My Perfect Life by Dyan Sheldon

Author:Dyan Sheldon [Sheldon, Dyan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406339222
Publisher: Walker Books Ltd
Published: 2011-07-07T04:00:00+00:00

Doing what you must

Except for Morty Slinger, whose campaign tactics couldn’t have been more laid back without the danger of putting himself to sleep, after the Showdown at Dripping Sink and the Flinging-down of the Gauntlet, we all threw ourselves into the battle with the zeal of kamikaze pilots.

There was nothing Carla did that we could top. Carla served hand-baked cookies and designer soft drinks at her after-school gatherings; we countered with organic juice and potato chips. Carla brought her portable CD player in and provided music for her admirers; we brought in Sam’s old ghettoblaster and played better music but with inferior sound quality. (Morty kept his door shut. He’d turned his headquarters into a computer workshop, filled with science geeks and gameheads who didn’t like to be disturbed.)

And, predictably, there was nothing we did that Carla didn’t top.

Carla’s new batch of posters picked up where ours left off. Each featured a picture of Carla doing something wonderful – accepting an award from the Chamber of Commerce, pushing an old lady in a wheelchair, picking up beer cans along a highway – and, tucked off to one side, a photograph of either me, Sam, or even Lola doing something far less wonderful (brushing grass off my skirt, picking his nose, and flapping her shawl, respectively).

We had a rally in the gym one afternoon, attended by such a modest number of supporters looking for food that I not only read my speech without any trouble, but received a round of applause as well (not all of it from Lola). The next day at lunch the cafeteria was overtaken by varsity cheerleaders screaming, “Give me a C! Give me an A! Give me an R! Give me an L! Give me an A! What’s that spell? What’s that spell?”

I left the house early every morning so I’d get to school in time to greet potential voters as they arrived. I returned late because, though Sam had to work, Lola and I spent most of each afternoon trying to entice people into our room to drum up support. After supper, Lola and I had long phone calls preparing me for the debate. All other time that wasn’t spent eating, sleeping, or doing homework, was spent in coming up with ways to make the students of Dellwood High feel that they were a part of a larger world without volunteering them all for the Peace Corps. We would raise money for worthwhile causes; we would adopt a family at Christmas; we would sponsor an exchange student from an underdeveloped country; we would organize volunteers to help junior high students with reading and maths.

Despite the fact that every major campus personality – members of the football teams, the basketball teams, the cheerleaders, and just about anyone else whose yearbook caption would include “sure to succeed” – was backing Carla, by the end of the first week of campaigning (or Round One, as Sam called it), Lola was convinced – either from her creative intuition or from counting badges, I wasn’t sure which – that Carla and I were neck and neck.

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