Tracy Flick Can't Win (Tracy Flick #2) (32)

But come on. It was 2018—almost 2019—and five white people was the best we could do?

It was embarrassing.





Nate Cleary


We did the easy part first. Principal Weede said that his secretary had spoken to Vito Falcone, and that Vito had promised to attend the Induction Ceremony if he was selected for the Hall of Fame.

“In light of this excellent news,” he said, “I propose a vote on the candidacy of Mr. Falcone. All in favor?”

He raised his hand, and Kyle and I did the same. After a brief hesitation, Dr. Flick joined the majority, followed a moment later by Lily, though she didn’t look too happy about it.

“All righty.” Principal Weede nodded his approval. “The Committee is unanimous. One down, one to go. Our next candidate is William Finley, the author. Did anyone else have a chance to look at his book?”

Kyle and I shook our heads. Dr. Flick said she’d skimmed it, but hadn’t been too impressed. Lily said she’d stopped after the first chapter.

“It was too confusing. It just kept skipping around. I didn’t know whose head I was in.”

“That’s a common modernist technique,” Principal Weede explained. “I’m not sure it’s aged very well. I guess that’s an ixnay on Mr. Finley.”

We bogged down after that. Everyone felt bad for James Haggerty, but not bad enough to put him in the Hall of Fame. Kelly Harbaugh did a little better. Weede and Kyle thought she’d be a refreshing choice, but Lily and Flick disagreed, on the grounds that it would send the wrong message to the girls of Green Meadow, what with Kelly being so focused on makeup and talking in that weird whispery voice. It came down to me—and like I said, fuck her—so she didn’t get a majority, either.

“That leaves us with Keezer.” Principal Weede made a sour face. “Personally, I’m not crazy about the idea of honoring a car salesman.”

Nobody else was, either, so we just sat there and stared at one another.





Lily Chu


I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass, especially so close to the holidays, but I didn’t want to be a coward, either, so I forced my hand into the air.

“Yes, Lily?” Principal Weede gave me a sweet smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering about Reggie Morrison.”

His smile disappeared. “What about him?”

“Um, I know the nomination came in late, but I did some research, and it’s true—all the articles say he was just as good as Vito Falcone. They were both All-State and they both got big college scholarships. And Reggie scored more touchdowns. He still holds the school record. So it seems like it’s only fair—”

“Reggie never made it to the NFL,” Nate pointed out.

“I know,” I said. “But when they were here—”

“Reggie’s a little… controversial,” Principal Weede told me. “I don’t know if you know this, but he assaulted a police officer.”

“The cop was off duty,” I said. “And the charges were dropped, right?”

“It was a big mess, Lily.” Principal Weede checked with Mr. Dorfman. “I really don’t think we want to revisit all that, do we?”

“Not this year,” Mr. Dorfman agreed. “I think we should probably stick to our list.”

I glanced at Dr. Flick, hoping for a little support, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“All right,” I said. “Whatever.”





Tracy Flick


That was the last thing we needed, two football players instead of one.





Kyle Dorfman


I really didn’t care about the second person. We had Vito in the bag and that was all that mattered. The second person was a footnote. But I also didn’t want to sit there for the rest of the afternoon.

“I hate to say it,” I said, “but it’s gotta be Keezer. Whisper Girl’s too weird, the Vietnam kid’s dead, and no one gives a crap about the writer, so we’re just gonna have to bite the bullet.”





Jack Weede


I’d met Matt Keezer a few times—he was one of those unavoidable people in Green Meadow—and I couldn’t stand him. You couldn’t talk to the guy for five minutes without hearing about his luxury box at MetLife Stadium, or his vintage Porsche convertible. And I hated his stupid billboards; they always featured his smarmy face and a little thought bubble that said something like Life’s too short to drive a boring car or Get a new lease on summer. Matt Keezer was one bullet I was not going to bite. I was just about to say so when Diane poked her head into the room, the way she always did when I had a meeting that looked like it might run a little long.

“Ten-minute warning,” she said, and I couldn’t believe how blind I’d been.





Tracy Flick


At first I didn’t understand what Jack was up to.

“Ms. Blankenship,” he said. “How long have you worked here?”

“Too long,” she said. “Twenty-eight years.”

“Wow.” Jack gave a little whistle of surprise, though he was well aware of Diane’s work history. “You must have been young when you started.”