The election

The moment Ethan left the art studio, his pulse thundered in his ears. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Liam. Faye. And Laura — of course Laura.

All of them.

Their plan wasn't just petty. It was cruel.

He didn't stop walking until he reached the courtyard, scanning the lawn for her. Then he saw her — Iva — sitting under the big sycamore tree with her earbuds in, cross-legged, highlighting something in a textbook.

So calm. So unaware.

He crossed the grass in quick strides.

"Iva," he called.

She looked up and smiled when she saw him — but it faltered the second she caught his expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked, pulling out her earbuds.

"No. You need to hear this," he said, sitting beside her. "Now."

She closed her book, fully alert.

"I overheard Liam and Faye in the art studio. They were talking about the note," he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

"It was Faye. And she wasn't acting alone. It was Laura's plan. They wanted to scare you into dropping out of the election."

Iva's face went blank for a moment, then she let out a dry laugh. "Laura. Of course."

Ethan looked at her, puzzled. "You don't seem surprised."

"I'm not. I just hoped it wasn't true," she said, more quietly now. "I've seen the way Laura works. She doesn't confront — she manipulates. I thought maybe this time she'd fight fair."

"She won't, and I already told you about it." Ethan said. "And neither will Liam. He backed everything Faye did. He agreed with it."

Iva's throat tightened. "Liam" she said softly

Ethan nodded grimly. "He said you don't belong."

She turned her gaze to the distance, blinking fast, trying to keep her emotions from showing. A sharp ache pierced her chest — not from fear, but from disappointment. She had once admired Liam from afar. She thought he stood for something… until now.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Ethan said softly. "We can report it. We can expose them."

Iva shook her head slowly. "No. That's what they want. They want me to crack. They want me to fight dirty or back down. But I'm not giving them the satisfaction."

Ethan studied her face, the fire returning to her eyes.

"I'm going to win this election," she said firmly. "And I'm going to do it my way. No secrets. No threats. No fake smiles."

Ethan smiled — proud, protective.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

She turned to him, her voice lighter. "Don't say the L-word again unless you want me floating off this bench."

He laughed, tension breaking just a little. "Got it. No 'love.' Only admiration and eternal campaign support."

"Good," she said, grinning. "Now help me build a plan. If they want war… we'll give them one. Just not the kind they expect."

The whispers had already begun.

By lunchtime the next day, the hallways buzzed with quiet curiosity. Some students had seen Ethan and Iva talking under the sycamore tree with serious faces. Others heard that Faye had skipped two of her classes. A few even claimed Liam had stormed out of the art studio looking "off."

But Iva didn't react. She didn't speak out. She didn't confront Laura. She simply adjusted.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Her first move? Clarity.

During homeroom, Iva stood up, calm but composed. With permission from the teacher, she passed around a flyer — not flashy, not loud. Just a crisp design, her campaign logo at the top and a clear headline beneath:

"Vote Smart. Vote Real. A Transparent Vision for All Students."

Then the bullet points. Straightforward. Direct. No slogans. Just action:

Reintroduce the voice of student clubs in council meetings

Mental health check-ins every term

Anonymous suggestion boxes (accessible to every grade)

A pledge: No campaign donations, no elite endorsements, just my word.

She didn't mention Laura. She didn't have to.

Her second move? Visibility.

She didn't wait for a debate stage to be seen. She walked into every club meeting that would let her sit in — theater, chess, science, track. She didn't pitch herself. She listened. She took notes. She asked questions. The effect was powerful.

"Did you see Iva in the film club meeting?" someone whispered by the lockers.

"She actually asked about our broken projector — she said she'd try to fix it even if she doesn't win," another said.

Her third move? Vulnerability.

In a video she posted on the school's social page — not edited, not filtered — she sat on the school steps and spoke from the heart:

"Some of you probably don't know me well. I'm not from money. I'm not from power.

I've been called an outsider. Maybe that's true.

But maybe an outsider is exactly what we need — someone who sees what's broken because they've lived it.

I'm not promising popularity. I'm promising effort, honesty, and transparency."

The video hit a nerve.

Comments rolled in like wildfire:

"Finally, someone who's real."

"She's not even trying to trash anyone. Respect."

"She's saying what we've all wanted to hear for years."

By the end of the day, the tide had shifted.

Even teachers started to notice. One quietly told Iva, "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

Meanwhile, across campus, Laura scrolled through the video in silence, her jaw tight. Faye hovered behind her, pale and anxious.

"She's making you look like a dictator," Faye muttered.

"No," Laura replied sharply. "She's making me look irrelevant."

And for Laura Albert, that was far worse.

The auditorium was packed.

Students filled every row, some even sitting cross-legged in the aisles. Phones were out. Cameras were ready. Everyone knew this wasn't going to be just a "student council forum" — it was going to be a show.

The moderator, a tired-looking civics teacher named Mr. Dawson, adjusted the mic.

"Welcome to this year's presidential candidate open forum. Each candidate will be asked three questions from the student body, then a chance to make one closing statement."

Laura sat poised in her seat, flawless as always. Her light-blue blazer matched her eyes, and her hair was styled in soft waves that caught the light every time she turned her head. Confidence radiated from her — but it was the carefully curated kind.

Iva sat two seats down, dressed simply in a dark-green blouse and jeans. No makeup. No jewelry. No entourage. Just a pen in her hand and a folded sheet of handwritten notes in her lap.

Liam and Faye sat in the front row, watching.

Ethan stood near the back, arms crossed.

The first question came.

"Laura, you've promised better campus events. What specific plans do you have?"

Laura leaned forward with a practiced smile. "Thank you for that. I believe in elevation — elevating school culture, prestige, and excellence. We've partnered before with influencers and event planners — I'll take that to the next level. Gala-themed fundraisers, elite internship talks, student showcases—"

Claps scattered across the room. Predictable. Polished.

Then Iva was asked.

"Iva, you've spoken about transparency. How would you ensure students' voices are heard?"

She stood — the only candidate who did — and her voice was clear, calm, and unshaken.

"I'll be honest — I can't promise glamour. I can't promise that your favorite YouTuber will visit the gym. But I can promise to listen. I've already started attending club meetings and taking notes — not because it looks good, but because I'm learning what matters to you. My plan? Monthly open council sessions. Anonymous feedback boxes in every hallway. Real conversations. Not filtered. Not hidden."

A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd.

Laura's smile faltered just a little.

By the second round of questions, the room's energy had shifted. It wasn't a coronation anymore — it was a challenge.

The final question was unexpected.

"To both candidates: What's one mistake you've made, and how did you grow from it?"

Laura hesitated.

"I've been told I can be… overconfident," she said, carefully. "But I've learned that leadership isn't just about being right. It's about being respected. I've been working on humility."

Polite claps.

Iva stepped forward, letting silence settle before she spoke.

"My mistake? Thinking I had to be silent to be safe. That I had to stay in my lane because I wasn't from the right circle. I let people intimidate me — even try to scare me. But I'm done hiding. I learned that doing the right thing will always upset the wrong people. And I'm okay with that."

Gasps rippled through the audience. Everyone knew. Without saying names, she had spoken the truth — and the truth echoed louder than any threat.

Laura's jaw clenched.

Mr. Dawson adjusted his glasses. "Final statements, please."

Laura stood, her smile stiff. "You know me. I've led before, I'll lead again. I stand for tradition and excellence."

Short. Safe. Cold.

Then Iva stepped up one last time.

"I'm not here to fit into old systems. I'm here to change them. Not for me — for all of us. Vote for whoever you want. But if you're tired of being unheard — you know what to do."

The applause wasn't scattered this time.

It was loud. It was unified. And it lasted.

Laura sat down, stunned.

Faye whispered, "She just won the room."

Liam didn't respond.

Ethan smiled quietly in the back — a flicker of pride in his eyes.

The halls were silent in a way that made every footstep echo.

Election Day had arrived. Posters hung on every wall — Laura's campaign colors sleek and metallic, Iva's hand-drawn flyers standing like quiet rebellions beside them. Everyone had voted by noon. Now, all that was left was to wait.

Iva sat under the sycamore tree, the very spot where she had learned the truth from Ethan. Her hands trembled despite her calm exterior. She wasn't scared of losing — she was scared of what it would mean if they won.

Ethan approached with two cups of iced tea. "You look like someone waiting on a medical diagnosis."

She smirked faintly. "Might as well be."

"You did everything right," he said, sitting beside her. "Whatever happens next, you didn't just run a campaign. You started something."

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed.

A message from the student council secretary:

"Announcement in the auditorium in 10."

The moment had come.

The auditorium was packed again — this time with heavier air, less noise. Even Laura seemed tenser, standing beside Liam in a tailored white blazer. Her arms were crossed tightly, her expression unreadable.

Faye sat behind them, chewing her nails.

Iva walked in slowly, greeted by quiet nods and hopeful smiles. Ethan stayed behind, watching everything — the stage, the crowd, and especially Liam.

The principal walked onstage and held up the results in a sealed envelope.

"This year's student council election has seen the highest turnout in five years. That speaks volumes about both candidates."

A hush fell over the room.

He opened the envelope.

"The student body has voted. Your new student council president is…"

Pause.

"…Iva Harrisons." He smiles

The silence broke into gasps — then an uproar. Cheers erupted from the back, followed by claps, whistles, and stunned voices. Even some of Laura's former supporters looked…relieved.

Iva stood frozen. It felt unreal. It wasn't just victory — it was vindication.

She stepped forward slowly. Took the mic.

"For everyone who believed change wasn't possible — this is for you. And to everyone who tried to silence that change — thank you for pushing me harder."

It was graceful, but it wasn't soft.

Laura's eyes were narrowed, lips tight. Liam whispered something to her, but she didn't respond.

Ethan, standing at the back, smiled.

Later, outside the building, Iva stepped away from the crowd and leaned against a tree, finally breathing.

"Iva."

She turned. It was Laura.

For a moment, neither spoke.

"You're good," Laura said finally, voice cold but begrudging. "But don't think this is over."

Iva didn't flinch. "I didn't expect it to be."

Laura's smile was razor-thin. "Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts. It always fades."

Then she walked off — heels clicking like punctuation marks.

Ethan joined her moments later.

"Let her talk," he said.

"I will," Iva replied, looking at the sky. "I've got more important things to do."