In registration the next morning I ticked the box next to Meabh’s name, walked over to the folding table Ms. Devlin had set up, and dropped it in the slot of a shoebox. It wasn’t very ceremonious. Meabh was hovering near the tables, trying to crane her neck and see who voted for her. She narrowed her eyes at people giving her dirty looks and I had to pull her away and remind her that they were not giving her those looks because they didn’t vote for her but because she was crawling up their ass and making them uncomfortable. I caught Holly’s eye a couple of times. Her eyes were puffy and red and seeing that made me want to cry again, so I stopped looking. I was relieved when the bell rang.
I squeezed Meabh’s hand as she went off to physics and tried to calm the butterflies. In my head I counted all the people last night who’d said they’d vote for Meabh. Then I tried to count all the ones who I thought had meant it. I texted the others and asked them how many they thought were going to vote for Meabh. They sent me back variations on the theme of I don’t know or in Angela’s case, Stop asking me this, I’m not bloody psychic.
Meabh was too nervous to eat lunch so Kavi and I sat on the steps in front of the entrance and ate his father’s homemade bacon and egg muffins while Meabh paced up and down. I’d suggested behind the prefab for lunch but Meabh argued she wouldn’t hear the announcement from there.
“They’re not going to broadcast it over the speakers,” I said.
Meabh shrugged, a tense jerky shrug. She was too wound up even to speak.
Ten minutes before the end of break, Ms. Devlin walked out of the doors.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” she said to Meabh. “Come with me.”
Meabh looked stricken. It didn’t stop her from shooting me an I-told-you-so stare, which I took to mean if we’d been behind the prefab, Ms. Devlin wouldn’t have found us there. Kavi and I scrambled up and Ms. Devlin shot us a look.
“I don’t need you two.”
“That’s okay, we don’t mind,” I said.
“You have class in a few minutes,” she said firmly.
I held my hands up and fell back. When Meabh looked for me over her shoulder, I mouthed, We’re right behind you.
We followed ten steps behind the whole way and when we arrived at Ms. Devlin’s office, I could see that Holly was already inside. Ms. Devlin started when she saw us.
“I thought I said you had class,” she snapped.
“Yeaaah,” I said, like it was obvious. “We’re on our way there now.”
“There are no classrooms over here except mine.”
Kavi and I exchanged a glance.
“Huh . . . weird.”
Then she sighed and, deciding to ignore us, guided Meabh into her office. Kavi and I pressed our ears against the door.
“Like old times,” he whispered.
“It was two weeks ago.”
“Old times.” He smiled wistfully.
Ms. Devlin’s clipped PE voice carried through the door. I could tell she was trying to temper any heightened emotions with her no-nonsense attitude.
“I wanted to let you both know the result before we announce it. You’ve both done exceptionally well and it was very close. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse, but only eighteen votes separated you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Holly, you will be the next student council president.”
I didn’t want to open my eyes but I could hear shuffling and footsteps that told me if I didn’t move I was going to get a door to the face.
Kavi, Meabh, and I sat up on the balcony. Meabh pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She’d discarded the boot across the room and she didn’t even limp when she wasn’t wearing it. I waited until she was ready to speak.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she said. “I worked so hard and I did everything I could and it came down to people not liking me.”
“It came down to eighteen votes. Out of four hundred,” Kavi pointed out.
“It should have been a landslide. I was the better candidate. I could have done so much good.”
“I know you. You still will. You won’t let a silly thing like losing get in the way,” I said.
She burst into tears.
“What is it?” I asked, alarmed. “Should I not have mentioned the L-word?”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head. “It’s that you’re right. I will still try and do it all even though I’m not the president.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m so fucking tired,” she sobbed. She cried for a few more moments. Kavi rubbed her back, and I held her hand. Then she sucked in a huge breath and wiped her eyes with her free hand. She looked at me with a guilty expression. “When Ms. Devlin said that I didn’t win, a tiny part of me was glad. I thought, Thank God, I already have too much to do. And then I felt the whole weight of it all crashing back down on top of me. My foot is healed. Dad’s going to expect me to go back to camogie. Mam’s going to want me to go back to yoga. To ‘relax.’ I have a cello recital in six weeks. And . . . and I was hoping I’d get to spend some time with you.”
I gave myself a second to let that all wash over me.
“Maybe you should focus on your own problems for a while instead of fixing the whole world,” I said. “You should talk to your dad.”
“He won’t understand.”
I thought about how he looked at her like she was sent straight from heaven to make his life worth living.
“I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re so afraid of disappointing him. But the worst thing that can happen is he’s disappointed. He’ll get over it. You broke your own ankle. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Hah.” Meabh laughed bitterly. “I guess. What if he looks at me differently, though? What if he doesn’t understand?”
“Then we’ll figure something out from there. Between the three of us we’ll work something out.”
“But then I’m letting everyone down who would benefit from my ideas.” She seemed genuinely distraught at the thought.
“That’s one way to look at it.” I smothered a smile. “Or perhaps we’re not the only people in the world who can do things. We’ve done stuff. We’ve already helped people. But before we tackle the rest of the world, I think we need to sort out our own shit.”
“We?” she asked.
“Yeah. Me too. My life’s a disaster. I’m running around fixing other people’s problems, and that’s not a bad thing, but my own life is on fire. I’m failing every class. And . . .” I hesitated. If I said this part out loud, there would be no taking it back. “And my mam is drinking again. If I tell anyone there’ll be a social worker at my door before I know it and I don’t know what will happen then.”
I watched Meabh and Kavi take in what I’d said. I saw the pieces click into place for Kavi. Meabh nodded slowly. I held my breath and for a second all I could hear was my heart beating. All I could feel was fear that I’d said too much.
“Then we’ll figure something out from there,” Meabh said firmly.
Kavi nodded, and he reached over Meabh and squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll be here, whatever happens.”
We sat together for a few minutes. And then Holly appeared on the balcony. She looked young and vulnerable and I felt like I had too much power in this space, with my friends. But it wasn’t me she wanted to talk to.
“Meabh?” Holly’s voice was so small.
Ever the professional, Meabh stood up, in one shoe and one socked foot.
“Congratulations, Holly. I should have said so before.”
“I don’t deserve it,” Holly replied, and she didn’t wait for a response. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted to work together. Share the seat?”
I don’t know who was more stunned. Me or Meabh.
“Holy shit,” Kavi said.
Meabh looked back at us. I shrugged.
“Thanks for the offer, Holly,” Meabh said, “but I think I’m going to have to say no.”
I asked Meabh and Kavi to meet me at the end of the day. I didn’t want to go home and talk myself out of it.
Meabh squeezed my hand. “I can come in if you want.”
I shook my head. “If you come in, then I’ll just let you do the talking.”
“We’ll be right here,” she said, and they both slid down the wall outside Ms. Devlin’s office and sat.
“You can listen at the door if you want,” I offered.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Why would we do that? That’s weird.”
“Hah, yeah. Just kidding.”
Kavi and I exchanged a look. I knocked on the door and I swallowed hard to stop from throwing up.
“Come in,” Ms. Devlin said. She was marking papers and she seemed surprised to see that it was me. “What now? Have you come down with a case of . . . of . . .” She waved her hands, reaching for an obscure illness.
“Flubberygiblets?” I supplied.
“That’s not a real one,” she said, pointing her pen threateningly at me. “It better not say that on your next note. There’s only so much I can take, Aideen.”
“It’s not that, miss,” I said.
“Well, what is it, then?” She looked at me, her face expectant, open.
Did I trust her?
I sat down in the chair opposite her and said what I had to say.
“I need help.”
