She might not particularly want to win, maybe didn’t even need to win, but she wanted and needed something: to beat Leo.
She snapped a photo just as Tad’s hand met Leo’s. Just as Leo faced her, recognition dawning . . . of Angeline, her phone, this moment . . . captured.
And about to go viral.
* * *
Acedia Red and Blue @TheRedandBlueAcedia • 10m
Breaking News: Sugar and Spice, All’s Not So Nice for Quinn Campaign, a special online report: http://www.achsma.com/redandbluenewspaper #AcediaHigh #Frankengirls #Donuts
12 retweets 55 likes
***BREAKING NEWS***
Sugar and Spice, All’s Not So Nice
for Quinn Campaign
by Cathleen Quinn, Editor in Chief
A donut breakfast sponsored by student council presidential candidate Leo Torres backfired this morning when he was seen enjoying a re-creation of what’s known in the school as the “Frankengirls.”
“Sprinkle nipples,” Maxine Chen, senior, said, holding up her phone. Displayed on her screen was the Instagram feed belonging to the second candidate for student council president, Angeline Quinn. At the top was a photograph taken before first period of donuts arranged to resemble the female form. “This is what Leo Torres thinks of girls at this school. How’s this for something sweet, Torres: LGBTQIA+ Alliance and Girl Coders Club officially endorse Angeline Quinn for president.”
When informed of the endorsements, Quinn was pleased but said bigger issues are in play.
“This is supposedly a new era for women, but still this ‘boys will be boys’ culture exists here at Acedia. As evidenced by the administration sitting on its thumbs and not reprimanding even a single person involved. Perhaps it has something to do with Friday night’s game?”
Quinn’s insinuation that no action had been taken against the male students clearly seen in the Frankengirls pastry photo because they are first-string football players has been gaining strength online.
With comments pouring in, Quinn’s Instagram post has become a bastion of #MeToo versus male privilege.
Pigskin matters more than being in a woman’s skin! #MoreThanOurParts
Playing with your food stopped being cute ten years ago, you sickos.
Can’t these chicks—sorry, I mean, ladies—take it as it’s meant: flattery, pure flattery.
Quick! Someone eat the evidence! I’m in for half a Goldberg!
Such comments continue to appear. For every outraged sentiment there is a matching one suggesting that not only are the girls in the school overreacting but that Quinn is pandering, taking advantage of the moment to secure votes.
“That’s entirely wrong. This isn’t just some Battle of the Exes game for me. How we’re treated matters to me. How stereotypically sexist can you be? Dudes do math better? Ask Leo if he really thinks that’s true.”
Quinn appeared to want to say more on this but refused to elaborate. Instead she shifted direction. “To those who tell us to lighten up, I say, imagine how it feels to get up in class to write on the board or go to the bathroom and think: all these guys are checking out my [buttocks]. Sizing me up, choosing what donut hole makes the perfect boob. I know these guys, some are my friends, some are . . . were . . . more than that. It’s not just degrading but a total betrayal of those friendships. Two-faced. They should be ashamed of themselves, especially Leo.”
Torres declined to comment, but one of the students involved in this morning’s incident, who spoke only under the condition of anonymity, said, “Yeah, Torres laughed. Who wouldn’t? It’s a freakin’ Franken-donut. But that’s all he did. It was Marcus and the rest of us—them. I mean, them.”
We reached out to Principal Schwartz, who gave us an unofficial statement declaring that while the administration is looking into the incident, it remains unclear as to what if any school rule had been violated. “That the donuts represented female students at the school is an assertion made solely by Ms. Quinn.”
That may be the case, but the majority of those commenting on Quinn’s post believe her, including a celebrity.
Evelyn Lee, New York Times bestselling author and founder of the Evelyn’s Epic Everyday brand, wrote: “Well done. The only way one hears is if others speak.”
Quinn is talking. The question is whether talk translates into votes.
13
When Cat Gets Lucky
16 DAYS TO THE ELECTION
Cat strode into the newsroom waving a check with a shamrock on the front. “How do you feel about pots of gold?”
Ravi spun his chair. “Pro, always.”
“Luck o’ the Harbor.” Cat plunked the check down on the table. “Our new advertiser.”
“Ah,” Grady said. “Must have been all those scones I bought. Baristas there love me.”
“Uh-huh.” Cat raised an eyebrow. “Must have been.”
“Then again . . .” Grady’s tone lost its boasting edge. “Your article on the Franken-donuts got nice traction on Twitter. You really are doing a great job at drumming up interest in StuCo, Chief. Readers want a follow-up. Maybe something more multimedia this time?”
“No,” Cat said.
“I’m ready,” Grady said.
“Not yet.”
His large eyeglasses fell down the bridge of his nose as he hung his head. “But, Cat . . . the big stories like the Frankengirls are the only ones anyone reads. If I don’t write one, no one’s going to know who I am to follow me.”
“That’s not why we’re reporters. We cover the stories, we aren’t the stories.”
“Not according to my cousin.” Grady showed Cat a picture of a tall, more fleshed-out version of himself next to Mark Wahlberg at a Boston movie premiere with And that’s news to you written along the bottom. “His social’s as big as what he’s covering. People are following him for him.”
Like Angeline. Who was the furthest thing from a reporter. “Your cousin runs social media for . . . what? Is that the local TV news? That’s fluff. If that’s your goal, you’re in the wrong place.”
“But there’s no BuzzFeed equivalent here.” Grady lowered his phone. “Don’t you want more reach than this?”
Outside the newsroom, Angeline led a group of sophomore and junior girls down the hall. “Normally you’d have to submit a question like that via the appropriate form on my website,” Angeline said. “But since you’re my constituents and I know you’re all fluttering your wings . . .”