May the Best Man Win by ZR Ellor

Author:ZR Ellor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: LUKAS

Tuesday came in a tide of rainbow-bright posters, splashed out over the school’s walls. Taped onto lockers, pinned above water fountains, suspended at the top of the climbing rope in gym. Flashy stickers, twisted fonts, and photos of Jeremy and Sol in very cool black dusters and capes. Where the hell do I get myself one of those jackets? My ex probably blew three hundred bucks on the printing costs. He looks happy, though. Grinning wickedly, green eyes dancing. Like an alien visiting from some planet where everything’s okay and fine.

It’s feigned confidence. I think. From our argument after the game, I know he’s fighting tooth and nail, that he wants this crown so badly he’ll even screw over Ben to take it. He’s not one of the cis white guys who’ve swept to victory in a hundred Cresswell Homecomings; he’s not just showing up and expecting laurels. But I envy his ability to bluster in, swagger, and demand to be taken seriously. He holds himself tall like nothing can bring him down.

I’m not the only one magnetized by the photos. So’s Sol, halfway down the hall. Staring at them with something like reverence.

“You look cool,” I say.

They smile. “I look badass. And awesome. Like, I always feel so dysphoric when I look at photos of myself. But Connor’s a great photographer, and Jeremy has an awesome costume collection. I love seeing myself as a genderless computer god.”

“It’s good to have goals,” I say, my festering anger at Jeremy blacking out everything else in sight. My family splintered this weekend while he made art projects with his new friends. “I need to do something about this.” Jeremy smiled as he blew up Ben’s life. Now I’m supposed to let him claim the school walls as his territory?

“Why?” Sol says. “They’re awesome.”

“For his campaign, yeah. Not mine.” I eye them. Skeptically, this time. “You’re still on my side, right?”

“Um,” they say. “I’m your friend. But I’m not picking sides in your breakup. You and Jeremy are the only ones pushing people to do that. I know it was you who messed up the pizza giveaway, using the tip-off I gave you. You sort of used me.”

I wince. Because, yeah, I totally used them. “I’m sorry,” I say. But I have one week, three days, thirteen hours, and fifty-one minutes to stake my claim. I have to play this game on my terms, not Jeremy’s. “It won’t happen again. From now on, I’ll stick to just promoting my and Naomi’s campaign. Speaking of, you know that rolling cart people use to bring TVs into their classroom?” I say. “It lives in the computer lab, I know. Can I borrow it?”

“For what? Like, an asking or something?”

Asking Week. Naomi. Right. I’m so busy putting together my big campaign event that asking my date to Homecoming in some ostentatious fashion slipped my mind. Worse, I can’t just repurpose what I would have done for Jeremy—a weeklong scavenger hunt culminating in a massive celebration at the bonfire.

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