The Misfits: Chapters 21–30

She goes into a ramble about how we have to get together to work on her campaign speech, because the assembly is on Thursday and we need time to consider every golden word.

This analogy breaks down about halfway so that we spend the next five minutes with Addie going, “What? I don’t get it,” and me trying to explain it and realizing that it doesn’t really make sense, the conclusion of which is my saying, “Maybe you don’t want my help writing this speech since I cannot even have a coherent phone conversation.”

I tell her that I do not think a history of the Pledge of Allegiance or an analysis of the First Amendment is going to win many votes.

She gets all huffy about all the time she has put in and all the notes she has taken, and when I tell her maybe she should have put more thought into what she was going to do before doing it, she says, “I take umbrage at that remark.”

I try to persuade her to take a simple approach, to talk about name-calling and stick to that, but she says this is a presidential campaign speech, as if CNN is going to be there to cover it and the middle-school band will be blatting out “Hail to the Chief.”

All of a sudden, Addie gets all sympathetic, like she’s ten years older than me and engaged or something and I’m her pimply little brother.

“I’m lucky at least to know that Colin likes me. Even if he is as dense as a...”
She stops, not knowing what he is as dense as.

“Joe told me about the No-Name Party and I think it is so great. I remember what middle school was like for me. It totally sucked. Everybody labeled everybody else. It was so easy to hate yourself!”

I felt like I had to be the person they imagined me to be. The fact was I was awkward and incredibly shy.

I can’t help thinking, She likes me. And even when this other thought comes into my head, the one that says, No, she doesn’t, she likes Joe, I just push it away and bask in the light of her saying, “I’m glad you called, Bobby.”

“And Kelsey being Kelsey, well, if she likes somebody, she isn’t going to come right out and say so. She’s too shy. If anything, she’s going to get even more shy around the guy she likes. Ergo, henceforth, and in conclusion: Kelsey likes Bobby, not Joe.”

he declines your invite to hang out at the Candy Kitchen and goes deaf upon mention of the upcoming dance.

Joe bursts into a song from West Side Story, which prompts Roger Elliott to holler, “Shut up, you little...”

Addie and I agree to get together Tuesday night to write the speech. I am still not sure how I got hauled into this except that of the three of us—Skeezie, Joe, and me—I am the best with words and also Addie probably figures I am the least likely to get flaky on her.

He gets out of me the whole story about the No-Name Party and how it came about, and the whole time he is shaking his head, which he switches to nodding when I tell him our party motto, Sticks and stones may break our bones but names will break our spirit.

Even though you thought it was boring, I kept working on it over the weekend and I was all set to convince you tonight that it was brilliant and all you needed to do was help me refine it.

But the truth is—and if you tell anybody I said this I will kill you, I swear—my speech is a bunch of words and your speech is brilliant. Okay, maybe it needs some work to become a speech, but I can help you with it and it will be brilliant. Anyway, you have to give it because it’s all about you.

“We’ll all be there,” Addie says, seeing my hesitation. “Skeezie and Joe and me, we’ll be up there with you and we’ll be part of it. But the words, Bobby, they’ve got to come from you.”

Not just a speech, mind you, but a speech that when translated into basic middle-schoolese, boils down to: “Ready, aim, laugh!”

From the time I leave Addie’s house Tuesday night until eleven in the A.M. on Thursday, all that occupies my mind is the mess I have gotten myself into by agreeing to give this speech.

Fine, the No-Name Party is my idea, along with just about everything that goes with it, but does that mean I have to submit myself to ridicule and, worse, the loss of my one true love?

Not that Kelsey knows yet that she is my one true love, but after I speak, she will undoubtedly shudder at the mere thought that it might ever have happened.

When I get home Tuesday night, I tell my dad what transpired at Addie’s house, expecting him to say, “I’m not letting you get caught up in any left-wing, radical, nutcase politics. I’m calling Addie's parents right now and putting a stop to this nonsense!”

Joe will want to dance with Colin, which is not going to happen for a multitude of reasons, including the fact that Colin will be dancing with Addie, unless Skeezie’s theory is right, in which case, Addie will be dancing with nobody.

While my dad finishes packing my lunch, I say, all nonchalant as if I haven’t practiced saying it twenty-five times already, “You know, Dad, if it’s busy at work today, you really don’t have to come. I won’t feel bad, honest. It’s not such a big deal.”

You can’t help wanting to cheer your children on, kiddo. That's what being a dad is about. So. I will be there today and I will be cheering for you. Silently. I will not embarrass you, and that’s a promise. But I will be there.

"But that’s not honest,” I whisper back.
Joe says, “This is politics.”
To which Addie says, “It’s not about politics. It’s about Ms. Wyman. If we let her know we’re challenging one of her precious rules—”

Traditionally, it is the presidential candidate who speaks on behalf of the party.

But we are a non-traditional party and so it is another of our candidates who will be speaking to you this morning.

Maybe we’ll think about more than names and stop talking to each other like some of us are less than others of us. But, hey, I don’t want to get too ambitious here. Let’s just start with names. No name-calling. For one day. Then we can see where it goes.

Of course, the No-Name Party will do more than this. We want to represent everybody in the school and will work hard to make all voices heard on the student council.

We will work with the teachers and the administration to see that the issues affecting all of us in middle school are dealt with fairly and honestly.

Not only have I given a speech the whole school is talking about, but I have declared my love for the girl of my dreams. Okay, I may be getting carried away here. I have declared my like for the girl in my art class.

All afternoon, everyone is complaining that we have to wait until tomorrow for the elections and there is even a petition going around for next year, saying that speeches and elections should take place the same day because nobody can stand the suspense.

When we get there, he congratulates us on a good campaign and our near victory. Then he tells us that my idea for No-Name Day is more important than who gets elected to student council and will we work with him to help make it happen.

That was a brave thing you did yesterday, and I want you to know that bravery doesn’t go unrewarded. I’m making a personal commitment to seeing that things are different here at P.F.M.S. And that’s because of you.

Colin met up with Joe after school on Thursday. It took awhile, but he finally got up the nerve to tell Joe the same things he’d told Addie, in addition to admitting that he was the one who had put the notes in Joe's locker because he thought the notes in his locker were from Joe.

The way I look at it, love does not necessarily make for a happy ending any more than winning does. What makes for a happy ending is what Addie said all along: freedom. The freedom to be who you are without anybody calling you names.

I do think about politics as a career, but I don’t entirely trust the system. Maybe I’ll be a lobbyist.

I think we’re fascinating. And unique.
And fabulous.
And amazing.
And different.
And proud of it!