The round of applause suggests Angela has finished her introduction. Mr. Charter mumbles something into his microphone that I don't quite hear, but I catch Rose Matthews. Blake nudges me with his shoulder, forcing me into action.

As I pull the microphone toward me, it screeches with static. I wince, barely able to think over the rush of blood to my head. I stare at the crowd, willing myself to say something, anything, but the only thing playing in my head is: I let Adam have you.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat feels like sandpaper. Turning to Blake, I give him what must be a deer-in-headlights look.

He suddenly stands and looks at Mr. Charter. "We need a recess."

Mr. Charter frowns and covers his microphone with his hand. "We haven't even got the introductions out of the way. Our midpoint break is at–"

"Now," Blake says.

Instead of arguing or scolding Blake for his attitude, Mr. Charter nods and gets to his feet. "Our candidates are going to take a short moment to convene," he says to the crowd. "We'll resume momentarily."

The moment he says it, Blake grabs my arm and leads me backstage. We keep going until we're far away from the others, right at the back near the abandoned costumes for last year's school play. It's practically pitch black tucked away in the costumes, but I prefer it this way – at least Blake won't see me cry.

"That was–" Blake says, rubbing his jaw, "–I don't know what that was, but it was something." He looks over, sees my legs trembling, and grabs me to keep me steady. "Hey, are you all right?"

All I can do for the next five seconds is repeatedly shake my head. I can't go back out there, not after the disaster that was our introductions; Chase Ridgerton has won.

"It's over," I say. "I quit. I'm not going back out there."

Blake reaches out, tucking my hair back, and brushes a tear from my face with his thumb. "You're not a quitter."

He's wrong. The old me wasn't a quitter, but this new Rose, who was just subjected to what felt like torture, wants nothing more than to walk out of here. "I know you put a lot into helping me, and I'm grateful, but I can't do this anymore."

He grabs my shoulders until I'm forced to look at him. "You can, and you are. We are."

I pull away from him, mostly because I hate that he has to see me like this: pathetic. "What chance have I got now?"

"The same chance you had before she started spouting all that bullshit."

My shoulders heave at his optimism. "Don't you get it? Everyone knows I paid you, Blake, not to mention how does he even know about that? Nobody except you and your friends knew."

Blake drops his hands. "You think I told him?"

For about a second, we stare at each other. I think maybe I'm looking for something on his face, a sign that he's not to be trusted, but all I can see are the moments he stepped outside of his comfort zone to help me.

"No," I say, shaking my head, "I'm just–" guilt takes over as I look away, "–I don't know what to do anymore, Blake. He's like the king of chess: always two steps ahead."

"What is it," he says, mouth lifted, "with you and these analogies?"

I fold my arms because he's not helping. "Forget it – I just want to go home." I turn like I'm ready to hotfoot it out of here, but Blake pulls me back.

"You walk out, and you're letting him win," he warns.

"So let him win," I say, throwing my hands up. "This was always his plan from the start." My voice breaks when I remember what Chase said. "Chase wanted to make sure she won, so he threw me under the bus to do it." I close my eyes, overcome with shame, despite doing nothing wrong. "He said he let Adam have me."

For the first time, that coolness in Blake's eyes turns to something I don't recognize. He half-turns, jaw clenched, and stares down the room to where Libby and Chase stand. As if Chase can feel him watching, he looks up and smirks.

I grab Blake's hand and try to pull him back, but his body has turned to concrete. "This is part of his plan too. If you do this, you'll get suspended, and I need you on that panel with me."

He turns back to face me. "You're going back out there?"

I hesitate as Mr. Charter comes over to ask if I'm okay or want to discontinue. I stare at him for what feels like forever, then glance at Blake, whose expression urges me on. "I want to continue," I say.

Mr. Charter nods like he's proud of me and hurries back to the stage. As we're following him, Blake leans closer, still looking ahead. "What's the most powerful piece on a chessboard?"

"The king."

"Wrong," he says as we step through the curtains, "it's the queen."

Something glows inside of me as we make our way to the panel. As I sit down, breathing hard, I try not to think about Chase or winning the campaign; all that matters is that I get through this debate.

Blake turns his head and whispers something in Chase's ear that makes Chase glare. I look between the two, panicked as to what they're talking about, but there's no time to dwell. Mr. Charter introduces me for the second time, so I turn to the audience and briefly clear my throat.

"Good morning Archbury High," I say, my voice strong and even. It's all an act; inside, I feel like curling into a ball, but there's only one way through this. I can cry later in the comfort of my room, not here in front of Chase.

I glance at my notes, rereading what I'd written, but now it all feels empty. I push aside my carefully crafted notes and speak from the heart instead. "You might know me as Rose Matthews," I say, "or you might know me as the Mayor's daughter. Maybe you know me as Chase's ex or the girl from the video – hey, some of you have even referred to me as that bitch." A few people snicker, and Mr. Charter winces at my language. "These past few months, it feels like I've been reinvented a hundred times over by the people around me, and the worst part of all is that I let them. I stayed quiet while people defined and redefined me, but the one thing I never thought to do was define myself, so here goes."

Briefly, I scan the auditorium, no longer blinded by the lights. No longer afraid to say what I've been thinking. It's not like this thing can go any worse, so what have I got to lose? "I'm not perfect. Maybe I've always pretended to be, but I'm not. No one is, and I'm only starting to understand that maybe that's okay. But I am hardworking, determined, a little neurotic, and, most importantly, caring. I care about what happens at this school. For the last few years, I have worked tirelessly on the school council, and everything I have done has been to improve this school, including my three R's initiative for bullying."

For a moment, I shift my gaze away from the crowd to look down at Blake. He's staring right at me, lip lifted slightly in that half-amused, half-surprised way he's perfected, and it urges me on. "Libby is right; the future is important, but so is right now. People tell us we just have to hold on through high school, and our lives will get better. I don't know about you, but I don't want to wish away my life. There are things already in place to shape your future, but what we don't have is an initiative in place to improve our present. That's why, if you'd like to help me make a change, you should vote for me as your president."

I sit down, heart pounding as Blake looks over and grins. As I steady my breathing, Mr. Charter explains to the audience that we will now be answering questions put forward by our opposing teams. Libby was the first name pulled out of the hat, so she gets to go first. She leans forward, her mouth to the microphone, and smiles sweetly.

"This question is for Rose," she says. "Have you considered how much it would cost to install and facilitate these rooms you suggested? It's a very permanent solution to a temporary problem. Another year, and we'll be out of this place and into the real world. Why should these future seniors vote for something they won't even make much use of?"

I clear my throat and then again for good measure. Out of all the things Libby could have said, this is the one question I hadn't prepared for. "Well," I say slowly, "if I become president, I'll work to have rooms implemented over the summer, which means that seniors will be able to use them fully during a year they'll need them most. It also means that students in other grades can access those facilities. I'm sure the student body will agree that these initiatives are not just about benefitting us, but the whole school."

Libby sits back, eyes narrowed, as Mr. Charter indicates for Angela to speak. She sits forward, looking exhausted, and says, "My question is for Libby. With all of the initiatives in place for college prospects, can you explain why you believe your initiative is more important than the health and wellbeing of Archbury's students?"

Now that Libby's attention is no longer on me, I start to zone out. I'm growing fainter by the second, wishing I could climb into bed, but a glance at the clock reveals there isn't long left; I just have to survive this.

We ping-pong back and forth for the next few minutes. To no one's surprise, Libby's questions are always aimed at me and mine at her. Angela sighs and sits back as though she no longer sees the point of being here. For the last two minutes, neither Libby nor I have acknowledged her.

"I have a question," Angela says at one point. "Are either of you going to ask me anything about my campaign?"

Libby smiles tightly and throws her a sympathy question before setting her sights back on me. Her questions so far have been easily answered, and I start to feel like I'm back in with a chance when Chase looks over and smirks.

"Rose," Libby says. "You claim to be professional and therefore a good candidate for the presidency, but isn't it true that you're having a fling with your own campaign captain?"

Mr. Charter jumps up before anyone can speak and quietly addresses Libby. He doesn't look happy, and even though I can't hear what he says, I'm certain he's scolding her. Libby clears her throat, but beside her, Chase smiles. It doesn't matter that I didn't get to answer the question because that was never his intention. He wanted to put the idea into the heads of these students, and that's what he did.

I can't sink any lower into my chair if I tried. I want to jump up and scream that stealing my campaign isn't professional either, but Blake's hand clamps on my shoulder like he knows what I'm thinking. and what good would it do anyway? It's not as though I can prove it, and at this point, it'll just make things worse.

"I think," Mr. Charter says, looking redfaced, "it's time for our closing statements."

Head in my hands, I barely listen to a word of the other candidates' speeches. When it's time for mine, Blake gives me a little nudge that forces my head up, where I stare into the faceless bodies of the crowd. I don't know what to say at this point, whether to salvage the shreds of my reputation or accept that it's gone.

"The other candidates have made some great points," I say loudly into the microphone, "and in an ideal world, we'd get to make all the changes put forward this morning. However, I firmly believe that my initiative will not only make this school better in the short-term but in the long-term too. I'd also like to take this moment to remind you that being perfect isn't a prerequisite to being president. I work hard, try hard, and get things done. That's what you need in a president, and that's what I'll do if you vote for me. Thank you."

The six of us stand up to polite applause. It feels like forever before Mr. Charter gives us the nod to exit the stage. Dizzy, I follow Blake behind the curtain and try not to vomit. As we're walking, Chase passes to my left, and I barely have a moment to think before I tug on Blake's arm. "Can you give me a moment?"

He looks at Chase, then back at me. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be back in a minute." Breath held, I walk over to Chase, who turns his head away from Libby to pin his gaze on mine. "Can I talk to you?"

He looks down at me. For a moment, he looks so innocent that it's hard to believe all the ways he tried to sabotage me. "Sure."

I grab his arm, leading him to a part of the stage where no one can hear us. Finally, when I've gathered the courage, I lift my gaze to his. "How did you know all of that stuff? Who told you?"

He tilts his head at the same time, his jaw hardens. "It's not exactly the world's best secret," he says, leaning on the wall. "Someone walked past you and Blake kissing this morning."

For a moment, I don't speak. I'm so angry at myself for our recklessness that the words get caught in my throat. I go to leave, but he grabs my hand, turning me around.

"It wouldn't have gone this far, you know," he says, "if it weren't for Blake. I mean, I'd still have made sure Libby won, but the rest? Consider that payback for him assaulting me."

I stare at him for what feels like a long time. "Congratulations," I say, my voice hollow. "You won, Chase. Checkmate. It's over, okay? Just please leave me alone now."

"It's not checkmate," he says as I push past him, "not yet."

I fall into step beside Blake as we make our way to class. The rest of the day is a blur or nothingness. I somehow manage to get through my classes, but instead of having lunch in the cafeteria or meeting Blake by the bikeshed, I sit in my car and cry. By the time I've stopped and flicked open the sun visor, my face is a cherry-red mess. Still, if there is one thing I've got to be happy about, it's that all of this is nearly over.

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