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for a few minutes with the glazed eyes of someone having a vision, and then glanced at me. “How much do you think a hot air balloon would cost?”
    “More than a hundred and fifty.”
    “I wonder…” said Lola.
    All the way to her house she tried to think of something spectacular we could do for less than a hundred and fifty dollars. What about skywriting? What about hiring a marching band? What about mimes? What about a short film? What about Sam and me jumping from a plane with a banner that said MAKE THE LEAP?
    “Will you get a grip on yourself?” I asked, as we finally shut the door of her room behind us. “I know I speak for Sam when I say that nobody is jumping out of a plane. Not even a small one. Not even one you’ve talked some poor chump into letting us use for free.”
    Lola looked at me as if I were being unreasonable. “You know, you could show a little more enthusiasm, El.” She put the snack tray on the bed and sat down beside it. “Enthusiasm is a very important factor in any campaign. Especially among the candidates.”
    I picked up a grape, but I didn’t feel like eating it; I felt like throwing it at her. And that’s when I told her.
    “You know,” I said, “you really are too much. Not only do you get me and Sam into this without so much as a word, but you then expect us to be enthusiastic.” I squashed the grape between my fingers. “Well, we’re
not
enthusiastic, Lola. We’ll run because we can’t get out of running, but that’s as far as it goes. Enthusiasm is not included.”
    “You mean that you’ll walk, but not run,” said Lola. She popped a grape into her mouth. “You’ll go through the motions, but really you’re just handing the election to Carla Santini on a silver platter. Neither of you cares what happens.”
    “Exactly,” I said. “You finally understand. You can drag a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”
    Lola popped another grape into her mouth. “I’m surprised at you, Ella.” She chewed slowly. “Really surprised. I thought you enjoyed a good fight.”
    “No you didn’t.” Lola’s voice was calm and quiet, but mine was loud and shrill. “
You
enjoy a good fight. I never fight with anyone, and you know it.”
    “You fight with me all the time,” said Lola. “You’re fighting with me now.”
    “That’s beside the point. You don’t understand what it’s like to be me, Lola.” Against my will, my voice started shaking. “I really am shy and retiring. I’ve
always
been shy and retiring. The only thing I could run for President of would be a club of one.”
    She swung a tiny bunch of grapes in the air. “Oh, please … you’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing as usual. You’re one of the most logical, intelligent and competent teenagers I know. You’re going to be brilliant. This is going to be your golden hour.”
    “No it isn’t,” I snapped. “If you have your way, it’s going to be one of those black and humiliating hours. You’re overestimating me. I can’t do it. I’ll pretend that I’m doing it, but that’s all. You can’t expect more than that.”
    Lola dropped her grapes and grabbed my shoulders. “But you can do it, Ella. I have faith in you. I know you can rise to the occasion.”
    “No, I can’t.” My voice screeched, more or less imploring. “Lola, I can’t go around smiling and shaking hands with people I don’t even know. I can’t meet Carla and Morty in a debate. I can’t stand up in front of the student body and give a speech.”
    “Why not?”
    My voice screeched some more. “
Because
I’m shy and retiring.”
    “No you’re not,” said Lola. “What you are is a victim of your own dubious self-image.” She gave me a look. I know she blames my parents for this. She thinks they’ve tried to smother me. “You
think
you’re shy and retiring, therefore you are. All you’ve got to do is change the way you think.”
    “No, you have to change the way
you
think.” I threw