Chapter One!

My Real Self

By Megan Peet

Chapter 1.

Hello, my name is Shane Baskett, and the day that starts my story started like any other day. Until I entered my Social Studies classroom during school.

But let's start at the beginning.

Like I said, I'm Shane Baskett, and I'm 15 years old. I would say that I'm a normal teenage guy, but really I'm not.

See, I'm shy.

Now, that might not seem like a big problem to some of you, but trust me, it's hard! I go to school everyday, and when I come home and my mom asks me if I made any new friends, I say no.

And boy, she really gets on my case.

“Why aren't you socializing with the other teens?” She said to me a few weeks after school had started. “I never see you bringing any friends home besides that one guy, what's-his-name.” I tried to explain to her the downfalls of being shy, but she didn't understand.

“Being shy is just a choice,” she said, “You could be outgoing if you wanted to. Which means you must not want to.”

Sorry Mom, but you're wrong. I'm not shy as a choice, I'm shy in my nature. Which is kind of funny, because my mom, she's a completely different story. But more about her later.

It's not like I don't have any friends. No, I have friends. I have a best friend. His name is Rupert Field, but people always call him R (besides people like parents and teachers). He doesn't really like the name Rupert.

R comes over a lot, and I go to his house too. But my mom just doesn't seem to think that's good enough. I guess she wants me to make more friends. She calls it “expanding my horizons”. I call it 'stupid', for lack of a better word.

But back to that one day in Social Studies.

I walked into the room nonchalantly, just like I always do, every Monday through Friday of an average week. I sat down in my desk towards the back right of the room, and saw R taking his towards the back left. People were scattered throughout the room, filling it quickly, leaning against the desks, or sitting on them, chattering away. People were hugging, laughing, I even saw one girl crying. Soon enough, our teacher, Mr. Herman, who R and I call “Mustache” cleared his throat and got us (I mean them) to settle down. He started going on about this and that, clearing his throat a lot, an annoying habit of his. My mind started to wander, because I really already knew 75% of what he was talking about. I thought about lunch, because my stomach was already threatening to let a growl escape. I clenched my stomach muscles tight, not wanting that to happen. Oh no. Public embarrassment and humiliation was one of my worst fears. But then he mentioned the words 'class president' and I sat up a bit straighter. Were the elections coming up? Yes.

“Now, you've all seen your parents vote. Elections are nothing to joke about. That's why we have elections in school also. To help prepare you for adult-hood, and the reality of voting for president. So, for this class, there will be sophomore class president, vice president, secretary...” he went on, listing the roles of office.

I wasn't particularly interested, but I did know who I wanted nominated for president. Sophia Markson. I didn't know her very well, never having exchanged more than two words with her, but R knew her (him not being as shy as me). She got straight A's, was always speaking up in class, giving her opinions, and a lot of the time she really did have good opinions. I was sure that someone would at least nominate her. Then that would solve the question of who to vote for. I started listening again.

“...Nominations for those roles are to be announced at assembly tomorrow. We'll tell you exactly how it's done then, for those of you who don't remember from freshman year. Then campaigns will begin, and students will be allowed to recruit friends to help them. We'll have lists of laws for those nominated...” he went on and on, his voice droning in my ears. I didn't listen very intently, because none of it was meant for me. Right?

That's what I thought at first.

The rest of the day went normally, too, or at least, for me it did.

I went to lunch. I went to my classes. I brought R home with me, and we headed upstairs to my bedroom. That's when I found out.

“Hey Shane, did you hear?”

I asked the stupid, obvious question.

“Hear what?”

He laughed at that a little bit, it was just his nature. Shaking his head, he told me.

“I guess you're not very plugged in to the girl talk. But why doesn't that surprise me? Heh heh... anyway, the girls are planning to all nominate some guy who's not very prominent or cool or whatever, I don't remember exactly what they said. But anyway, they said they're gonna nominate that one guy for every single position, and that way he'll be guaranteed to get in office. If the teachers see somebody's that popular, they gotta go along with it. That's their plan, I guess. I thought it was kind of stupid, personally. What do you think?”

I was quiet for a little while. Being naturally quiet, R didn't question this. But when I didn't speak up for maybe 5 minutes, he got impatient.

“Well? What d'you think, Shane?”

“I don't know. It sounds kind of silly to me. I mean, why would they want to pick someone who isn't, like Mustache says, an 'upstanding member of the teenage society'?” I said, afflicting my voice to sound like our teacher, and making R laugh. I smiled. Making people laugh is such a nice feeling. R got it all the time, he was naturally funny. I, however, had to try pretty hard. But that just made it even more satisfying.

We kept talking about the girl's silly sounding plan. I really don't see the point in it. After all, who's going to vote for somebody that people don't like? Maybe I just didn't understand their plan very well. But all I had was R's word to go on, and I trusted him. He didn't always have the full truth, but the truth that he had and was willing to give me was better than no truth at all.

We hung out in my room, talking about bunches of stuff, and then went out to play basketball. When R went home and I went back inside, my mom was there waiting to serve dinner.

“So,” she asked, trying to make her tone sound conversational and not prying, “What's your friend's name again?”

“R.”

“Come on, Shane, you know I don't like that silly nickname. Oh, now what does it stand for... Robert? No... oh, I remember! Rupert.”

It sounded so strange to hear my best friend's real name. He wasn't a Rupert at heart, he was just plain R through and through.

“It's not Rupert, it's R,” I mumbled, but she paid no attention, simply setting the hamburgers on the table and sitting down. My dad came through the door just then, home late from work.

“Hey Dad,” I called.

“Hey sport!” He said in his energetic voice, coming into the kitchen and giving my mom a kiss. “How was school?”

“Okay.”

“Well, okay! Mmm, food looks delicious, honey. Let's eat!”

And the rest of the evening continued, my parents being their normal perky selves, and me just blending into the furniture. Good night's were said, and I went to my bedroom, thinking again about the silly girl's plan. Maybe they were planning to nominate R. I didn't want that. I wanted to keep my best friend just simple, himself. But maybe presidency would be good for him. I guessed I'd just have to wait and see.

The morning dawned clear and dry, sun in the blue sky, fluffy wisps of clouds just floating around. Which was funny, because when I walked home from school, it seemed like the world was crashing down around me and the universe would never be the same. Just wait. I'll explain.

The campaign nominations were held at assembly, just like Mustache had told us. First they explained the process, went through rules and regulations, all that boring junk. To tell the truth, I spent most of that time doodling in my math notebook. I mean, I wouldn't need to know any of it. I wasn't nominating anyone or being nominated. So why should I listen? And the voting, the only part I would be participating in (unless R was nominated and wanted me to be on his help crew or something) wasn't until next Monday.

It wasn't until I felt R nudging his elbow into my ribs that I realized he was talking to me.

“What?” I said, sitting up, irritated.

“Dude, they're calling your name, man! You gotta go up there!”

And then someone was there, pulling me up from my chair, and there I was, on my feet, walking towards the stage. I heard scattered applause. And then I remembered. Yes, I know I'm rather slow on the uptake sometimes, but I really wasn't aware of what was going on until I saw who else was standing up on the stage. It was Stephanie, one of my classmates, nobody I had ever talked to. She was a cheerleader and an all-time prep, and I didn't even know that she knew I existed. But apparently she did, because I had been nominated- by her. My feet stumbled up the stage steps, and for a minute I had to close my eyes because the light seemed to be blinding them. I sure hope that I wasn't supposed to say anything, because I just stood there, I think maybe I was nodding my head, and Stephanie stood there also with a smug little smirk on her face, probably thinking, “There, Shane Baskett, I just did you a huge favor. You should thank me!”

Thanking was the furthest thing from my mind. Actually, what I was envisioning was my hands entwining around Stephanie's skinny little neck and- never mind.

I just kept standing there, and some other people were nominated also, popular people, brilliant people. Nobody that was average, who blended into the woodwork; like me.

If the girl's little plot had any point, it was beyond me. The principal said something about a meeting for the nominees after school, which I would need to attend. I only paid enough attention to find out the when and where. The we were dismissed and all went back down to our seats. The assembly finished up, and students of various ages scattered out towards their classes. I found R, somehow, or he found me. He was the first to speak.

“So, uh, I guess the girls were planning to nominate you. Wow, I really never guessed, Shane.” He chuckled, in typical R fashion. “But... snicker... you looked so funny standing up there like a board... snort.”

Soon he was laughing out loud, and I wasn't happy at him. He was probably the only person who at least mostly understood me, and he was laughing at me. Not with me, at me. I frowned and stalked off, picking up the pace so he couldn't catch up with me easily. He was laughing at my pain, my embarrassment. I scowled again.

Footsteps came from behind me, faster than the ones of the mull of students around me, someone running. R, of course. He caught up with me quickly.

“Hey Shane, don't take it personally,” he said gruffly, “I wasn't trying to be mean. I just don't understand what you're being so uptight about. Aren'tcha gonna talk to me?”

My shoulders heaved. He was right, and he knew it. I couldn't ignore him forever, him, practically my only friend.

“Okay, fine. I just don't appreciate being laughed at when I think this is a pretty serious matter!”

I watched his face, could tell he was trying not to start snickering again. But he was kind, and kept a serious look, and answered me seriously.

“Yeah, I know, I know. So I'm sorry for laughing at you. But you've only been nominated, you know? It doesn't mean you'll actually get the spot. People have to vote for you. And I was paying attention to the other nominees – I could tell you weren't – and there are some pretty spectacular people among them. Like football players and honor students. Not to make you feel little or anything, and I bet this'll comfort you anyway... it's a really small chance you'll actually be elected.”

A surge of relief flew through me like a wave. He was right. I didn't need to worry.

“Especially if I have a really extra-sucky campaign, right?” I said with a grin. R gave me a high-five, and we hurried our way to our classes.

Before we entered the first room, I turned to R and asked,

“Hey, just wondering, who was it that actually seconded my nomination, anyway?”

He thought for a moment. “Sophia Markson.”

Figures, I thought, laughing silently, without any actual humor.

Classes went on regularly, and I almost forgot about the horror-filled nomination time until I glanced up once during my math class and saw Sophia gazing at me. I put my head back down as fast as I could, cheeks starting to blaze. I didn't know why she was looking at me. Maybe, I hoped, she's regretting the fact she seconded me. I mean, nobody in their right mind would want a lame-o like me to be class president, or even treasurer. Right?

Apparently R had forgotten about it also, because when the day was done, he asked me if I wanted to come over.

“I have that meeting, remember? Something about the campaigns... I might as well just skip, though. Don't you think? It's not like I need to be there.”

“Yeah, that's right.” He agreed. I was a little nervous at first about skipping a mandatory school meeting, but since R agreed I couldn't help but go along with it.

“So you're coming over, then?” He asked. “I got Call Of Duty 2 last night and haven't tried it out yet. We could give it a go.”

I jumped at the thought, and then remembered. “Can't. Mom's got something planned for me at home. Special chores or something.”

“Aww, man, that drags. She still on your case about the shy thing, then?”

“Yup. She just doesn't understand, seriously. I mean, she still says that it's a choice, not something built into me.”

“Hmm. Sorry, dude. Oh gotta run, Bryn's here to pick me up.” I yelled my bye, watched R hop into his older sister's car, and then I began trudging my way home. Birds were chirping around me, and the neighbor seemed peaceful enough, but I had something stirring inside me, eating away at my sides.

It was the thought that maybe R was wrong. What if I did have a chance? I mean, I didn't really know what the sophomore class looked for in a president. Someone smart enough, but not a geek or anything. Someone maybe a little sporty. The girls would either vote for a girl, or a good looking guy, probably. I chided myself for not paying better attention, because if I had, I would know who was running against me, and even why they were nominated. Why was I nominated? I had no idea. The sky seemed to gray in my eyes as I pondered these things. I was a pretty all-around guy. I had done my part in being invisible, but I hadn't shirked on doing things I liked, either. I got good grades in most of my subjects. I had been on sports teams, never the star, just the trusty helpful teammate. Always in somebody's shadow, that was me. I didn't really mind it that way, either. I was good looking, I guessed, but I also wasn't really an expert on that. Like my Aunt Jessie always said when she told me I looked handsome, “Nobody sees themselves for who they really are. They just see themselves as who they aren't, always looking at the person beside them and measuring themselves lower than they should.”

I sighed, heaved my heavy backpack up higher on my shoulders, and decided to call R after I was done with whatever Mom wanted me to do. Maybe he would shed more light on the situation. Metaphysical black cloud still hanging above my head, I walked into the house and shut the door.