Mia the Meek by Eileen Boggess Page B

dreams,” I said.
    Tim checked the ball and asked, “So, what did you think of Cassie’s speech?”
    “I thought it was intellectually stimulating. It must have taken you all of five minutes to help her write that yesterday,” I said, blocking Tim’s shot and stealing the ball. Dribbling around the court, I mimicked, “I’ve got a body. Yes I do. I’ve got a body, so I’ll show it to you!”
    “Hey, don’t blame me for that speech—I had nothing to do with it,” Tim said, covering me. “Cassie must’ve thought of it after she left my house. I was just as shocked as you when she started taking off her clothes.”
    “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy Cassie’s speech.”
    “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”
    I head-faked Tim and drove for a lay-up. “You’re such a pig,” I said after my bucket.
    “No, I’m not. I’m normal. Statistically, the average male thinks about women once every seven seconds.”
    “No wonder you’re so mental. You spend way too much time thinking about girls.”
    “There’s no such thing as ‘too much time’ when girls are involved,” Tim remarked as he grabbed the ball. “By the way, how’d you ever come up with the idea for your speech?”
    “It just kind of came to me as I stood up on the stage. Did it sound totally lame?”
    Tim dribbled around the court.
    “Well, it did get kind of weird when you called yourself ‘Queen of the Freaks,’ but the rest was pretty original. What gets me is the whole ‘Mia the Meek’ thing. I just don’t get it—you’re about as timid as a tidal wave.”
    “Believe me, I never thought that within a couple weeks of starting high school, I’d be giving a speech to be class president.” As Tim dribbled behind his back, I lunged for the ball but missed.
    “My charm and award-winning personality must have rubbed off on you.”
    “If anything of yours rubbed off on me, I’d need to be vaccinated.” I grabbed the ball out of Tim’s hand and an electric shock snapped my hand. I dropped the ball and rubbed my palm on my shorts.
    “Man,” Tim said, “did you see that spark? I had no idea you were so hot for me.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself. The only attraction I feel toward you is the urge to beat you in a basketball game, so I can wipe that smug look off your face. Unfortunately, your humiliation on the court will have to wait. I’ve got a ton of homework tonight.” I started walking toward my house.
    “Hey, Mia?” I stopped and turned to look at him. “Good luck tomorrow. I hope the best person wins.”

    Before morning announcements, Mr. Benson gave a predictable speech on how all the candidates were winners and, no matter who became president, would still be contributing members to the class. We nodded our heads in agreement, but secretly we all knew his words didn’t mean a thing.
    Suddenly, the speakers of the PA system came to life and the air was filled with the sound of Mrs. Jensen loudly blowing her nose.
    “I told you to wait to turn on the intercom until I was done clearing my nasal passages!”
    The speakers went dead, then squealed as Mrs. Jensen shouted, “Well, I’m done now. Turn it back on! The intercom’s on? Why didn’t you tell me sooner—oh, never mind.” After an additional series of coughing fits, retching sounds, and phlegm clearing, she finally began the morning announcements, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following students will be your class officers for student council this year.” She coughed. “This blasted cold! I knew I shouldn’t have shaken hands with the Bishop yesterday—he was sniffling all over the place. I need a cough drop.” Then there was dead silence as the intercom was turned off.
    Just as abruptly, it buzzed to life again and Mrs. Jensen repeated, “The following students will be your class officers: for the freshman class, the vice president will be Jessie Carson, and the president will be. . .” The microphone squealed again, and then there was