Cast Your Ballot! (5 page)

At the library on Thursday, I searched the digital archive of the back issues of the
Voice
from the past two years. Anthony and John would have been mentioned only while they were students here, and since they were eighth graders now, it meant I didn't have to go back years and sift through tons of articles to find info about them.

I really love research, and I'm pretty good at it, I have to say. While I longed for the kind of well-researched files that Mr. Trigg had described the other day, I didn't mind putting together my own.

Here's what I found about each of the candidates:

• John Scott writes a lot of letters to the editor.

• Anthony Wright has won three major
chess competitions, one of them statewide, and he is a nationally ranked competitor.

• John Scott is on the debate team and is the founder and president of the Young Republicans club at school.

• Anthony is in the Model UN club.

• John's older brother went here and graduated the year before I got here.

• Anthony's mom is a nutritionist and spoke at a PTA meeting.

None of this was exactly earth-shattering, and I was a little disappointed. I'd hoped to find some juicy tidbit to run in our article—what, I don't know. It wasn't like the school newspaper printed the week's arrests or anything (not that they'd been arrested!). I guess I just have this fantasy that our school election will be as jazzy as the real ones I read about all the time, but the truth is, it isn't that jazzy.

The candidates are kids. They've never really done anything else that we could dig up info about (like held a job in a public corporation or filed
taxes), and they haven't been working toward this office for years like real candidates. All we'll know of them is what they'll tell us about themselves. It's all going to be “the message,” as the blogs call it.

I stared into space at the computer terminal and drummed my fingers on the table, wishing a bombshell would materialize in print. When it didn't, I sighed and logged off. Maybe I'd find something in my “person-on-the-street” interviews. I made a list of questions in my notebook; then I set out to do a few interviews now, just to appease my hunger for information.

The first person I nabbed at my post outside the newsroom was a sixth grader named Sara Freund, a girl in sports clothes who didn't look like she was in a rush. I asked if she'd be willing to talk on the record for attribution in the school newspaper (in other words, I'd use her name), and she agreed.

“Okay,” I began, pen poised above the paper in my notebook. “What do you think of John Scott, candidate for school president?”

“Um, I don't know him,” she said. “Sorry.”

“That's okay.” I nodded supportively. “Have you heard of him?”

“Is he the guy who's in that band that played at the talent show?” she asked, a perplexed look on her face as she tried to place him.

“No . . . that was Scott Johnson. Close!”

“Yeah, so I've never heard of John Scott.”

“Okay. How about Anthony Wright?” I asked in a chipper voice.

She shook her head again. “Sorry. I don't know him, either,” she admitted. “I guess I'm a lousy interview.”

“That's fine. I'm just getting started. Maybe you've just highlighted an interesting point. Maybe they're not that well known to underclassmen. Are you interested in the election?” I asked.

“Well, I just got to Cherry Valley, so . . . I don't really know what the issues are.”

“Okay, so the underclassmen need to be made aware of the issues,” I said, writing swiftly.

“Or maybe just I do?” she asked.

I stopped writing. “Oh. Good point. Well, I'd
better talk to some more sixth graders,” I said. “Thanks.”

The next kid I stopped was a sixth-grade boy named Henry Graham. He agreed to talk on the record, too, but hadn't heard of either of the candidates and also didn't know the issues.

“That's great! Thank you!” I said, happy to be building a theme. (
Sixth Graders Apathetic About Election!
ran the headline in my mind.) He walked away with a puzzled look on his face but I was pleased.

A seventh grader named Tim Howard stopped. He said I could quote him but not use his name. He knew Anthony Wright and said he was nice if a bit nerdy, but most of all, he was stunned that Anthony would run for office. “Anthony? The
chess
guy? For school
president
?” he kept repeating incredulously. It was pretty annoying.

I was relieved to see Kristen and her friend Pam coming toward me in the hall. “Pam! Kristen!” I waved them over. “I need some quotes about the candidates, for the paper. Can I use your names?”

“Sure,” they agreed.

Pam told me John Scott was hilarious and so fun in her language arts class. She said Anthony Wright was “quiet, but nice.”

Kristen agreed John was fun and charming, and she said she didn't know Anthony well enough to comment.

Okay, so the candidates are known to most upperclassmen, so far, I theorized.

I grabbed a few more kids, all ages, until it was time to go to my next class. And they were all the same: The sixth graders had never heard of either of them, didn't know anything about the election process or the issues. The seventh graders knew one or the other (most knew John Scott, and those who knew Anthony were surprised he was running), had a few vague ideas of the process, and knew one or two things that the school president might be interested in working on. Finally, most of the eighth graders knew both, loved John Scott, were surprised at the idea of Anthony Wright running for school president, and had a pretty decent grip on the election process and the issues facing the school (food, sports team fees, music and art
programming being cut, needing tutoring or extra help for hard classes). I was pretty impressed with the eighth graders, actually.

Obviously, I had more interviews to do, and Michael would need to do some too to make sure I tried being completely fair when I asked my questions. I mean, I try hard to be neutral (it's not like I say, “And can you
believe
that Anthony Wright is running?”), but you have to be so careful in the way you ask questions, so I just need to remember that and address it.

The article was starting to take shape in my mind—the intro at least. Uninterested sixth graders, voting solely on what the candidates tell them. Eighth graders clearly preferring one candidate over the other, on reputation alone. And seventh graders undecided, with some knowing a candidate personally and some not. I couldn't wait for my interviews to pull this whole thing together in my mind and then on paper.

At lunch Friday I secured two seats in a quiet area, leaving my messenger bag and jean jacket
on them to save them while I got my lunch. I went to get a sandwich and look for John Scott. He was about ten minutes late, which actually was a little annoying but worked out to my advantage since I'd finished eating and could concentrate on the interview while he ate. I did make a little note of it though; lateness can reveal a person's character in many ways.

When John arrived, he got his food and joined me at the table, with a brief apology about his tardiness.

“Samantha Martone!” he began with a friendly grin. “It's an honor to be interviewed by a journalist of your caliber.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I can't believe you're interviewing me!” John said. “After reading your articles in every issue—the Pay to Play article was awesome, the school lunch article intense, and I loved the coverage last year on the new curriculum—I always feel I have my finger on the pulse. You're always on the front page and always hitting the most important issues. I could take my campaign plan
straight from your articles in the
Cherry Valley Voice
! And the writing! So good.” He shook his head admiringly.

“Wow. Thanks! I'm flattered,” I said, a tiny blush reddening my cheeks. “I can't believe you read all that.”

“Well . . .” John stopped to find a fresh napkin on the table and spied my notebook. “Wait. You use a notebook?”

Surprised, I looked down at my trusty brown notebook. “Uhhh . . . yeah?” What was wrong with it? It looked okay to me.

John shook his head sadly. “Samantha—one of the first things I will do if elected school president is make certain everyone on the
Cherry Valley Voice
staff receives state-of-the-art iPads. How can you do your best work if you're not using the best equipment?”

“Really? Wow. That would be awesome!” I said excitedly, thinking how cool it would be to tote around an iPad for my articles. It would make things so much easier: online research, editing drafts, sharing with Michael. Not that
I'd ever had many problems with my notebook before, but still.

I glanced at my list of questions about John's background and qualifications; then I decided to just go with the flow of the conversation. “So, what else would you do if you were elected school president?” I asked, uncapping my pen and poising it above the page.

John brightened, and he pushed his tray away and folded his hands earnestly on the table in front of him. “Well, first of all, extra-long lunch breaks . . . How can the teachers expect us to work if we're not properly rested? Next, less homework—it's a proven fact that stress is not healthy for
anyone
, and homework adds a lot of stress to a student's life. Third, more extracurriculars. Like, why don't we have film class? That would be so cool. Fourth . . .”

John outlined about ten great ideas while I nodded along and scribbled quickly to get it all down on paper before our hour was up. I could see what John envisioned for our school, and it was exciting. School life would be much better with John Scott at the helm! Plus, his delivery
was amazing—I was objective enough to see that, though I actually had to fight myself from becoming totally charmed by his friendly voice, his sense of humor, and his enthusiasm.

After he outlined his plan, I asked him a couple of questions about his background, including about his family.

John was ready for this, too. “Well, I'm from a very small, tight-knit family: just me, my parents, and my older brother. We spend a lot of time together, and my brother and I are kind of our parents' life: They never miss a game or a debate; they quiz us at the table on current events; they drive us to all our lessons and stuff. We get along very well,” he said proudly. “Also, I don't know if you've heard this story, but it's something I'm very proud of. I saved a little girl from drowning at the town lake two summers ago . . .”

“So, that
was
you!”

He nodded proudly. “Yup.” He filled me in on the details, which were exciting but basically amounted to him yanking her out of the water before anything really bad happened and calling
911 on his brother's phone. Still, he did think fast. He finished the story by patting his heart. “Anna and I are still very close.”

“Wow. What a wonderful story!” I said. “And your qualifications?”

John nodded, like he had practiced for this question. “I've written a great deal to the
Voice
about my positions on things in the news here. If you scroll through the back issues, you'll see I've basically gone on record on all of the major things facing this school. I'm on the debate team, so I know how to stand up for what I believe in and I'm good at public speaking, which is an important part of being school president. I'm very engaged in politics in the larger world and always follow elections closely.” He held his hands out to me like he was offering me something and grinned. “I'm an open book! No secrets!” he said.

I chuckled. “I wasn't worried you'd have secrets,” I said. “This all pretty much lines up with what I already knew about you,” I said.

“Oho! What did you already know?” he asked teasingly.

“Just good stuff, I swear,” I said, smiling down into my notebook. He was very charming.

“I sure hope so!” He laughed. “Otherwise I'll have to work hard for your vote!”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that,” I said, but then I stopped, remembering I was supposed to be objective.

“Maybe you'd like to be my running mate, then,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Wait, what?”

“Do you want to?”

I was confused. “Do I want to be your
running mate
?”

He nodded.

I was flustered, like he'd suddenly asked me out on a date. I didn't know what to say. Me? Vice president of the school? It was a thrill to even consider it. Especially because John would probably win. I was flustered. “Uh, well . . . I've never really considered running for anything before. This is a little, uh, spontaneous. Are you serious?” I really didn't know what to say. I was confused, surprised, caught off guard. Like, had
he seriously just asked me to be his running mate? It was a little weird but also a little flattering. More than a little flattering.