an introvert. You can also be a shy introvert."