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IT'S WEDNESDAY,
my first day back from my sentence.

The bus slows to a stop in front of my driveway like a cranky old lady—wheezing, groaning, creaking, and generally making me feel like I'm making its day a little harder. I step on board and the bus charges off, and I almost take a tumble into Tamberlin Ziff, who screams loudly and then enjoys all the eyes on her.

“Sorry,” I mumble, although she's not really the one I need to apologize to. That person's sitting in a seat alone, about seven rows back.

But as I get closer, Brynne gives me a quick look. Then her face hardens and she lifts her backpack from the floor, placing it on the empty part of the seat next to her. I stop at her row.

“Brynne?”

She doesn't look at me.

“Brynne,” I say a little louder.

She glances up at me again, with the same hard look. Then I realize she's listening to an iPod. She turns up the volume and looks away.

“Sit down!” the driver yells in the same voice she used to use on the barkers. I find an empty seat. And then I'm back to reading
Car and Driver
over the shoulder of Little Kid. It may not be a glory seat, but it's actually strangely comfortable. One little piece of my old life is back.

I go to my locker and look around. Maria, who's standing less than a foot away from me at her own locker, doesn't even glance in my direction. “Hi,” I say to her.

“Hi,” she bleats, avoiding my eyes.

I smell my armpit just in case. It would almost be a relief to reek and have something to blame everything on, other than my own stupid self, but all I smell is the shower-fresh scent of Teen Spirit.

And then I see Mandy. Our eyes meet, and she freezes like she's in a bit of a panic. I refuse to let her get away, and luckily she's petrified by shock and the awkwardness of the situation.

“Hi,” I say. I smile. Not too confidently, since I have to show that I'm humble.

“Hi.” She smiles back. It's a little shaky, but it's still a smile.

All around us, people are rushing by, greeting her as they do.

So I just say, “I want to help on the campaign.”

She laughs a little. “Well, elections are two days away.”

“I know. I'm sorry I haven't been around for a while.” My words sound too lame for how I really feel, so I say, “I'm just sorry about everything, period.”

“Yeah, well…” She shrugs. She looks down at her shoes. They're clogs. “Well, if you hadn't made me run for president, I never would have done it.” She looks back up at me.

I smile. I miss her so much, clogs and all. And
yes
, she
is
the kind of person who can pull it off.

“Can I come back to the Bored Game Club?”

She gets kind of squirmy. “I don't know. Probably not today, okay? Let me talk to Phoebe and Joey first. Half the school's been coming to the club, so we've been pretty swamped.” But she looks at me sympathetically. That's the thing about Mandy. She may play at being tough, but at heart she's like Wonder bread. “But soon, okay?”

I reach forward to hug her. She stumbles backward a bit and then leans in for a squeeze. When I let go, she gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Okay, I'll see you soon. And by the way?”

“Yes?”

“Nice hair.” She smiles. “I mean it.”

“YOU KNOW,”
I hear a voice say on Thursday morning. A nice voice. A voice that makes my insides feel especially warm and gooey. “You can always vote for me.”

I look up from my locker. It's Caleb and we're alone and I've forgotten how to breathe. I wonder where his entourage is, but I can't ask since I've also forgotten how to speak.

He gives me a slow smile. So slow it's like slow motion. Or maybe that's just how it seems to me since I seem to be savoring it the same way I savor white chocolate truffles. Then he walks away, and I realize that my upper lip has broken out into a sweat. Since when is this even possible? I dab my lip with my sleeve and for the duration of exactly one (very powerful) heartbeat, I find myself thinking that maybe I
will
vote for him.

But of course I come to my senses.

Because thirty seconds later, I sense a presence behind me. I turn around. It's Delia. She gives me a little smile and says hi.

“Hi!” I'm way too excited to see her.

“I'll save you a spot at lunch today, okay?”

I become aware of the fact that my mouth is hanging open and that my eyes are dry from not blinking. “Really?” I ask.

“Seriously, Liv,” Delia says. “Where would we be without you?”

She kind of laughs a little and walks away, and I feel weird and light and like smiling or singing. It's so strange to me, this feeling, that I forget that there's a word for it.
Happy
.

Delia's straddled her butt across two seat circles, so when I tap her on the shoulder she looks up and scoots over. “Thanks,” I say to her. “Hi,” I say to everyone else. And I do mean “everyone else” because there's not only Phoebe and Joey and Mandy, but a couple of others, like Brant and Erin Monroe and even Morgan Askren. And of course Peyton Randall. Who have all obviously been prepped for—and have probably been forced to approve—my presence. It makes me a little angry, since I was there way before any of them, but I brush it off. I've got my friends back, and that matters more than anything else right now.

Delia offers me a Tater Tot, which I take out of appreciation, although I'm too nervous to taste.

I wait for everyone to talk. They're way too quiet, and it's making me aware of my chewing noises. I'm actually secretly hoping that Joey will burp or fart or pick his nose, but he's turned into Mr. Manners.

Phoebe gives me a prim smile when I look at her, like it's a little painful to do even though she's been doing a lot more smiling lately. And laughing too. I mean, I've seen her in the hallways and watched her across the cafeteria. Mandy is eyeing my pizza, so I hold it out to her. She smiles at me, rips off the pepperonis, and pops them into her mouth. And when Peyton crinkles up her snooty little nose and says to her, “When did you start eating nitrites?” and Mandy looks over at me and rolls her eyes, I feel tons better.

“Will you read my speech?” Mandy asks me after lunch.

“Uh,
yeah
,” I say, since it's the most ridiculous question ever. “I'd love to.”

She hands me a stapled stack of paper and gives me a nervous smile. “I can't believe it's tomorrow.”

“I really think you're going to win.”

“What about Caleb?” she asks, looking a little pained. “People
love
him.”

“Yeah, but they love you more,” I say. “Come on, didn't I hear that the Bored Game Club has gotten so packed that the school's going to host a Pictionary-thon in the spring? And that two girls got detention for a fight they had over a Chuck E. Cheese coin?”

She nods. “Yeah, we were trying to play Monopoly, but they both wanted to use it for their game piece.”

“See?” I smile at her even though I still feel a little unsteady about it all. It's not Supercandidate Caleb I'm worried about—it's Brynne. Obviously, she's not going to win, but there are still things like rafters to be concerned about, and things that could be rigged to fall from them and onto people on the stage, like, say, Mandy.

But maybe,
hopefully
, I'm just being paranoid. Honestly, the only thing Brynne's been guilty of lately is ignoring me completely. In fact, I hardly even see her. She eats lunch in the library, and she's moved seats away from me in class. I'm sure she would have already given up on the campaign if she didn't desperately need that extra credit. To be honest, it's actually pretty understandable that she wants nothing to do with me. I don't even think I can blame her. I might as well just deal with it.

And anyway, I've also learned that because of past incidents, the ballots will be strictly controlled by Mrs. Vander-Pecker, and that the stage will be well secured before and during the speeches. I've also made Mandy promise to check all doors and hallways before entering them, and to walk with a buddy, even if that buddy is Dawn Lane. She keeps telling me to relax. I'm trying.

I read the speech and it's good. It's great, in fact. It nearly erases my worries. In it, Mandy talks about how we're all entitled to our little piece of power. Even
I
felt wonderful and valuable after reading her speech. And not only that, but she's promising to ban the things that we all hate, like family-life education and especially Sleeterball.

That night, I call her and tell her that if I wasn't already sold, this would sell me. She seems happy to hear it.

And then I tell myself that it's too late for anything to mess this up. And I find it almost believable.

Almost.