Winner Takes All by Jenny Santana Page B

curly hair as she did, but since he kept it shaved short, she hadn’t ever realized that they had this in common. His hair was muchdarker, though—almost black—and his eyes were lighter than hers, a shade of brown so clear and bright that she wanted to call it hazel, maybe even green.
    “It’s none of your business,” he said. “But seeing as you were this close to being Laz’s campaign manager, I guess I can tell you.”
    So Raul knew that Laz had asked her and that she’d said no. Interesting , Celia thought. But the fact that Raul was filling her in on what might be a campaign secret meant that he and Laz didn’t see her as part of the competition. Perhaps Laz had been more distracted by the news of Mari’s hypothetical crush than she thought. Maybe making Laz think Mari liked him (and vice versa) would end up working out, diverting attention away from Celia. So what if it meant the end of her crush? Hadn’t her mom told her a million stories about all the crushes she’d had when she was a girl, and how none of them had ever panned out? Celia’s mom didn’t even like Celia’s dad when they met—she’d thought he was stuck-up because he refused to dance with anyone at the party where she first saw him—and hadn’t they been happily married for more than a dozen years now? Celia tried to focus on Raul’s words, making herself ignore the sinking feeling around her heart.
    “I’m just keeping track of who’s here, how long they hang out for, how they seem to feel about Laz, and whether or not they take one of these.” Raul fished around in one of the coolers and brought up a nearly frozen bottle of water. Over the regular label, there was a sticker that read LAZ IS YOUR REP but the ink was smudged and the label was peeling off. In fact, most of the labels were close to being completely illegible.
    Celia must have been making a face without realizing it, because Raul whined, “Oh, come on. It doesn’t look that bad. Maybe I didn’t think it through enough, but at least you get the message.”
    “Another ten minutes in that water,” she said, pointing to the slush in the coolers, “and you won’t get any message at all.”
    Raul glared at the label, which really did look more like LOZ OS YOON ROG, and said, “Who am I kidding? You’re right. What a disaster.” He slammed the bottle back in the cooler, sloshing the water around so that it lapped over the side and onto the concrete floor of the pavilion. He flung the clipboard onto a picnic table and sat down at its bench, putting his head in his hands. He said to the floor, “You have no idea how much printer ink I wasted making those things.”
    Celia was surprised she hadn’t picked up on this before, but it all made sense to her now. Raul must be working as Laz’s campaign manager. That was why they were using his printer for the posters, that was why he was taking notes on the basketball stuff, and that was why he was so upset now. The whole event had been his idea, not Laz’s.
    She sat down next to him on the bench, measuring the right words in her head. Inside, she was glad that the labels were smearing so badly, that his really great idea had been foiled somehow. But that still didn’t change the fact that it had been a great idea in the first place. She decided it wouldn’t hurt her own campaign to admit that to him.
    “It’s a small part of the day. Look how much fun people are having. They probably won’t even notice the messed-up labels.”
    “They’ll notice,” he said, still refusing to look at her. “I debated just using a permanent marker and writing out the labels by hand, but no, I wanted to get fancy and use the computer. I’m so stupid.”
    Considering the small scale of the problem, he seemed almost too upset. Celia didn’t know what to say to make him not worry about it—she tended to be hard on herself, too. She looked out at the crowd and noticed that people had justpeeled off the labels, tossing them to