Winner Takes All by Jenny Santana Page A

their potential falling for each other had been all her own fault! She pulled her hand away from Mari and faced the courts, beginning to walk, then jog, then flat-out run from where Mari stood. When Celia was far enough away that she knew Mari couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes, she turned back around, a huge smile bravely plastered on her face, and yelled back, “Let’s go! Game on!” By the time Mari caught up to her, Celia’seyes were dry and ready to focus on the only thing that mattered to her now: winning the election.
    Laz looked even cuter on the court than he did in school—something about the way the asphalt brought out his dark eyes—but Celia told herself she didn’t notice. Mari, however, let out a little gasp when they first turned into the courts and saw him there, standing under the hoop with a basketball tucked under his arm. Laz waved at them both, and Mari hustled over, suddenly calm and poised. No wonder she was always getting the big parts in the school plays, Celia thought.
    Determined to keep her focus on the game as a campaign tactic (and not as an opportunity to swoon over a boy she was suddenly trying really hard not to like anymore), Celia wandered into the crowd, away from where Mari had just swooped in on Laz and the game. As the basketball thumped against the pavement once again, Celia searched the bleachers for influential seventh graders. She’d been right about the twins being there: Ricky and Claudia sat next to each other, sipping from plastic water bottles and eating plantain chips from a bag perched between them on the bench. But maybe they’d planned on coming to the park before Laz’s lunch announcement theday before. They were both sort of considered jocks in school—not at all part of the nerd clique: She only knew them because their mom was a childhood friend of her own mom.
    Celia recognized a few other seventh graders: Luz Rojas, a girl from the soccer team was there, also drinking from a water bottle and decked out in full soccer gear. Maybe she was just taking a break from her own game, possibly happening on one of the park’s other fields. Mike and Henry, two boys with popularity similar to Laz’s, sat on the very top bench, looking like they thought they ruled the crowd. Henry elbowed Mike and Mike elbowed him back. Then Henry shoved Mike away and then Mike shoved Henry back. Celia didn’t even bother trying to decipher their cool-guy communication.
    Though she didn’t know everyone by name, she recognized a lot of faces. There was no Yvette and the Six-Pack, and there was no one from drama there either, which didn’t surprise her since they tended to be scared of sports in general. Celia couldn’t spot a single nerd—she was almost sad to realize she was the only one there. But she knew an opportunity when she saw one: These were not voters she could normally reach—and Laz’s event had put them right in her hands.As Celia surveyed the crowd, she made a mental note to sit next to each of them at some point that afternoon and talk up Mari.
    One face that Celia expected to see was missing: Raul’s. Celia scanned the bleachers three times before almost deciding he wasn’t there. But then she spotted him back by the weathered gray picnic benches underneath the park’s barbecue pavilion, just off to the side of the courts. He was standing guard by two big blue coolers, with a clipboard and pen in his hands. It was time for some real reconnaissance, she decided, so she wandered his way as casually as she could.
    “Hey, Raul,” she said with too much enthusiasm. “Whatcha doing way over here? Not a basketball fan?”
    “I like it fine,” he said as he scribbled. “I’m just busy is all.”
    She slid toward him, trying to catch a peek at the papers on the clipboard, and said, “Busy doing what?”
    He pulled the clipboard to his chest and tucked the pen he’d been writing with behind his ear. Celia noticed that he had the same kind of kinky