After their eyes unlocked and their gazes drifted elsewhere, Christian was tempted to look back again but was painfully aware that if he looked and she didn't it would be momentarily crushing. Instead he looked back to his table; to John, to Mikey, and to the girl they called Mallo. John was occasionally Christian's best friend and occasionally they wouldn't speak for months at a time. They first became friends in high school, John being somewhat of an outcast and Christian, based on his recent transfer to that school and immediate status as freshest fish in the sea of hormones and teenage invincibility, being an outcast by default meant that they were pressed together in the back of classes and had only each other to turn to. John would wear Sid Vicious shirts and claim allegiance to Cuba despite his Dutch ancestry. Christian would wear dress shirts loosely buttoned and jeans that were not designer by any stretch. The problem that each faced in high school was not so much in finding their own way, as it was getting others to follow. They both played football and basketball for the school. Both were in AP classes for language and not math or science. They were not unpopular.
During their senior year they each ran for an office in the student government. John for secretary, and Christian for treasurer. They both lost. Christian lost to someone that had only been pressured by a teacher to add her name to the ballot at the last possible minute. Her last name started with a Z. John lost to a write-in candidate who had the longest last name in the school - and it was hyphenated. She was added to the ballot the DAY OF the election. After their losses, after they had each given a five minute speech about the good they would do for the student government, after John had refused to play Yankee Doodle on the Piano for Christians walk up music, they were stunned. John more so than Christian, as he couldn't believe he possibly lost to a write-in candidate who was, by all accounts, less popular than himself.
Christian was less shocked, but decidedly more agitated. He sought out the teacher who doubled as head of the student government. She was an older lady, unmarried with bad breath and short hair that was permed and colored. They had never gotten along. He was an athlete and popular, she never had the pleasure of actually having him in class and so assumed he was used to getting special treatment. Christian demanded John follow him and they soon found her in the halls after the election results were announced.
"Show me the ballots and results." Christian was not good at hiding his designs at that point.
"Well," the overly empowered teacher replied after a moment of hesitation and sideways looks, "They are no longer around. We destroy them after each election." At that point another teacher, more sympathetic to Christian's nature came out of the teacher lounge and was accosted.
"Are the election results destroyed after every election?" Christian asked the innocent teacher, with the fire of someone who had been wronged (as a teenager) for the last time. The teacher shrugged and not wanting to upset the perm, moved along quickly.
"I personally count the ballots and then shred them as soon as I'm done," the bad breath breathed out with a look of contempt like a cherry on top.
"This is BULLSHIT!" Christian pronounced, "There is no way that you sit there and count each ballot and then shred them. You simply picked the two candidates you wanted to see win because you don't respect us. Or you don't like us. What were the percentages then? How close was it? I want a recount or a re-vote!" Christian was giving her an opening, a chance to say something that may stop this madness.
"It was very close. That is all I can say. A few votes either way would have changed it, but it's done now and there will be no recount or re-vote, as you call it. I have a class to get to and I'm sure you both do as well." The perm was impenetrable. John LaCada watched from a few feet away, anxious to not step on anyone despite his god damn Sex Pistols tee shirt and mohawk. His was a rebellion by visual deterrence.
"Fuck this," Christian said, staring at the soulless eyes that gave the perm vision. "We both know what you did. And only one of us feels bad about it." He walked away, John followed.
During their senior year they each ran for an office in the student government. John for secretary, and Christian for treasurer. They both lost. Christian lost to someone that had only been pressured by a teacher to add her name to the ballot at the last possible minute. Her last name started with a Z. John lost to a write-in candidate who had the longest last name in the school - and it was hyphenated. She was added to the ballot the DAY OF the election. After their losses, after they had each given a five minute speech about the good they would do for the student government, after John had refused to play Yankee Doodle on the Piano for Christians walk up music, they were stunned. John more so than Christian, as he couldn't believe he possibly lost to a write-in candidate who was, by all accounts, less popular than himself.
Christian was less shocked, but decidedly more agitated. He sought out the teacher who doubled as head of the student government. She was an older lady, unmarried with bad breath and short hair that was permed and colored. They had never gotten along. He was an athlete and popular, she never had the pleasure of actually having him in class and so assumed he was used to getting special treatment. Christian demanded John follow him and they soon found her in the halls after the election results were announced.
"Show me the ballots and results." Christian was not good at hiding his designs at that point.
"Well," the overly empowered teacher replied after a moment of hesitation and sideways looks, "They are no longer around. We destroy them after each election." At that point another teacher, more sympathetic to Christian's nature came out of the teacher lounge and was accosted.
"Are the election results destroyed after every election?" Christian asked the innocent teacher, with the fire of someone who had been wronged (as a teenager) for the last time. The teacher shrugged and not wanting to upset the perm, moved along quickly.
"I personally count the ballots and then shred them as soon as I'm done," the bad breath breathed out with a look of contempt like a cherry on top.
"This is BULLSHIT!" Christian pronounced, "There is no way that you sit there and count each ballot and then shred them. You simply picked the two candidates you wanted to see win because you don't respect us. Or you don't like us. What were the percentages then? How close was it? I want a recount or a re-vote!" Christian was giving her an opening, a chance to say something that may stop this madness.
"It was very close. That is all I can say. A few votes either way would have changed it, but it's done now and there will be no recount or re-vote, as you call it. I have a class to get to and I'm sure you both do as well." The perm was impenetrable. John LaCada watched from a few feet away, anxious to not step on anyone despite his god damn Sex Pistols tee shirt and mohawk. His was a rebellion by visual deterrence.
"Fuck this," Christian said, staring at the soulless eyes that gave the perm vision. "We both know what you did. And only one of us feels bad about it." He walked away, John followed.
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