I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her for years.

Man, saying that is embarrassing, and you don’t even know who I’m talking about, but really, it only gets worse.

She hates me. With a passion. To her, I’m just that pesky rival who keeps fighting her for first place in everything. Not a possible love interest. Although, I’m not sure if she sees anyone as a love interest.

I’ve been in the same classes, clubs, and teams with her since second grade. We’ve been on the Student Council together for five consecutive years since fourth grade. Today, the Council meets to finish our plans for this evening’s orientation. As I approach the school, I have to shake off a desire to call out for her. I know what reaction she’d give - a disdainful glance, straightening her clothes as if she has something to prove.

Entering the Student Council room five minutes early, I find that everyone else is already present. “Oh, am I late?” I ask, fully knowing the answer before I do.

“Not technically,” the secretary says, “But it would really be nice if you showed up a little sooner. We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”

I shake my head. “Like I’d ever miss a meeting. Especially the orientation meeting.” I find my seat directly to the President’s right, trying to keep my eyes off her beautiful face. Oh, casual clothes today. Man, she’s pretty. I clear my throat. “What’s on the agenda?”

She glares at me. “We have to print out the orientation sheets and decide how to pass out the schedules this year. Also, you’re giving this year’s introductory speech.”

“I thought that was the President’s duty.”

“The rules and regulations speech is my job, but you can welcome them without my help. Unless you have so little self-confidence that you need me to hold your hand the entire time?”

I’m almost tempted to accept, but my pride won’t allow submission to her condescending tone. “I was just thinking that maybe you’re so scared that you need my help to do your job, but I guess our fearless president is too brave to admit it.”

She rubs her face and I notice she looks tired. “No. But if you give the welcome speech, then I can hand out the notebooks and outlines.” It’s a true sign of her exhaustion when she stops snapping back and starts using short, honest sentences with no sarcasm. Her sleeve pulls up slightly and I frown at the sight of dark purple on her skin. I catch her wrist as she lowers her arm, tugging on her cuff.

“What happened?” I ask, knowing she won’t tell me the truth. She always lies about her various injuries, as if we aren’t intelligent enough to know that she isn’t as clumsy as her bruises would make her seem.

She pulls her arm away. “I whacked it on something. Can’t remember what. Nothing to worry about.”

Yeah, right. You don’t get that kind of bruise without some serious force; there’s no way you could simply forget that kind of impact. I know from experience - it really hurts. But I let the subject drop anyway.

“Sure. Anyway, who’s manning the schedule tables?” From there the conversation turns to the upcoming orientation.

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Three hours later, we’re standing just inside the doors to the school, watching the students stream in. Treasurer John (my best friend) and Secretary Yulina (President’s best friend) are manning the sign-in tables. There are four lines based on last name. Each student has to find their schedule and sign their name for the record. President is holding the small notebooks that each student will get during the welcome assembly and speech later.

As the auditorium fills up, I sigh and take my place in the wings of the stage. President prepares to hand out the notebooks. Then the lights flash, and I walk out to face them. I’m greeted by gasps and clapping from the older students, but silence from the freshmen. I clear my throat and begin my speech.

“For your sakes, I’ll try to keep this short. My name is Lakodi Gretnil and I am your Student Council Vice President. Today, I would like to welcome you all to another year at Calleview High. Now I know that many of you aren’t ready to be back yet and want summer break to never end.” I see President start to hand out the notebooks. “Sadly, high school is required.”

“You’re about to receive a notebook that contains a list of all of the staff, their jobs, their classes, and their rooms. You all picked up your schedules on the way in. I would recommend circling the names and room numbers of your teachers. Our Student Council President, Kamorina Twistorm, will now explain the rules, regulations, and expectations of this school.” She scowls at me and hands the rest of the notebooks to Yulina.

By the time she gets to stage, her expression has rearranged itself into something more pleasant. “Thank you all. Welcome, again, to another school year. As you heard, my name is Kamorina Twistorm and I am the Student Council President. I will answer to almost anything you call me, with the exception of my first name or any impolite nicknames that may come to mind. It is my - well, not exactly pleasure” the crowd laughs “but my job, at least, to explain the rules and expectations.” She pauses to offer them a smile. “I know, I know. You already know it, and you don’t want to hear it again. Sorry.

“Our school, thankfully, has fairly simple rules. No bullying; if you insist on fighting, you can do it elsewhere, though the school does not condone fighting in any form. Arguments in verbal form are accepted, but we ask that you keep the volume reasonable for the sake of those around you. Any forms of stealing, lying, or cheating are unacceptable; however, be aware that neither the Student Council nor the teachers will interfere in interpersonal relationships of any kind in an official capacity. Private, off-record discussions with staff members are outside this rule. Gambling, swindling, and prostitution are also unlawful and will not be allowed. If you witness anyone breaking a rule, you can do one of three things; try to stop them yourself, speak to a teacher or student council member, or leave an anonymous tip in the box outside the Council Room door. We may not see it for a few days, but we will address it as soon as we do.

“That said, the student council is always available if you have any questions or suggestions about the school. We are here to ensure your safety, but we are not solely responsible for your comfort or conduct and we hold no sway over your grades. Our job is to make, revise, and enforce rules. I will remind you that our school operates a bit different than most - you remain in your homeroom class and your teachers will join you there, unless otherwise stated. Classes are determined by entrance exam scores and will be reviewed at the end of each semester.”

She pauses to scan the crowd and sighs. “But you guys know all this. Any rule changes will be reviewed in class tomorrow by your teachers. I hope you all successfully find your classes and your friends, and that you’re in all the classes you wanted to be in. Have a wonderful day and I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

She climbs off the stage looking exhausted and slumps onto the nearest stool as the auditorium empties out. Yulina glares at me as she says, “You couldn’t have at least told them some of it? Drawn it out long enough for her to finish passing out notebooks? You know how much talking drains her.”

I almost flinch. I do know how much she hates speaking, how hard it seems to be for her, and my heart hurts to cause her pain, but I can’t afford to let it show. “So? She’s the Student Council President. She should have seen it coming when she accepted the role the first time, much less two elections later.” My words contradict my emotions. “Come on, we need to head to our class.”

“Give her a moment to rest,” Yulina snaps. “She just got off the stage, and we need to help clean up anyway. Our teacher knows we’ll be late if we come at all. Remember, as Student Council members we are not required to attend freshman orientation anyway. Come on, help me move this.” She’s trying to roll the podium off the stage with little success.

I sigh and move to help. I know the four of us are in the same class this year. If I keep fighting my conscience like this, it’s going to be a long year.