"May, I hate to tell you this, but word got around about Trip's presence at that protest." Riley says on Monday morning as he types away on his computer, researching how the tide of public opinion has changed. "Apparently your dad's not well-liked around here. Trip, on the other hand, is more liked than ever."

"You're kidding," I mutter and look over his shoulder, a groan escaping my lips.

"There are two things I never kid about: my love for chocolate and poll numbers." Riley looks at me seriously. "We have our work cut out for us."

"How can they like him? He has no ideas, no substance, nothing." I complain and drop down in my chair. "I've been working my ass off these last few weeks to perfect my campaign and his numbers just rise by merit of who he is."

"May, he's the captain of the football team, the son of a business tycoon..." Riley begins, but I quickly interrupt him.

"But I'm the daughter of a politician." I point out blatantly.

"That's the point; he doesn't know how to run a political campaign, you do." Riley answers, authority dripping from his every word. "What he's been showing to the public is the facade he wears every day; it's not who he really is."

"Well, how do I figure out who he really is?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Trip isn't going to be how he really is in the public eye, but he will be his true self around the only people who won' judge him," Riley says, pausing for dramatic effect. "His friends." He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously; my face contorts in confusion. "His team mates, May, those are the only people who get to see the real Trip."

"So, what are you implying?" I ask, suspicion laced in my tone.

"Are you up for a little Mission Impossible?" Riley asks, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Riley," I say dangerously, my eyes daring him to stop joking around.

"Meet me at the gym around 4. I've got an idea that will ruin him."

~~~~~

It's four o'clock on the nose. I'm standing in the gym, pacing and checking my watch every few seconds. Almost fifteen minutes pass before I see Riley rushing into the gym. He looks out of breath and is holding a box under one arm. He leads me to an inconspicuous corner of the gym and sets his box down. It's filled with wires and walkie-talkies. I look up at Riley, his plan still an enigma to me.

"Sorry, I ran into a few issues when I tried to get these things from the audio-visual lab. The students would've given them to me no problem, but the Principal was in there for some sort of evaluation, so we had to figure out how to sneak the equipment out." Riley explains as he hands me some wires and a walkie-talkie.

"Please tell me what we're doing." I sigh and accept the equipment from him.

"Trip and the football guys are about to come back from practice. They'll be changing in the locker room and talking about whatever it is they talk about after practice. This is your one shot to catch Trip being his true self; it's one of your last chances to expose him to the public before the next round of voting."

"Where are you going with this, Riley?" I ask, looping the wire neatly around my wrist.

"You're going to record him in the act." Riley says as if it should be obvious.

"How? I can't exactly walk in there; that'll defeat the entire purpose of recording him without his knowledge." I point out; Riley waits for me to finish, so he can continue.

"The air ducts." Riley smirks and leads me over to the corner of the room, right underneath the large entrance to the air ducts. "You get in and crawl straight until you reach the end and then you turn left. If you take that tunnel to the end, you'll hit a screen that looks right over the boy's locker room. Trip's locker is right under the screen. You lay the microphone wires and then crawl out the same way you came."

"You want me to crawl in the air ducts, tape a microphone wire down and then leave?"

"Yes and then we'll reconvene at your house tonight to go over the footage." Riley says easily, implying his full confidence in the plan. He checks his watch and looks up at me. "They'll be back in five. Time to get in the ducts and crawl."

"How do you know so much about him and the ducts?" I ask as he helps to hoist me up. Thankfully, the ceilings aren't very high, so I make it up and into the ducts easily. I look down from the metal tunnel and see Riley beneath me, giving me a thumbs-up. I ask my question again and wait for his answer.

"You don't write the best gossip blog in the school without knowing how to get the best information." Riley shrugs and looks up at me with a grin.

"So, why aren't you up here getting the information?"

"It's your campaign, so you have to pull a little weight." Riley chuckles. "Now, get a move on before they come back." I roll my eyes and begin to crawl down the dusty metal tunnel that clangs every time I make a sudden movement. Walkie-talkie in one hand and the wire microphone in the other, I continue to crawl until I reach the end of the tunnel and find myself faced with a choice between left and right. I remember Riley's directions and turn left. After a few more seconds of crawling, I'm finally in front of the screen that leads to the boys' locker room. I prop myself up on my elbows and set down the materials Riley gave me.

The sounds of obnoxious chatter waft up from below me and ring in my ears. They seem excited about their prospects for Friday night; a combination of arrogance and hopefulness dominate their conversation. Once they tire of that topic, though, they give me exactly what I came here for. I turn the microphone on and anchor it right in front of the screen as Trip begins to talk about the girls at some party he went to over the weekend. Every fiber of my being is screaming in protest at his pig-like comments, but I force myself to maintain my composure and not give away my place. I continue to hold up the microphone as I fish a 'vote for May' sticker out of my pocket. I tape the microphone down in the prime position, the sticker looking back at me and everyone else like a warning. Don't mess with May.

I lean back against the metal of the air duct and pull out the walkie-talkie, ready to tell Riley that the mission was accomplished. I'm about to turn the dial when I hear my name being mentioned down below me. I crawl on my elbows and crane my neck, so I can listen. There's chuckling below me as one of his friends pats him on the shoulder.

"She's crazy, man." One of the guys shouts, tossing a dirty jersey at Trip. He laughs and swats it away.

"Crazy, but totally do-able." Trip grins and I feel my heart skip a few beats. What the hell did he just say?

"I bet you twenty bucks you could get with that before the end of the election." One of his other friends says as Trip pulls a sweatshirt over his head.

"Fifty and I'll take you on." Trip says, holding out his hand. His friend shakes it and I feel my blood boil. Trip McCan, you just signed your own death warrant. I feel my face blush red as I put another sticker on top of the microphone, just to make sure it stays in its place. I crawl back exactly the way I came and find the empty hole right above the gym floor. I drop down and stomp over to the section of the bleachers Riley is hiding behind. I take out his earbuds and he looks up at me like a deer caught in headlights. He exhales deeply as soon as he registers that it's only me. Once everything is as it was, we walk back to my campaign headquarters in silence.

~~~~~

"I'm gonna kill him." Riley says a week after my excursion in the air ducts. I look up from my computer, tilting my head in confusion. "Trip McCan can go die in a hole."

"So, you got around to listening to Trip's telling conversations behind the locker room doors?"

"Fifty and I'll take you on," Riley says, mocking Trip's bet about getting with me. "What an ass hat. We are going to ruin him, May; he's not going to know what hit him."

"I can feel an attack ad coming on." I chorus, drawing the attention of the rest of my campaign team.

"It's already in development, my friend."Riley huffs as he pulls a document up on his computer. "It's going to start with a cheesy piano riff and then go straight into a 'Who is Trip' montage and then we'll use the comments as evidence of his character. It'll end with a shift in color and a 'Vote for May' montage about how you'll advocate for girls in this school."

"Will it ruin him?" I ask as I look over the outline.

"I bet you twenty bucks he'll drop out." Riley smirks, holding out his hand.

"Fifty and I'll take you on." I grin, shaking his hand. Oh, Trip, I hope you have a receipt for that new ego you just bought 'cause I'm about to take you down.

~~~~~

I walk into school the next day, looking out for signs of a shift in the political wind. Nothing. Everything seems the same as it was before I released my attack ad on Trip. People still pass me by, few waving and smiling as they continue on to their classes. No one new offers a greeting; no populars or wannabes, just the same girls and guys who were already voting for me. I sigh and stop in my campaign headquarters to see Riley. He looks up from his computer and smiles, patting the seat next to him. I sigh and drop down next to him.

"What's wrong, Madame President?" He asks, shoving my shoulder a little.

"Nobody has even mentioned the attack ad to me. No one new has waved or told me they now see right through Trip. It's the same way it was before." I frown and look at Riley, hoping for some words of encouragement from my campaign consultant and closest friend. He bites his lip and turns away, typing on his computer. "Riley, this is where you say they probably haven't seen it yet, or they're still trying to figure out what to believe. You're supposed to say something." I exhale deeply and run my hand through my hair.

"Oh, May, they've seen it; everyone has seen it, there's no questioning that." Riley begins, turning his computer so I can see what's in the screen."Over two thousand views since we posted it last night. All the comments are bashing Trip too, but they're not the people you were trying to win over; it's the same people you've already won over."

"Why do you sound like you've got more bad news to tell me?" I look at him, prompting him to tell me what he's hiding.

"Look for yourself." He says, setting the computer in my lap. I slide my finger over the mouse pad and find an Instagram post staring back at me. It's the most recent campaign post on Trip's campaign page, posted only last night. It's a screenshot from my attack ad, the part that reads 'Who is Trip?'. I read the caption beneath it and feel my blood boil, my fist clenching in my lap. Riley looks at me nervously, gauging my reaction.

"Ladies, get to know who Trip really is while on a date with him. Pledge to vote for Trip McCan at any lunch this week and schedule a date with him in the upcoming weeks." I read the post, my tone growing more incredulous by the second.

"Romantic, isn't it?" Riley jokes and takes the laptop back from me, sensing my growing anger.

"You've got to be kidding me; a systematic dating schedule? How stupid and desperate do you have to be to actually sign up to go on a date with that arrogant ass?" I exclaim, rubbing my temples. "He's making a mockery of this entire election and yet, everyone is still wrapped around his little finger."

"Not everyone, May, you still have most of the other social groups voting for you." Riley points out.

"The one social group I need to convince is standing in line to sign up for a date with Khaki-Casanova." I mutter and stand up. "We're going to put a stop to this." The bell rings and I grab my bag, heading towards the door. I step out into the crowd of students rushing to get to class. I walk confidently to my AP English class and take my normal seat in the back of the class. Trip, I'm glad you're filling your schedule with shoulders to cry on because this election will be mine if it's the last thing I do.