Mickie Kennedy. My anger swelled. It would be just like this newcomer to tank my candidacy. She’d stolen Ernie. Now she intended to steal my chance at glory.
But to my surprise, Mickie said, “I second the nomination.”
This was a clear breach of the election protocol, there being no need to second the nomination. Then Mickie blurted even louder, “And I say we vote.”
Valerie Johnson quickly raised her hand, and the hands of the others in her entourage followed. The boys also raised their hands, Ernie being the last to do so and looking reluctant.
“Congratulations, Sam,” Sister Mary Williams said.
It might have been the happiest moment of my short life, next to the day my father drove up the driveway with the red Schwinn bicycle. I only hoped for a better ending.
10
At recess Ernie quickly chased me down. “Sam. Sam!”
“What’s wrong?” I said. “Why didn’t you want to vote for me?”
Ernie hesitated. “They want you to fail, Sam. I saw Valerie Johnson whispering to Mary Beth to nominate you. I think they want you to freeze like Anna Louise Gretsky so they can make fun of you.”
“What? How do you know that? Did you hear her?”
Ernie shook his head. “But it’s Valerie Johnson,” he said. “Why would she nominate you?”
“She didn’t. It was Mary Beth—”
“Valerie told her to nominate you, Sam.”
I ignored this well-reasoned rationale because I wanted the position. “So why shouldn’t I be lector? I’m the best student in the class.”
“You should turn it down, Sam. Just tell Sister you can’t do it.”
“No,” I said emphatically.
“What if something happens?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. They do something to embarrass you, and you screw up.”
“I’m not going to screw up,” I said.
As recess was coming to an end, I found myself walking back to class beside Mickie. With Ernie’s admonition fresh on my mind, I asked her, “Why’d you nominate me?”
“Don’t get a swollen head, Hill,” she said. “You’re a brain; you should be the lector. Better you than that airhead Valerie Johnson or one of her stupid friends.” Then Mickie punched me on the arm and ran off to the classroom at the sound of the bell.
11
After school I raced home, dropped my bike on the lawn, and rushed through the front door. “Mom? Mom!”
“Samuel Hill.” My mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What have I told you about bellowing my name like a banshee?”
“I got it,” I said. “A girl in my class nominated me and Mickie seconded it and the vote was unanimous, every kid.”
“Slow down,” my mother said. “Start over. You got what?”
“Lector. At the all-school Mass on Friday. I got it.”
My mother did not, however, whoop for joy or immediately embrace me as I had expected. “They elected you?”
“Yeah. It was unanimous.”
“Samuel,” my mother said, still somewhat solemn.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am,” my mother said, forcing a smile. Then she hugged me. “Oh, Samuel, I am happy and I’m proud of you. That is a great honor. Won’t your father be proud.”