History of the Trap: January Campaigns Part 3

3

They called us the Marty Martian Invaders. But that's okay.  We came back at them hard too.  We put out flyers on the hallway, and made personal contact with every student in the trap.  We gave speeches, including at a 'quasi-debate' style gathering in the gym (the only place, other than the football field, big enough to fit all of us), just three days prior to the election. Most of the speeches were pretty basic.  The amount of applause and enthusiasm they generated left us concerned.  There was much more stomping and cheering for the Granit-Knights than there was for our "Good Government" party.  Artie got the best response of our group, his speech spiced with a lot of great laugh lines.  The response I got was more mixed.  There was a chant of 'who killed MacKenzie?'  based from the soap opera, but I swore I could hear a back chant as well that sounded like 'Who killed Lisa?'  Artie denied that it happened, but it sure sounded like it to me.

One of the current reps that were siding with Mark Granite was, not surprisingly, my old nemesis Wilbur James.  He led their group in our senior class (still hadn't gotten used to being considered a senior).  He and some of his friends caught me in the hall going towards the gym about two days before the election.  "Marty Martian!"  Wilbur had only recently been using that name for me.  In the past, he had been smarmy and arrogant, but he hadn't really resorted to slurs.  I guess he was just trying to fit into his new crowd.  "So why are you running?  What can you hope to achieve?"

If I was Artie, I would have just given a sarcastic cutdown and moved on.  But not me.  No, I have to go to great lengths explaining all the things on our platform, all the grand and glorious things we hoped to achieve.  It was a great summary, impassioned but filled with reasonable, doable programs.  Wilbur and his friends listened to me, their eyes blank. After a five minute stem-winder, Wilbur just looked at me and said, "Marty Martian, you're out of this world crazy!"  

All of his buddies slapped Wilbur on the back, shouting stuff like, "You got that right!  Marty's an alien!  Tell it like it is, Brother Wilbur!" 

I was left alone in the hall, feeling humiliated and defeated, like I had put myself on the line and had made this sacrifice for no reason.  Maybe my initial instincts were right.  Maybe if they voted for these bullies, the students were just getting what they deserved.

And my Dad?  I didn't think about the consequences to him at all.