“That’s why it helps to get more people involved in the campaign,” Megan explained. “I read that a prom queen campaign is no different than any other sort of political campaign. In fact, I got to thinking that if I enjoy this as much as I think I will, I might even go into politics.”

  Janelle’s pink plastic spoon stopped just inches from her mouth. “You cannot be serious.”

  “Why not?” Megan shrugged. “I’ve always been interested in political science.”

  “You would actually run for public office, on purpose?”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Chelsea told Janelle. “We need more Christian leaders in politics. Don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” Janelle said reluctantly.

  “You know, Janelle,” Megan said a bit cautiously, “it wouldn’t hurt you to start thinking more positively.”

  Chelsea laughed and Janelle just rolled her eyes.

  By the end of their meeting, Janelle had agreed to handle Megan’s Facebook campaign, and Chelsea planned to help with posters.

  “Since Lishia’s not here, we’ll assign her buttons,” Megan said.

  “We’ll need to get some really good photos of you,” Chelsea told her.

  Megan frowned. “I’m not that photogenic.”

  “What happened to your positive thinking?” Janelle teased.

  “Right.” Megan nodded. “I am going to become very photogenic.”

  “We can help you with that,” Chelsea offered.

  “Oh, yeah,” Megan said, “I heard how you made Janelle look so hot on that youth group retreat last fall.” She pointed at Janelle. “So why don’t you look like that all the time?”

  Janelle made a face. “Because I happen to be perfectly fine with my appearance, thank you very much. I know that beauty is only skin deep. And I’d rather improve my mind than obsess over my outward looks.”

  Megan controlled herself from sniping back. Reminding herself of one of her slogans—a prom queen is gracious and kind to everyone—she simply smiled and nodded. “That’s very admirable.”

  Janelle laughed. “There she goes again, putting on her prom queen act.”

  “Being polite doesn’t have to be an act,” Megan replied. “Maybe I just want to become a nicer person. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Not if it’s genuine,” Janelle told her.

  “Anyway, back to the photos,” Megan said to Chelsea. “Do you think you can help me with that? Maybe a little makeover?”

  Chelsea nodded. “Sure, it’d be fun. But we don’t want to go too far with it. The whole point that Janelle and I were trying to make at the retreat is that everyone is too focused on looks. And there’s no way I want to turn you into a jerk magnet.”

  “Huh?” Megan frowned. “A jerk magnet?”

  Janelle giggled. “No chance of that, Chelsea. Short of the kind of costume I was wearing, Megan doesn’t have what it takes to become a jerk magnet.”

  “What is a jerk magnet?” Megan asked.

  Chelsea and Janelle took turns explaining how some girls have a certain look—a look that magically attracts guys who are only interested in one thing.

  “You know the kind of girl, really pretty with all the right kinds of curves and a mane of long, blonde hair,” Janelle told her. “A guy takes one look at her and assumes she’s auditioning to be his personal playmate.”

  Megan nodded. “Well, that’s definitely not the look I’m going for, so don’t worry.” She pointed to Chelsea. “To be honest, the first time I met you last fall . . . well, I kind of thought you were one of those girls. But I know now I was wrong. Besides, you’ve kind of toned it down.”

  “Thanks.” Chelsea dropped her spoon into her empty sundae cup. “I had to learn that the hard way. Kate—that’s my stepmom—she kind of helped me with a makeover that went a little too far. Trust me, I’m glad not to look like that anymore. Besides it being too time consuming, it’s a relief to not feel like a jerk magnet.”

  “Nicholas Prague seems to appreciate it.” Megan knew that Chelsea and Nicholas were “almost” going together.

  Chelsea grinned. “For sure. Did you know that he was totally put off by the way I looked before?”

  Megan shook her head. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “Speaking of guys, have you considered your date for prom?” Janelle asked.

  Megan shrugged. “Not exactly.”

  “Well, I hope it’s on your list,” Janelle teased. “It’d probably be embarrassing to be a dateless prom queen.”

  “How about you?” Megan decided to defer this. “Who will you go to prom with—I mean, if you go?”

  Now Janelle looked uneasy.

  “Chase will probably ask her,” Chelsea said. “Hey, maybe we could double-date with you guys.”

  “Good idea,” Janelle said with enthusiasm. “Tell Nicholas to start putting a bug in Chase’s ear, and we can all go together.”

  Suddenly Janelle and Chelsea were discussing their plans for prom, and Megan felt like an outsider. Still, she knew she couldn’t get mad about it. At least not in front of them. So she just sat and listened, trying not to imagine herself as the dateless prom queen. Really, she would need to start working on that important ingredient too.

  Before they parted ways, Chelsea promised to figure out the makeover and photo shoot. “Maybe this weekend,” she suggested. “I’ll see if Kate is available. She’s a good photographer and pretty smart about makeovers too.”

  “Just don’t turn me into a jerk magnet,” Megan said in a joking tone as she unlocked her car.

  “No worries there.” Chelsea waved.

  Megan got into her car and let out a big sigh. This running for prom queen thing was starting to feel like a part-time job. But, she reminded herself, the payoff would be worth it. Suddenly she noticed something in her car. Oh, it had been there since she’d been allowed to start driving this car last fall, after Belinda went to college, but it felt like the first time she’d actually seen it. Hanging on the rearview mirror, dangling on a faded pink ribbon, was a gold heart. Actually it was a plastic heart, but it was supposed to look like gold. Embossed in the center of the heart in teeny tiny letters were the words “I Believe.”

  Megan remembered how she’d made fun of Belinda last year. Her sister’s prom queen slogan, “Believe in Belinda,” had not only sounded lame to Megan but sacrilegious too. Not that Megan’s opinions had influenced Belinda in the least. But now here Megan was, not only driving what used to be Belinda’s car but attempting to imitate her sister in her quest for prom queen too.

  As Megan put the car into gear, she wondered if there might be something wrong with this unexpected development. Was she making a big mistake in getting into this whole prom queen business? Was she becoming shallow and superficial, the very things she used to tease Belinda for? Or was this just those “pesky naysayer doubts” that Pastor Robbie had preached about? As she drove over to the middle school to pick up Arianna from soccer practice, she decided not to listen to the negativity. After all, she already had three friends who were willing to help and support her in this campaign. She couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t turn back now. She was not going to let those negative needles pop her balloon.

  “Why are you late?” Arianna demanded as she threw her pack into the backseat of the car.

  “I’m not late,” Megan shot back. Of course, this instigated an argument, but glancing at the clock on the dash, Megan decided to concede. “Okay, so I was ten minutes late, Arianna. Sorry.” Fortunately, that shut her baby sister up.

  “Are you still planning to run for prom queen?” Arianna asked.

  Megan was trying to decipher her tone. Was Arianna getting ready to launch into tease mode again? Did it even matter? “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m still planning to run for prom queen. In fact, that’s why I’m late. I was having a planning meeting.”

  “A planning meeting?”

  Figuring this was good practice at congeniality, Megan explained the nature of the meeting and what her friends were offering to do, including the makeover and photo shoot.

  “That’s cool.” Arianna nodded. “Sounds like fun.”

  Megan concealed her surprise. “Yeah, I think so too.”

  “But I’m still a little confused.”

  “Confused?” Megan braced herself for a snitty sister attack.

  “Last year when Belinda was running for prom queen, you constantly made fun of her. You even told her she was acting like an oversized Barbie doll. You called her Belinda Barbie, remember?”

  Megan grimaced. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do remember.”

  “Why did you think that then? And what makes it any different now?”

  Megan thought about it. “Those are good questions.”

  “Uh-huh.” Arianna was peeling open a granola bar wrapper. “Got any good answers?”

  “To be honest, I suppose I was jealous of Belinda.”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded and took a bite.

  “I suppose I owe her an apology.”

  “Maybe so,” Arianna said with a full mouth.

  “And the reason I want to run now . . . ?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “The truth is, I really want to start thinking more positively about myself. I want to believe in myself and that I’m able to accomplish something big.”

  “So you’re really serious about prom queen?”

  Megan nodded. “I am.”

  “Cool. Well, let me know if I can help. Olivia would probably help again too. Remember we made buttons for Belinda last year.”

  “That’s right. You guys are like the button pros.”

  “Of course, Belinda did pay us in pizza and videos and stuff.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me.” Still pretending she was already prom queen, Megan decided to ask Arianna about her day. “How was soccer practice?”

  As Arianna opened up, going on and on about how stupid Felicity Gossler was acting like the world’s worst prima donna and like their team wouldn’t survive one game without her, Megan realized that putting on this whole prom queen persona had some unexpected perks. Not only was Megan learning how to exercise tact and diplomacy, but everyone around her seemed to be acting a little nicer too. There really was power in positive thinking!

  4

  Over the next few days, Megan went out of her way to be friendly with everyone who crossed her path. Sometimes she received pleasantly surprising results, like when Dayton Moore complimented her on her outfit (somewhat concerning since she was wearing a T-shirt that Mom had accidentally shrunk in the dryer), but then he asked her to help him with an essay. Dayton was an athletic hero but something of an academic zero. Not that it had seemed to trouble him much. But unfortunately his senior year had become a challenge because he needed to have at least passing grades to get into the small college that was offering him a football scholarship.

  “I’ll help you with your essay,” she promised him, “if you’ll help me to campaign for prom queen.”

  He looked somewhat shocked. “You’re running for prom queen?”

  She placed a forefinger over her lips and grinned. “Don’t tell.”

  “Uh, okay. But I heard that Amanda Jorgenson was going to be prom queen this year.”

  Megan frowned. “How could anyone possibly know that? It’s an election, Dayton. The students get to vote for prom queen.”

  He gave her a blank look.

  “You think it’s no contest?”

  Now he shrugged.

  “Do you want help with your essay or not?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, sure.”

  “So you’ll help me in my campaign?” She smiled sweetly.

  “Sure.” He nodded. “Why not? Amanda wins everything. It’s about time someone else had a shot.”

  Megan knew that Dayton had dated Amanda some time ago and that Amanda had been the one to dump him. He’d likely never gotten over it. Perhaps Megan could work that in her favor.

  Megan and Dayton shook hands on this new alliance, and Megan headed off to choir feeling like she was at the top of her game. But on her way, she noticed Zoë Evanston standing in the shadows of the music building. Zoë and Megan had been friends back in grade school, but by middle school Zoë had started getting wild, and they parted ways. She hadn’t had a real conversation with Zoë in years.

  “Hey, Zoë,” she said in a friendly tone.

  Zoë just glared at her.

  “I haven’t seen you around much,” Megan persisted, trying not to stare at the huge silver lip ring and numerous eyebrow studs. Didn’t Zoë know how ridiculous that stuff made her look? The black leather jacket didn’t help much either. “How’s it going?”

  “What do you care?” Zoë shot at her.

  Megan’s smile faded. “I was just saying hi.”

  “Well, save it for someone who gives a—”

  “Sorry.” Megan held up her hands. “Excuse me for being friendly.”

  Now Zoë stepped out in front of Megan, putting her hands on her hips and blocking the path. “Friendly?” Zoë demanded. “You think you’re friendly? Give me a break, you stuck-up—”

  “Why are you so angry?” Megan nervously glanced around to see if anyone was nearby to witness this unexpected little scene. Not that she was particularly worried, but the dark, threatening look on Zoë’s face was a little scary. And hearing the tardy bell ring suggested that everyone else, or at least the law-abiding students, had probably gone to class.

  “Maybe I’m sick of people like you,” Zoë practically spat into Megan’s face. “Maybe I wish people like you would just bug off and leave people like me alone.”

  “Okay.” Megan stepped back. “Excuse me.”

  “I would if I could think of one.” With dark, narrowed eyes, Zoë stepped aside and let loose with some off-color language. As Megan scurried past, jogging to the choir room, she figured she probably wouldn’t be getting Zoë’s vote this year.

  By the end of the week, Megan knew she had her work cut out for her. She hadn’t gone public in her quest for prom queen yet; only her closest friends were in the loop. But her “make new friends” campaign definitely had its challenges. She found that she received several different reactions. Although most of her peers returned her friendliness in kind, a number of them responded with indifference, some acted suspicious, and a few others, like Zoë, were downright hostile.

  “This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” she confessed to Chelsea on Friday night. The four friends had gathered for a makeover-sleepover. Chelsea’s stepmom Kate had taught them some beginning yoga steps, and a friend of Kate’s had demonstrated some products and shown them how to give each other facials. Now, with their paste-covered faces in various stages of treatment, they were just finishing up an old Sandra Bullock movie, Miss Congeniality.

  “Whether or not you run for prom queen, I think this has been fun,” Lishia told Megan.

  “It would be more fun if we had some good old-fashioned junk food.” Janelle held her carrot stick like a cigar. “Instead of this rabbit chow.”

  “Kate thought it would be helpful to detox,” Chelsea whispered. “You know, so that our complexions would look good. But I hid some goodies in my room for later. I figured we’d be dying of hunger.”

  “Hunger,” Lishia said suddenly. “That reminds me, I signed up to work at the soup kitchen tomorrow for lunch. Anyone else going? I could use a ride downtown.”

  “My mom committed me to babysit for my aunt tomorrow afternoon,” Janelle told her. “Believe me, I’d rather be at the soup kitchen than with my bratty cousins.”

  “I’ll go with you to the soup kitchen,” Chelsea offered. “I’ve been meaning to sign up for it, and it’ll be more fun going with someone I know.”

  “Maybe I should go too,” Megan said. “In fact, I actually need to find some kind of a good cause.”

  “A good cause?” Lishia made a confused frown.

  “You know, for prom queen,” Megan told her. “A good prom queen candidate always has a good cause. It’s part of being well-rounded.”

  “Speaking of well-rounded, I need junk food!” Janelle proclaimed. The girls raced up to Chelsea’s room, where they put in another movie and totally pigged out. Megan, however, practiced some restraint. She knew that if she wanted to be a serious contender for prom queen, she had to get into better shape. And a little past midnight, she decided that if she wanted to be photogenic in the morning, she’d better get some beauty sleep. So despite her friends’ attempt to pull an all-nighter, Megan called it a night and slipped over to the guest room across the hall where she went to sleep.

  The next morning, Chelsea and Kate went to work giving Megan her makeover. Between hair, makeup, and a black sequined dress that once belonged to Belinda, Megan actually felt surprisingly pretty by the time Kate began to take photos of her. Of course, the shots wouldn’t reveal how the dress was gaping in back. Unable to get the zipper up on the fitted garment, Chelsea had come to the rescue with safety pins.

  With all her friends urging her to strike poses and ham it up while the camera clicked, Megan realized she was actually having a good time. Halfway through the session, she switched out of the black number for a red silky dress she’d worn to homecoming last year. This dress actually fit and was easier to move around in.

  “This is so out of my comfort zone,” Megan confessed to Kate after they finally finished up. “It’s always been my older sister who does this kind of thing. She’s the pretty one. Belinda loves posing for the camera.”

  “Sounds like it’s your turn for the limelight.” Kate put her camera lens away.

  “Thanks,” Megan told her. “Thanks so much for everything!”

  “It’s time to head over to the soup kitchen,” Lishia announced. She pointed to Megan. “Do you want to change first?”

  Megan shrugged. The truth was, she wasn’t ready to give up the red dress quite yet. It was fun feeling this pretty. And after all, wasn’t she supposed to act like she was already the prom queen? “I think I’ll just go as I am,” she said on impulse. “Maybe the people at the soup kitchen will enjoy seeing something like this. Add a little color to their world.”