Checkmate

37| B-word

Sunday's moping means that by the time Monday comes, I'm ready to follow Liv's advice. I sit up in bed, spending the next few minutes scrolling through Chase's social media. At the moment, it seems the video he sent was reserved just for us, but it's only a matter of time before he feels I'm not embarrassed enough and shows the entire school; I'm just thankful today is not that day.

As I get ready, I can't help but go over today's schedule in my head. Usually, the last few days of campaigning are supposed to be the nice part: the hard work is over, and the candidates can enjoy the fruits of their labor before the election.

For me, though, this part feels like torture. There isn't much to focus on – no grand campaign ideas, no handing out flyers, or shmoozing for more votes, which means the only thing occupying my mind right now is Blake.

It's customary in the few days before the campaign to liaise with your Campain Captain, and putting on a united front is more important now than ever, but the thought of meeting Blake terrifies me. It's not that I plan to ignore him forever, but I want to talk to him when I'm ready, on my terms, and right now, I'm not.

As if on cue, Liv and the others send me some encouragement through the group chat, which Blake is still part of but as silent as always. I send them a few emojis back to convince them I'm raring to go, but the truth is, I just want this day to be over.

Breakfast is a quiet affair. A perfectly cooked omelet awaits me on the table, and as I sit down, straightening out the ruffles of my collar, Mom barely looks up from her coffee. It's just us this morning – Dad left early for work, no doubt to avoid any confrontations, which means it's just me, her, and all the things we left unsaid.

"Election Day is Wednesday, right?"

I look up from my breakfast to check whether she's really talking to me. Her eyes are on her paper, but her body has tensed like she's acutely aware of my presence. "Yeah, it is."

"And what are your plans for the next few days?"

I don't answer right away. What my mother is really asking is how much involvement I plan to have with Blake in the days leading up to the election, but the truth is, I haven't decided. "The days before the election is usually calm," I say evenly. "There isn't much left to do, but I'll have to liaise with Blake and put on a united front so as not to jeopardize the campaign."

She looks up, and I give her this look as if to say, As mayor, you know this better than anyone. "And after the campaign?" she asks. "If you win, you and Blake will be expected to continue working together during your presidency."

It feels strange to hear the words after the campaign. I've been so focused on getting through the campaign that I haven't thought about what life will be like after election day. Win or lose, nothing will be the same.

"I doubt he'll want to continue on my council," I say. "He only agreed to help me in the first place out of–" I'm about to say something about money, but my mother doesn't know that part yet; I'd like to keep it that way, "–pity."

It's hard to miss the look of relief that crosses her face. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Blake–"

"But you are," I say, looking up. "That's exactly what you're saying."

She sighs and puts her paper down before leaning toward me. "Rose, there are certain people that I ask you to stay away from because I know how quickly things can unravel. New friendships and peer pressure are the biggest leading factors in how seemingly good children go down the wrong path. As Mayor, I've seen it happen to countless children I've met. I will never let that happen to you."