Susan Marshall - Double Negative

Published by EvernightTeen at Smashwords

www.evernightteen.com

Copyright 20 21 SusanMarshall

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0460-9

CoverArtist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: Theunauthorized repr oduction or distributionof this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may beused or reproduced electronically or in print without writtenpermission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied inreviews.

This is awork of fiction. All names, characters,and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events,locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirelycoincidental.

To FerrisBuellers sister. This isnt her story but I bet she has a good one.

Andt o my badass aunts, Ann and Susan,whoapproaching ninetyare two of the most incredible women Iveever known. They will most certainly ask me about this Ferrisperson Bueller?

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It takes a village to write a book, so thanks toColin McAdam, who acted as a mentor at The Humber School forWriters and to the talented Jessica de Bruyn, who helped shape themanuscript into a real book.

To the inspirational Lorraine Dalydouble legamputee and friendthanks for encouraging me to include an amputeein this story and for reading the manuscript with an eye towardsensitivity. I am also the parent of a teen amputee, so I sincerelyI hope I got it right.

To mysister , Corinne Marshall, a millionthanks for your quick and thoughtful responses to my constantstream of emails, that usually start with what do you think ofthis paragraph/sentence/comma? Of course, she will be a second setof eyes for this acknowledgement. And to Kathy OHandley, whopinch-hits when Ive flooded Coris inbox too often in a givenweek.

To AdrianLang, I am extremely grateful for yourinvaluable insights and especially for helping me discover thereal ending to Reeces story.

Thank s as well to Marlisse Baker,mother of a competitive swimmer, who advised me on some of thetechnical aspects. And to my niece Estella Crosby, for graciouslyagreeing to read for the demographic and point out potentialboomer language.

I also owe adebt of gratitude to Allister Thompsonand Ali McDonald, who patiently read early, terrible drafts ofDouble Negative and provided valuable, tactful input. And to JodyScotchmer Dembroski , who helped me polishup the rough bits at the end.

T o my daughter Claire, who hascome through a tough year with her courage and kindness intact. Iam so lucky to be your mother.

And to the rest of my familythe true center of myuniversethanks for being such amazing human beings.

DOUBLENEGATIVE

Susan Marshall

Copyright 2021

The towering principal of WestHill High, Mr. DiFrancesco, lumbered onto the auditorium stage.Looking out at the fidgeting student body, he tapped on themicrophone, making sure it was live. He pausedpretty much everyoneignored himso he kept at it, the tapping becoming a backgrounddrumbeat to the hundreds of overlapping conversations.

As I sat and watched, my minddrifted. The tapping, the talking, became part of my usualdaydream, the soundtrack for my legs and arms as they locked into aprecise rhythm: kick-kick-kickstroke-stroke-stroke. A brief,familiar pain seared through my left shoulder. My eyes watered andI squeezed them tight. When I reopened them, I was again remindedof my new reality: I was a full-time air breather.

Shifting on the hard woodenseat, I glanced at my fellow students, noting the mostly averagebodies lacking tone and definition, so different from the fit andoften ripped bodies at The Elite High School for High PerformanceAthletesmy old school.

As you are aware, the resultsof the spring Student Council Election, Principal DiFran started,then upped the volume, for the positions of president and vicepresident, have been declared null and void. As if on cue, achorus of boos rang out.

The flagrant attempt toundermine democracy was truly shocking. DiFran paused, peeringover his reading glasses. There was substantial rule-breaking,including fake news and campaigning on social media. Voting isexactly one week from today, September 17th. Listen up, people! Youare about to hear from the four candidates, running in pairs. Firstup are Jamie Denning and Dean Diaz.

Not waiting for DiFran tofinish, my brother Jamie took position at the back of the stage, aswath of navy velvet curtain slung over his shoulders,superhero-like. In a flourish of fabric, he emerged with anold-style boombox propped on his shoulder. A familiar hip-hop songfilled the air, and Jamie dance-strutted to center stage.

People started clapping in timeas my mouth went slack. Id wondered why Jamie had worn so manylayers to school. Then it hit me.

He was going to shed those manylayers.

In front of theschool.

Right now.

Shit .

Seriously? I said to no onein particular.

Wait! What? OMG, Jamies soawesome! exclaimed a tall girl sitting on my right, sporting ahigh bun. She pulled out her phone and flicked on the cameraapp.

Dont! I said, leaning in.Remember what DiFran said about social media? He might getdisqualified. She gazed at me sideways, then nodded, clicking offthe app.

I glanced at the stage whereJamie played peek-a-boo with his baseball hat before turning myattention to a white thread dangling from my shirt sleeve. Somecatcalls rang out. I looked up as he tossed the cap. The musicchanged to a more poppy vibe, and Jamie started slowly unwindinghis blue scarf, his hips swaying in time as the audience gotnoisier.

Wow, this is so, so thehigh-bun girl said, biting her lower lip.

Cringy? I offered, crossingthen uncrossing my legs.

No way! Hes hot! shedeclared, turning to me, her eyes widening.

Uh, Im his sister Istarted.

Ahh? She raised hereyebrows.

Reece, I added, but my wordswere swallowed up by a chorus of, Take it off!

As a complete unknown at theschool, I slowly shook my head, realizing my status at West Hillwould likely be tethered to my unaccomplished, outrageously popularbrother, who was now sashaying the scarf down his body.

Will I everforget this moment? And will DiFran ever stop the strip? It wasnt like Id expected a normal electionspeech, but a striptease was outrageous, even forJamie.

Our parentshad convinced him that being school president would be his ticket into Cornell.Dad was desperate for both of us to be legacies. But with Jamie, it was morelike a Hail Mary. My brother was a good-natured slacker. I waspretty sure he had no clue what a school president was supposed todo, and if for some reason he did know, hed find any way tooffload his duties.

A country song started playing,the sudden change in rhythm drawing a few laughs. Jamie waved hisright arm above his head as if holding a lasso. Pretending to ridea horse, he paused long enough to unsnap his side button warm-uppants

On second thought, maybe youshould post that video, I said.

The girl smiled at me like Idtold a good joke. No way, hed be the best Prez.

I grimaced as Jamies pantsfell to the floor, revealing red and white floral swim trunks abovehis cowboy boots. The stage was starting to look like his messybedroom. DiFran paced nervously on the sidelines. I assumed he washesitant to interfere with the election re-do, but how far would helet this go?