Behrooz frantically adjusted his tie backstage while Alan peered out at the building crowd.

"Looks like a lot of people," Alan observed, looking for friendly faces.

"Well, of course, the elections are mandatory." When two weeks ago, he had turned in his paperwork to officially launch his bid for class council, and when immediately afterward Alan shook his hand vigorously and offered "their" support, Behrooz hadn't quite expected the full display of posters and advertisements that culminated in one beautiful sham of an election. He knew that the four of them were the only ones running for office that anyone had ever heard of (a straggler persisted for the presidential position, who clearly had misjudged her odds), but he did not quite expect a political rally.

"Is everyone ready to take their positions? Don't forget your cue for the musical number during my concluding remarks—remember, it's 'I have one last thing to say.' Your own speeches had better be good too. We're going to need to do this twice more for the other classes, but I want to start off strong," Frank explained, tapping his microphone just to ensure it was there. "Anyway, it's time."

Frank emerged from the curtains to a roaring thrum of noise that astonished even him. He signaled for silence, and began reading, maintaining eye contact with the audience despite not having memorized his speech:

"Community. Identity. Stability. Three things all of us hold dear. Three things all of you ought to hold dear. In the interests of time, we all will keep our remarks brief, since we all know that this is a mere formality with an inevitable outcome—sorry, Kayla, but your chance at stardom is over. Over the last few years, I have built a thriving community here at Heller based upon nothing more than a few philosophical ideas I hold dear. Simple things, good old-fashioned values, many of which are familiar to all of you. I want to make one thing abundantly clear. I am the author. You are the audience. I outrank you—at least on merits of good person philosophy, which I think a good portion of us would consider the only philosophy of any merit. Through this sense of community, we create identity. A cohesive identity, but one with many complexities. We are all Tigers burning bright in the forest of the night. We are all familiar with the eye of the Tiger and the name of the fight. We are all crouching Tigers and hidden dragons. We are all so many things, each and every one of us, but above all, we are Tigers. By electing us, you are reaffirming your identity as Tigers, and your resistance is futile. Stability. The world is a scary place—in the last year, we have seen many changes. We have lost one of the great sages of our school. Some of us were caught in a drug sting which I officially cannot comment on further. College applications loom on the horizon, and will occupy much of our summers. So given all that, all I can promise you is stability. Reliability. Faces you can trust. Vote for me, and all will be well. Next up, Juliet Wong."

Juliet took the podium and cleared her throat a few times off-mic before beginning:

"Wow, so many people! Our future president really covered most of what I would have said, so I'll talk about myself a little. At the beginning of my time at Heller, people knew me as a cheerleader, little more. Maybe they recognized my face, maybe they didn't. It's all irrelevant now. But now, you all know me as a philosopher-in-training. I believe I have changed over the last three years, mainly thanks to Frank and his leadership. For the better, believe it or not. I cannot promise the same epiphany to all of you, but I can promise that if you listen to what this man has to say, whom I consider a friend of mine, a mentor, an inspiration, and so much more, all of you will become better people. And through that, we make the school a better place. I remember at the very first club meeting, he said 'where we go one, we go all.' I think that holds especially true today. Vote for us, and we will all improve." Juliet concluded on the verge of tears, not noticing Tom's chuckle at her concluding note—out of all the phrases Juliet could have remembered, she remembered the fascist motto Frank had co-opted. How fitting for a brainwashed maniac, he thought. Alan took the stage next and stood on his tip-toes to speak into the microphone before Frank ran backstage to grab a stepstool.

"Because Frank and Juliet have presented such optimistic messages about the future of our school, I think it fitting to deliver some brief reminders about what should happen if we fail. And by 'we' failing, I actually mean 'you' failing, because the burden does not rest on us for not delivering our messages passionately enough but on you guys for not understanding them. If any of you have watched the original Star Wars trilogy, you'll remember that common expression 'there's always a bigger fish.' We are sharks and you are minnows. You can swim forever, upstream even, but we will always catch up to you. Do you want to know what happened to those foolhardy minnows who thought themselves immortal? They got detention for daring to ruin the school's name. When I phrase it like that, the course of action should be pretty obvious, isn't it? Any rabble-rousing will not be tolerated. Join us or risk being forgotten. That's an interesting idea, isn't it? I don't even know most of your names! Maybe I'll learn them. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll instead assign clever nicknames to all of you—let me try that now." Alan left the podium and walked to the front of the stage, towering over the front row: "Zingy, Splotch, Fish-face, Dork, Bozo," he called out one-by-one, and the smart people in the audience laughed. "You see? It's not that hard for you to be reduced to mere nicknames, or maybe nothing at all. There is a way out though: join us, support us, work hard to be noticed through your merit. Make your high school experience one worth remembering. Last but probably least, Behrooz Ghorbani, everyone!"

Behrooz wanted to curl up in a ball and die of embarrassment. The speeches were nothing if not mortifying, laced with cruel subtexts even he picked up on. It was too late now. This is what he signed up for, and at this point, he really didn't have much of a choice, did he?

"I'm an outsider on this stage. I've always been an outsider, standing on the sidelines DJing or manning coat check while everyone else had their fun. And when you're an outsider, you pick up on some things. I'm the only person up here who isn't a club officer; I don't even attend their meetings. But simply by being in the proximity of these fine people, I've learned a few things. One: we may disagree on a few tiny details, but we both have similar goals. All of us here want to see Heller be made the best school in the nation. All of us here want to see each and every one of you just as happy with the results as we are. Two: these guys are genuinely good people. I know that phrase gets thrown around a lot without much meaning, but everything I have known them to do has been done with good intentions in mind. That's a hard ask, these days. When we all experience betrayal and backstabbing, it's a comfort to know that there are some people on whom we can truly depend. They're certainly the sort of people I'd like to have in charge. I don't know where next school year is headed—I'm trusting they have a plan, because I certainly don't. But I can promise that it's going to lead somewhere better than where we began. That's all I have to say, but Frank," Behrooz said with his best acting skills, "do you have any concluding remarks?" Frank confidently strutted back to the podium as the curtain drew back, revealing the three others standing behind him.

"I certainly do. I have one last thing to say, but I forget exactly what. Oh wait," he said with a grin as the music began, "Don't! Stop! Me! Now!" The club members in the audience had by then snuck out of their seats and assembled in the wings to wait for their entrances, and the lip-sync proceeded far better than would be expected from amateurs. Beth and Juliet had organized the choreography, which after months of marching drills was a breeze to learn. Those in the audience who didn't expect the plot twist, including Kayla, who had by then resigned herself to anonymity, watched with jaws hanging loose. Mr. T, who was filming the entire performance, flashed them a thumbs up. The song finished with bursts of confetti, and the entire audience roared in approval with the largest standing ovation Mr. Cathcart had ever seen.

"This wasn't how I expected them to secure the vote," Ms. Foster joked to Ms. Norris, who despite generally disapproving of pageantry decided to make a special exception for their performance.

"They've convinced me! But then again, I think this loses some of its luster given the lack of alternatives. If I were cynical, I'd go as far as to say that this is a veiled threat, 'don't stop us or else,' you know."

"You're such a funny one, Mary." By the time Frank and Juliet arrived to their TA period, Mrs. Huang had made up her mind based on that morning's assembly, and more importantly, prom that night. Frank had already confirmed that he had secured free tickets for all his VIP club members, which by definition included Juliet. And the previous day, when asked which special someones they were planning on going with, the answers proved inconclusive. Mrs. Huang would never get a moment like this again, she thought. This was the day.

"Great performance, both of you! I'm so proud!" she exclaimed, running over to give both of them hugs.

"It was nothing, really, just a bit of showmanship to keep them happy. Any credit should go to Juliet," Frank said.

"You're too modest, as always. This was your idea."

"So, my two favorite students," Ms. Huang interjected even more assertively than normal, "What are your plans for tonight?"

"I'm working. I'll be there. In the shadows. This is business for me," Frank answered.

"You're so studious even when you should be partying it up. I'm going for pleasure."

"Glad to see we're in agreement. Frank, do you have a girlfriend?" Mrs. Huang asked with a glimmer in her eye. Frank recoiled in horror and almost tripped on a desk.

"I am a bachelor, in fact. It's liberating. So, no."

"Juliet, do you have a boyfriend?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I don't," she said, looking at Frank with a smile that Frank perceived as uniquely threatening.

"So... tonight seems like just as good of a night as any, don't you think?" Frank looked at Mrs. Huang like she had just committed a crime, and Juliet could not decide whether she was supposed to speak first.

"Frank's my dearest friend, and—"

"Yes, we are dear friends. Anything else borders on impropriety, and well, if the president and vice president were dating, what example does that set for the rest of them?" Juliet did not seem hurt by this, and so Frank let his breathing steady.

"It was only a suggestion." Mrs. Huang took this as a partial victory: "dear friends" sounded like an euphemism to her, and if that's what they wanted to call themselves, she could still say that she had created a lasting friendship, even if it didn't have quite the same ring to it as "future prom king and queen." They continued the rest of the period working as usual, Frank and Juliet seemingly just as friendly as before, and the political incumbents walked together to the parking lot slowly, admiring the spring weather and the flowers in bloom. A few people stopped to congratulate them, who they largely ignored.

"Frank, you have no idea how much everything you've done for me means to me. In my speech today, I only mentioned this briefly, but I have so much more to say on the topic: I'm used to people treating me like an idiot just because of my pretty face or my personality or even because I'm a cheerleader. They automatically think less of me, like I'm incapable of having a serious conversation. It gets annoying after a while, you know? I have straight As. I probably have the same GPA you have. But nobody really treats me like a person of my own merits and not as an object to be caressed, not even my friends, besides you. You don't speak over me during meetings. You don't send me naughty messages by text. You don't try to test my boundaries and see how much you can get away with while nobody's watching. I can't tell you how rare that is, and how it makes everyone you know appreciate you that much more. If that's what being a good person is, I wish more people could be like you." Frank looked at Juliet with a newfound understanding. Whether he had known it or not, what he was doing was right. Even if he handled Juliet politically at times, a safeguard he believed he was increasingly able to dispense with, he had not done so out of malice; indeed, if he had truly thought her an idiot, he wouldn't have needed any precautions at all. Certainly, once, he had thought her a mere annoyance; but over time, she was slowly progressing beyond that to on the verge of tolerable. There was truly too much of a good thing, and that was Juliet thanks to the TA period, but Frank also knew just how much of a luxury that overabundance was. People would kill for the same.

"I believe I only act as everyone should, not with anything more."

"So while we're on such a good note, I have some quick little questions about everything. The drug bust was your idea, right?"

"Well, Beth gave me the idea and I turned it into something workable."

"Aha! It must have been you and not her—I saw her loading boxes into her trunk one day, and I thought her a drug smuggler. I'm glad to know that it was all for a good cause. But, you know, Regina got detention because of Alan."

"Well, Tom did too. And the school is a better, safer place because of his sacrifice."

"Do you really think so?" On any other day, Frank would be tempted to lie, but he knew better than that:

"Yes, I do. I wouldn't have spent the last two years fighting to make the school a better place, even if through unconventional methods, if I did not believe my actions had an impact." Juliet appeared to consider his words carefully, and Frank's left hand twitched with nervous energy.

"If you say so, Frank, I trust you." Frank believed what he was saying, but he was still impressed that Juliet did too. As much as he had hoped that she subscribed to the club's ideology not simply because of the brainwashing, perhaps Tom had been right. Juliet was a good person, even one whose moral compass was slowly slipping from the conventional, but she was not a "good person" in the sense that Alan was. It was a fortunate coincidence that despite their elitism, good people had many nice qualities too.

"Oh, one more thing, Frank, before you think you can get off so easily: why don't we do more charity events? It seems weird that a club dedicated to being good focuses its efforts so narrowly. What about a canned food drive to end the year?"

"Juliet, what a charming notion! Eminently practical and yet appropriate as always," Frank exclaimed gleefully. He stepped back with a dancer's grace, and Juliet suddenly reached out to take his hand in a delightful bit of improv; they did a brief waltz, avoiding the concrete barriers, until they realized that others might see.

"Well, anyway, I guess I'll see you at prom," Frank said with a chuckle, not quite sure what strange mood had swept the both of them that moment.

"Are you still going as a bachelor?"

"Well, I suppose you could phrase it that way, but you know I'm working. I'm just doing what needs to be done. I'm not much of a dancer anyway."

"Are you sure about that?" Juliet smiled, her expression and voice just as warm as usual, and she waved good-bye and went to her car. As much as she wanted to be disappointed in Frank for his unorthodox methods and gutsy vision, he made some good points. It wasn't just because of the club—Juliet had always admired those with initiative. Fortune favors the bold, after all, and besides, it felt good to be ahead of the game. Her parents had done the same, and had nothing but success and the occasional shiny bauble or trinket to show for it; that, and a loving childhood for her too that never seemed tense. In the span of two years, she had reached a new level of self-confidence and general competence, and a few bad people getting what they deserved maybe wasn't something a good person concerned themselves with.

Beth found John and Alan eagerly deliberating about something most likely of little importance in the central courtyard, and so she inserted herself in the conversation when she saw an opportunity:

"Who's ready for prom?"

"Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man," Alan moaned. "I need to wear a tuxedo because I'm apparently a waiter now—we have club members running the administration of the event, and while Frank's the one in charge I'm supposed to be his loyal second-in-command. I hate dances. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them."

"It's just a few hours, it can't really be a big deal, can it? Anyway, John: will I see you tonight?"

"I never make plans that far ahead." John was another lucky recipient of a free ticket, which was fortunate, as otherwise he had absolutely no intentions on going. He had no date, so what was the point? Beth encouraged him to think otherwise:

"All of your friends will be there. Tom, Regina, Juliet, Frank, myself. Behrooz will be DJing the entire time, so you can take some photos with me and we'll call it tradition, how about that?" This did not seem like a great compromise to John, but it was the best he thought he was going to get, so he nodded his approval.

They certainly could have hired people to man the coat check, feed the students, and check IDs; teachers would sometimes handle those tasks, but those who did show up were either telling students to stop making out on the dance floor or giggling in the corner in their own miniature dance party. So, in essence, the students did the bulk of the work and the teachers got to relax and drink sparkling apple cider. Frank felt pride in his work, even when it was his turn to shine shoes, and he hoped that his peers enjoyed the opportunity to boss around their classmates like he did when he ushered. Those sorts of events were rare, and he would hang a copy of the group picture of all the staff in their matching tuxedos in his room; due to a miscommunication with the Office Depot staff, forty other copies were delivered to the principal's office, who kept a personal copy to incongruously display among senior portraits and slowly gave the others out to teachers who expressed even mild interest. The theme was "A Night In Athens," and the overzealous students in leadership had spared no expense in ordering olive wreaths, faux marble pillars, white tablecloths, and food from the nearest Greek restaurant.

Beth found John wandering alone somewhere and insisted he go with her to the photo booth, where she smiled and John tried his hardest to not frown. As much as Beth was acting like a gracious host, insisting John meet all her friends and pose appropriately, this experience wasn't his. This wasn't what he was promised at the start of freshman year by an immature Regina: universal adoration and an arm that was exclusively his. Regina and Tom were inseparable, as usual, and walked decisively to greet everyone they knew. Perhaps this wasn't so bad after all; John had what many others did not, a friend who had apologized for her earlier outbursts, and who had never broken up with him. It had slipped John's mind that Regina and Tom's relationship was marked by stability, not outbursts, broken noses, and stormy affairs. Suddenly John wasn't thinking of Tom and Regina anymore, but of this clean, hard, limited person, who dealt in universal skepticism, and who leaned back jauntily just within the circle of his arm. Beth thought the same of him, even as she cast longing glances across the packed gallery to Behrooz, who was so absorbed in his craft he barely waved hello to her.

"It's important to treasure these memories while we can, John. We only get two shots at this. Next time, we'll undoubtedly have a professional DJ and Behrooz can take his rightful place by my side. But until then, I suppose this isn't a bad way to spend the evening, is it? Enjoy this—you can't repeat the past."

"Can't repeat the past?" John cried incredulously. "Why of course you can!"

"Very funny, John." But Beth's words reached John from a distance, as he was in his own dance hall now, somewhere quiet in a parallel universe. He wore a tuxedo with a red boutonnière, Beth wore a midnight-black dress. Some waltz was playing, a good one, maybe Shostakovich's second. One with a good rhythm he could appreciate—he had discovered that waltz one night while writing his The Great Gatsby essay, and it so enchanted him that he played it on repeat for hours until he finished the best essay he had ever written. It was just them there in John's dreamy landscape, one two three one two three one two three endlessly until John could no longer stand Beth's perfume and they had told each other everything they had ever wanted to say. The clock here ticked at a slower rate, and it was nothing John could hear over the one two three one two three one two three into infinity.

By the time John had come back to reality, he was not dancing in the reflected moonlight with his Daisy but really dancing the sirtaki with a large group of people, some of whom he had never seen before. Tom and Regina watched from a distance, and Juliet had finally convinced Frank to briefly join her on the dance floor, if only to serve as an example to the rest of them, and they led the crowd (despite Frank's professed disinterest, he had indeed practiced this with the other club members beforehand). This had its own good rhythm to it, and it took John's mind on a Mediterranean sojourn to azure seas and a lemony sun, where someone played the bouzouki in the background while he and Beth drank wine. John had never had wine before, but it seemed like the sort of indulgent thing people did when they were happy. They would then go swimming, and for once the water would be warm. This was even better than the waltz, maybe!

Frank had returned to his original duties after the sirtaki, thinking that needless nod to the prom theme more than enough school spirit for a night. Juliet still followed him, and he entertained their conversation and their one trip to the photo booth, but did not fixate upon them with any more attention than any other day; she was easy enough to keep at a distance with the promise that he'd still be at school on Monday, and then they could eagerly plan their next year. Just not now, he was busy, and unless she wanted to help him with his duties it would have to wait; OK, she did, but the conversation could still wait for another day. Tom had watched him all night, formulating a scheme that would be guaranteed to fix all his problems. Frank didn't like him much—that was as clear as day. Tom was a remarkably poor member of the inner circle, and he was well aware that he wasn't even in the innermost layer. But Tom did have one thing on Frank: despite Frank's superior looks, better charm, general intelligence, surprising physique, bilingualism, and so much more, Frank did not have a lake house.

"The lake? What do you even do there?" Frank asked while restocking the snack trays, laying out a tiled pattern of cheese and crackers next to the baba ganoush.

"We talk, play games, some of us even read," Tom trailed off with a minor hint of disdain, as if they were wasting what otherwise would be a fun experience. "You could even swim."

"PE was enough swimming for me."

"I'm sure you're not missing out, the water is cold."

"The cold never bothered me anyway," Frank responded, and Tom chuckled. "But I'll have to think about it. Who else is coming? I assume John and Regina at the very least?"

"Well, I'm sure you've heard plenty of gossip, but Beth and Juliet are also coming too. You'll balance out the genders."

"When you phrase it that way, that's an offer I can't refuse."

"It's settled then!" Tom proclaimed, reaching out to shake Frank's hand.

"And you aren't mad about the celery juice thing? You made a noble sacrifice."

"No, not at all, the past is the past," Tom assured him, and he walked away to find Regina before he was asked any more tough questions. Bringing a sixth person was a violation of tradition, but it wasn't as if he didn't have the room. Frank seemed like he would be a good houseguest, the type who would do their chores for them. Less work for him, Frank would think he was offered a peace offering, and he would gain more time to spend with Regina.

They danced long into the night, or really until ten, and all of the juniors left with little ceremony. This wasn't their time. Despite the fun they had, their main purpose in attending was to serve as a backdrop for the seniors. The seniors embraced, confessing secret love; some almost broke out in a fistfight in front of the building before Mr. T reminded them that he could take on all of them at once without a scratch himself; all of them swept themselves away in glitz and glamor and debauchery until they convinced themselves their high school experience was complete. There was still a month left, but to them, it was pure afterthought. Tests meant nothing. Final goodbyes meant barely more. Graduation was a ceremony to be dispatched swiftly, and few juniors attended. Frank had attended out of some lingering obligation to Pranav, and he wished him good luck in his future endeavors as Pranav did to him. But beyond those few exceptions, the juniors walked through that last month eagerly awaiting their turn at being on top. John passed by Heller once the day after graduation, when enough teachers remained on campus to keep the parking lots full even though the students were already on break. It looked feeble. Small. Completely unworthy of note, and John resolved to forget completely that he was still contractually obligated to attend for another year. He had vacation to look forward to, and even greater things than that. Tomorrow would be a new day.

Discussion Questions:

Compare the different club speeches and the rhetorical strategies they emphasize. Which speech is most effective? Also consider the musical number—if you were in the audience, what would this make you think?

Do you agree with Mrs. Huang that Frank and Juliet would make a good couple? What do you think motivates her opinion?

Is Juliet manipulating Frank? Is Frank manipulating Juliet?