Peter Pumpkin Goes on a Holiday

By Peter Nanra

As pumpkins mature, their relations with others continually change. Existing ones are re-defined, some

completely lost, and new friendships are made. And what better way to make new friends than to

travel ov

• Language: English
• Publisher: Global Summit House
• Release date: Jul 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781649453815

Peter Nanra

Peter Nanra was born in Leicester, England, and lives in Vancouver, Canada. He earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of British Columbia, and he views reading as a key element in the education and development of children. He is also the author of Peter Pumpkin Goes Trick-or-Treating.

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Peter Pumpkin Goes on a Holiday

Peter Nanra

Copyright © Peter Nanra.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-64945-378-5 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-64945-379-2 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-64945-381-5 (E-book Edition)

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

Phone Number: 347-901-4929 or 347-901-4920

Email: [e-mail]

Global Summit House

www.globalsummithouse.com

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter 1: The Plan

Chapter 2: The Outcome

Chapter 3: Ms. Pumpkin

Chapter 4: A Cruise

Chapter 5: Jack O. Lantern

Chapter 6: Life in the Patch

Chapter 7: Ghosts

Chapter 8: Election Day

Chapter 9: The Living Dead

Chapter 10: The Substitute

Chapter 11: A Salt Allergy

Chapter 12: The Initiative

Chapter 13: Victory

Chapter 1

The Plan

The flashes were often hazy. Quite blurry at times. Like a frothy film had covered my eyes. Most of the visions were like that. Thru out the whole day. Seen one after the other. A series of still images as opposed to the usual live constant stream of moving mot ions.

Not to an annoyance though. It hadn’t reached that level. But enough for me to wonder if I had slept properly the night before. Recalling details of the day was difficult. Everything happened so fast. I didn’t even recall waking up that morning, to be honest. And I had difficulty deciphering any color. Not even able to recognize the brightness of my own orange pumpkin skin.

My first images were of leaving my house, to a glorious summer day. I remember that. The sun was shining. With its full force. The birds were singing. The vampires were snoring. And I felt nothing but positive vibrations on my stem. I was in a fabulous mood. Nothing would spoil the day, I thought. I was confident that all would go according to plan. I was filled with eternal optimism.

I didn’t recall opening my eyes, nor my morning washing. I didn’t stay to chat with my siblings. Not that I recalled. I probably wanted to set off as quickly as pumpkinly possible.

There were gaps in time that I couldn’t account for. Nor explain. I travelled along column TS01 with my friends, when I didn’t even recall greeting them in the first place. And saying hello. It was as if I woke one second, only to find myself walking and talking with Paris and Paige the next.

I remembered thinking that it was prudent, that they were punctual. And on time. And I didn’t have to wait for them. Or go chasing after them. Wasting precious minutes, in what would be a very hectic day. And Piper, Pauline and Pasha were present and accounted for, standing outside the arena doors, waiting as I stepped inside the rather large and spacious building.

All the volunteers were present. They didn’t need instruction that morning. It had already been provided. They knew what to do, and where to be stationed. It would be an exciting day, to be sure. For everyone. It was evident on all our faces that morning. The energy. The anticipation. That was clear. When my vision and senses were spot on.

My main responsibility…well I should say the collective responsibility, was to ensure the pumpkin elections would be carried out according to the plan. That our patch would successfully choose three new elected elders, that would volunteer in the overall management of our patch. And serve on the Council.

But by plan, I also meant to convey another message. Plan wasn’t even the correct word. That would indicate that I was trying to fix the outcome of the election. No. By plan, I meant to say my hope. The outcome ending with Parker and Penelope chosen as two of our newest elected elders. The start of their journey. Our journey. With the hope that one of them would be chosen as the Elected Elder One. Either of them. To act as the leader of our pumpkin patch. Why? Because that was the right thing to do. It was the best course of action. To ensure that our patch would not only survive but prosper. Because Parker was the smartest, most intelligent pumpkin ever born. He was simply the most qualified candidate for the position. And Penelope was the most passionate and caring and dedicated. I could go on and on about either of them.

My responsibility was complete with numerous details. I could go on and on about those, too. An endless list of the most onerous of tasks. Including the organization and setting up of the voting venue. The arena. Setting up the tables. Validating the ballots. Which meant re confirming the list of candidates. Soliciting for volunteers and assigning their duties. Selecting the security guards to be deployed. Confirming the elder lists. The ones permitted to vote. The ones who had completed their Trick or Treating responsibilities. Handing out the voting cards to each eligible voter. Papyrus assisted me with the designing of the cards.

Even ensuring pumpkins voted. To an extent. Or had the proper chance to, anyways. Perhaps to encourage it. To at least, ensure that everyone was afforded the time and space to cast their ballot. That they were kept safe and free from harm. From any unwarranted persuasion. That after the vote, the ballot results would be revealed and counted. And then, hopefully announcing that Parker Pumpkin and Penelope Pumpkin had received the required votes to be chosen as elected elders. All the co-ordination. And organization. The preparation. Tracking every detail. Monitoring every situation. Correcting any possible fault that may have arose. I had to verify and validate the whole thing.

With the volume of tasks, the process required my complete and undivided attention. I had no intention of complicating matters. Because if it was done right, then the process would be very simple. It would be like baking a cake. As easy as that. But with exotic ingredients.

I could hardly recall anything that my friends said that morning. The first voice I heard was Parkers. He was standing just inside the arena doors, greeting each pumpkin as they entered.

Hello, he said.

Hi! I excitedly replied. I greeted him with a nice cute grin. And offered him the warmest hug.

He looked so dashing. And neat. So confident. He greeted my friends with hugs as well. He could be so pleasant and outgoing. Although Pauline didn’t accept the hug. She didn’t always like to be touched. Knowing this, Parker backed away two steps, and he bowed in front of her. Bending his head downwards, with his left knee almost touching the ground. His right arm positioned crosswise along his stomach. He was so respectful. He was all quality.

He was sure to pass me another smile, when he arose. When he looked into my eyes. He stood strong and poised, with his back so straight. With his chin up in the air. He seemed prepared for the days’ events.

Maybe it was the pressure of it all. The stress. The running around with so much activity that I couldn’t explain my exact whereabouts, at any point in time. With only the pictures to remind me. It was as if I would check out. In an instance. Like when I realized that Parker had disappeared almost as soon as we had met. He had vanished from my side in a heartbeat. I would have loved to have spent the day with him. On this historic day.

But I couldn’t. I had to attend to my duties. I inspected the whole arena. Every nook and cranny. Verifying the set up. Accounting for everything. Like the positioning of the thirteen ballot tables. They were situated at the front, near the stage. The foldable wooden ones.

Each ballot table required the proper items. Like a ballot box. With a hole at the top, where pumpkins would deposit their vote. With a minimum of two volunteers present at each table, to ensure the vote casting process would go smooth. They were chosen last week. I was involved in that, picking out the most honorable of pumpkins.

And there were voting tables, where pumpkins could sit and mark their choices in secret. They had to be free from clutter. And arranged strategically, away from the ballot tables. To allow pumpkins their privacy when they indicated their choices. I recalled spotting enough marking utensils at each one.

I handed out the elder lists to the volunteers. The elder lists were a compiling of all the eligible voters in the patch. The names split out over thirteen sheets. With each list designated for each ballot table. I retained the master elder list in my sac for safe keeping. It was the official one. The listing of all the eligible voters.

All the volunteers were eager. Although when Pickford started coughing profusely and couldn’t control himself, I had no choice but to send him home. Much to his disappointment. Nothing was caught in his throat. That wasn’t the problem. And so, I thought he must have come down with something. Dryness. Or fatigue. I couldn’t afford a pandemic in the arena that day. With ill pumpkins. Every precaution had to be taken. A substitute was introduced. Polianna arrived with ample time to spare.

And other than that incident, which was handled efficiently, the pre vote preparations were spot on. Everything was in order. There were no significant issues to report.

I had made a note to myself, to watch the grand time clock turn to nine that morning, but I must have forgotten. If I hadn’t, I surely would have done so. I must have forgotten to orate my pre election speech to the volunteers as well. Because the next image I could recall was me, outside. Strolling along the line of pumpkins waiting to vote. Hundreds and hundreds. Lined up in an orderly fashion. Which was exactly what I had expected, of course. Security guards were present, for assistance. If required.

Priscilla was the first one in line. Then Patti. Then Podrick. They were all determined to fulfill their rightful duty. I greeted as many pumpkins as I possibly could. Making small talk mostly. It was a festive mood. It was such an exciting day. I reiterated to them, that they didn’t need to have their voting cards marked. That they could mark their candidates of choice when they arrived at a voting table. They could have already, if they wanted to. Marked their candidates of choice. But it wasn’t necessary. They all listened intently. I’m sure they knew anyways.

When I returned to the main door, I motioned for Papi to allow the pumpkins inside. To let the voting begin.

I kept an eye on Petal at first. He knew what to do. Which ballot table to approach after he marked his choice. The ballot table number was indicated on their voting card. There were huge orange signs over each ballot table with the corresponding number. Paris and Piper were prepared to offer the assistance, if it was required. Escorting pumpkins to the correct table.

Pauline and Paige’s main responsibility was to watch the ballot table volunteers. As a security check. To ensure they weren’t acting in on any self-interested vote stuffing scheme or other improper acts. Talking to the voters was prohibited. The volunteers shouldn’t have attempted to influence any voters, with their own personal views and opinions. This was called volunteer quality control.

The voting was supposed to be private and confidential. No pumpkin would know which candidate any specific pumpkin voted for. We called it a secret ballot. And it was all voluntary. There was no mandatory requirement to vote in a patch election. It was encouraged all pumpkins did though. It was a great chance to express themselves, and to offer opinions on who should guide us. Making decisions respective to the patch. For me too. I would vote. It was an honor to do so.

The voting would continue throughout the day. The doors would stay open until five in the evening. The vast time span would allow all pumpkins the opportunity.

I stayed in the middle of the arena, mostly observing the drama as it unfolded. Ensuring the process went smooth. Ensuring the traffic was free flowing. Answering questions from the volunteers. I kept myself active and busy. And alert. The morning had just flown by. At around noon, Panache remarked that she had at least fifty completed ballots from her table. Table number three.

I only had to intervene on a couple of occasions. Just after lunchtime, at ballot table number five, Pinkova asked if Panyin could re vote. She said that Panyin had changed his mind. After he had already made his mark and pushed the card thru the ballot slot. I had to deny the request. Panyin looked confused after Pinkova relayed the message. But I couldn’t be worried about that.

And then later in the afternoon, Pazos questioned me. Asking why there weren’t any fruits and vegetables laid out. For nutrition and energy. For all the participants. Voters included. I had to take a few moments to explain to him that the election wasn’t like a picnic. I wasn’t a catering service. And I had no intention of cleaning up after them.

In the late afternoon, Parker suggested I vote. He had vanished from my mind altogether but had returned. Ready to vote. And he thought that we would walk to our respective ballot tables and vote at the same time. For good luck. He was always so sweet. Always the romantic.

He even held my hand for a portion of our short journey. I stood by his side at his ballot table and watched him mark his card. I didn’t see him make his mark, obviously. There was a lot of privacy afforded at the voting tables. He pushed his card into the ballot box with great pride.

I did the same. It was a no brainer decision for me. Parker and Penelope were the two most qualified candidates. I didn’t need to review the full listing. All nineteen of them. I wasn’t required to make a third choice. And so, I didn’t.

I was a bit perturbed with Pompeo. She insisted I state my name clearly. And signed the registry. Which was fine. I expected it. But I didn’t really need to. Pompeo knew who I was.

I didn’t know why Pompeo was there at all. I didn’t recall choosing her. I thought her interest was in gardening, to be honest.

And I re met with Parker in the middle of the arena. In between the voting tables. He was in a terrific mood. So was I. It was such a special moment for us. We embraced and hugged. Life was so wonderful.

When the grand time clock had reached at exactly five o’clock, I shouted Stop!. That was my next visual. I ordered the ballot boxes closed and sealed. The arena doors needed to be closed without delay. And they were.

Well not exactly. I saw Peyote running for the doors from quite a distance. Wait! he shouted. He was very eager to cast his ballot. He appeared just before the doors were fully closed. I had no choice but to instruct Papi to hold on for a split second. Peyote had known Parker for many years. He had the most admiration for him. I didn’t want to deny him the opportunity. To deny him the chance to help our patch. It wouldn’t have been fair to him. Nor to Parker.

But I was adamant to seal the doors right after he entered. I had to deny Pence, Palawski and Para. And Parmar. It was unfortunate for them. But it was their fault. They should have arrived sooner. They had no excuses. Everyone knew the election voting would end precisely at five.

Then why did you let Peyote in? I heard Parmar say. Or maybe he said that. Maybe he didn’t. I had my back turned. And it was one of those many instances where time drifted forwards without a chance to embrace the moment. It was difficult to properly hear him. His voice a mere echo in the wind. In any case, he had no right to complain. Or be upset.

I was exhausted. But as tiring as it was, and to have experienced the tremendous load lift off my shoulders that the voting had been completed within the proper timeframe, the day was only half over. There was still plenty of work to accomplish. I had to re energize myself.

I dismissed the volunteers who worked at the tables. Their services were no longer required. I thanked them for a job well done, obviously. Even the security guards would leave. The whole crew. They all needed a break as well. Including Papi. And new security guards arrived. Not as many. There was no need. The new ones didn’t need to monitor any pumpkin activity. Alerting me of any suspicious movements. And shenanigans. Any pumpkin, who may have been planning a sabotage. Or create an unnecessary moment, of some kind. They only had to sweep the arena clean of unauthorized pumpkins. And monitor the main arena doors. To not allow anyone inside.

Not to imply that any pumpkin would want to ruin the election. That would be silly. If there was sabotage going on. During an election under my watch.

Precisely at seven o’clock, I ordered the ballot boxes to be moved to a counting table. Near my volunteer station. In plain sight for me to see. And I held each of the elders lists in my hands. All thirteen of them. And I quickly scanned thru them. Searching for nothing, in particular. It was out of curiosity more than anything. And I counted twenty-three. Twenty-three pumpkins who didn’t vote. Including Pringle, who had been given as an offering, just a short time ago. His name hadn’t yet been removed from the master elder list.

Which was fine. It wasn’t my intention to pass judgement on anyone. I didn’t have an opinion to think if the number was too high or too low. If anything, the number could be used as a comparison. To detect a trend. To compare twenty-three against the previous elections’ absentees. Which I had no knowledge of anyways. I did spot a few names on the list that were a surprise. Thinking it odd how some pumpkins chose not to vote. I was interested to know who they were, and their reasons.

But I couldn’t be worried about that.

I unsealed the ballot boxes with my special key. All thirteen boxes. And the cards were emptied out onto the counting table. And we began to reveal the results. To verify which candidates would be victorious. In all their glory.

I wanted to keep our chatter to a minimum. I didn’t want to mess about. Waste time. I had designs to fulfill my task as efficiently as possible.

Piper examined the first ballot. This voter had checked off two names. The voter cast their ballot for Pele and Parker. Good, I thought. A vote for Parker.

I retrieved the master record count sheet. It was named the Big Board for short. The board was paper. Very hard, thick paper. Cardboard like, almost. It was a listing of all nineteen candidates’ names, with places to mark the number of votes received. I had laid it out on an adjacent table. I handed a pen marker to Paris. She made one mark for Pele, and one mark for Parker.

Pauline flipped over a second ballot. She handed it to Piper, who read out the three names. Paris made the check marks on the Big Board. Paige ensured Paris made the correct marks. Pasha watched them. And I watched them all, including Pasha. The process was very detailed and meticulous. It went very slow. An odd conclusion, to be sure. Considering I had no grasp of time at all. Only referring to the grand time clock when I thought it was necessary.

I was careful not to tally the votes on the Big Board, as the process unfolded. It was difficult. After all, I was in and out of my mind all day. Trying to focus. Trying to account for my time. And I had to keep my eyes on the volunteers. But it was impossible not to notice that Parker had received a lot of votes. I could tell, just by listening to Piper. After the first fifty or so recorded ballots, Parker had received more votes than anyone. If the trend continued, he would be well on his way. Pele and Penelope had received a considerable number as well. But I would have needed to move closer to the Big Board, if I wanted to do an accurate, detailed assessment. The results seemed favorable though. Which was good. Parker seemed secure. And Penelope had a fighting chance.

By nine o’clock, we had turned over more than half the cards. I concluded we were ahead of schedule. Our pace was faster than my expectations. And so, due to this, and because I was getting hungry, I called for a dinner break. Which was met by a small round of applause. I thought it was warranted. We had been working non-stop since the early morning. I thought it was a good idea for a temporary reflection and allow everyone to relax our eyes away from all the cards. And counting. And projecting the winners.

Parker had clearly separated himself from the others. It seemed a foregone conclusion that he was now an elected elder. Any stress and doubts I had about that prediction had vanished. The battle would be for second and third place. Between Penelope, Pele and Pavol.

Our dinner break didn’t last long. We had the security guards bring us something from the dining hall. Paris talked about… well I wasn’t sure. It was one of those unstable time periods. When time and thoughts just passed by in a heartbeat. I was sure it was only small talk. Only to occupy ourselves while we ate. We wanted to get back to work. I wasn’t even sure what I ate. I didn’t taste anything. But I must have eaten something. I was hungry but sated afterwards.

I had the volunteers switch duties after dinner. More as a change of pace, than anything. To ensure we all kept our focus. And that we remained alert. Piper now pulled the cards. Paris did the reading. And Pauline did the recording on the Big Board. Pasha continued as previously. As well as I. Obviously. My duties didn’t need to change.

What about this one? The voter didn’t mark off any names, noted Paris.

Aw! I thought. Strange. Very strange. It could be a protest vote, I said.

That type of vote was rare. But it was known to happen. That the voter wasn’t satisfied with the quality of candidates. And didn’t feel comfortable attaching their name to any one candidate. Unable to decide. Yet they still felt the need to exercise their right to vote. It was a non-committal issue. It was cheeky, to be sure.

But I wasn’t required to question anyone’s beliefs. Nor their politics. Nor their confidence level in the candidates. Whether anyone was competent enough to lead us or not. I had no opinion on that. It wasn’t my role. Besides, this pumpkin had obviously never met Parker. Or surely Parker would have received the vote. It might not even have been their fault. To not vote. If they really hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him. To have never witnessed his standard. It would have been very frustrating for the voter.

That ballot was dismissed.

What about this one? I can’t tell, asked Paris.

The markings are unclear. Very faint, Piper said, after she leant forward into Paris’ face. Getting closer to the ballot.

Pasha took hold of the ballot and examined it in more detail. She was forced to light an extra candle to fully examine the markings. How strong they were. To determine if a vote was really cast for Pavol.

It’s very unclear. There is a mark. I can see it. But it’s so feint, she explained.

What does that mean? How strong does the mark need to be? Just because it’s feint, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. The mark doesn’t need to be of a required strength. Or does it? asked Pauline.

That was a good question. I wondered if I should have answered it. Or to let the volunteers decide on their own.

In the end, Pasha decided to put the ballot aside. For later examination. That a decision would be made at the more appropriate time. That we should press onwards, and not waste any unnecessary time. I agreed with her. I nodded to her and acknowledged her suggestion.

Later we found another ballot that had four markings. That ballot had to be nullified. That was an easy decision. Pasha was quick on her feet, to interpret the rule correctly. A vote for four or more candidates would be invalid. Three was the maximum.

When we finished the initial recording of all the ballots, we were forced to re examine a total of seven ballots that had been set aside. For later examination.

The one with the multiple marked names, and the one with the zero marked names had to be rejected. Outright. Including one that had all nineteen candidates marked.

The other four ballots required more attention. We had to re examine each one more carefully. Each posed a different situation. In instances where the markings were unclear, one of our solutions or models, was to determine the voter’s intent. What did the voter want? Was it obvious for whom they had voted? That was the central question.

The ballot that had the feint marking was allowed. The one Pasha had examined under the extra light. We all agreed that the intention of the voter was clear. They should have pressed further down on the utensil. Applying a stronger force. It was sloppy, to be sure. A very lazy attempt. It was as if the marker had run out of power. At the most crucial time.

There was another ballot that had only one diagonal line. The voters were encouraged to mark an ‘X’ within the allotted circle, next to the candidates’ name. But this ballot only had one of the lines. It was an incomplete marking. Pasha accepted it. She made the argument that the voter may not have known the rules. It could have been a first-time voter.

Paris and Pauline argued that a line was not a full mark. But only a half mark. And a full mark of the X was required. But were unsure themselves. And so, in the end, they ceded to Pasha.

I would have rejected it, to be honest. This election had no room for sloppiness. The ability to be prepared. To know the rules and requirements. Too ignorant to seek explanation or confirmation, if they had voted properly. Of any kind. From anyone. On how to make the correct mark. And it could have been interpreted as a protest vote. The voter thinking that the candidate was only half worthy of the position, but not enough to receive their full support.

But it wasn’t my role to interpret votes. Only to ensure the process of our decision making was done properly. And since Pasha’s reasoning was proper, I didn’t step out of my grooves.

A third ballot with questionable motives was also accepted. The voter placed the X’s directly over the candidates’ names. Three of them. And not in the provided circles, as instructed. The ballot could have been rejected outright. Afterall, there was no X in the circle. But the volunteers assessed the voters’ intentions as genuine. And that the voter may have understood to place the X over the names. I thought that was a wild stretch of imagination as a reason to accept the ballot. I wasn’t so convinced.

Pasha called for the PERB. The Pumpkin Election Rule Book. Which was always an option to assist in decision making. It could be very helpful.

And we found a similar case in the practical examples section. It had been documented. A precedent had shown that such a vote could be accepted.

The voter had made such a large X a few years ago, that the X was only inside a part of the circle. It covered mostly the candidates name. A picture of the ballot was depicted. And that vote was accepted. Obviously, the election chief at the time, interpreted their mandate to decide on the outcome of the election and ignore the rule. Which clearly stated the X must be drawn inside the boundaries of the circle. Although the word boundary was omitted from the PERB. Even still, I would have rejected it with little deliberation. But Pasha was more sympathetic. Citing this example and assessing the voters’ intentions, she accepted it. Which was fine. Again, I was more concerned with the process that we followed. And referring to the PERB was always a good idea.

And a fourth was rejected. It had dots and other odd symbols and characters inside the circles. It was very silly, to be sure. We had to assume that the voters knew at least some semblance of the rules. That they had full knowledge of their actions. That an X was required. Not a dot. Precedent had shown that lines were acceptable. But not dots. Pasha had no reason to accept those. She knew it. I even said something.

Can you state with one hundred percent certainty that the vote for Pixie should be accepted? Pasha decided to reject it.

It may not have done the voter complete justice to nullify those ballots, but it was necessary. Each pumpkin was trained and educated on how to complete the ballot. Simple demonstrations were provided. And so, I didn’t have any sympathy for the rejections. I couldn’t believe the sloppiness, to be honest. It was like they wanted to create the appearance they voted. To mark a ballot. To show everyone that they elected to take on the responsibility to choose the new elected elders. So that no one could criticize them afterwards for neglecting their rightful duty.

It was an odd way of viewing it. Their right. That they could feel so much shame and guilt to deny it. As if they were under a considerable pressure to cast a ballot. But it was fine with me, if they didn’t show up to vote. I wasn’t one to judge. But this was what pumpkins did, when they didn’t like any of the candidates. They spoiled their ballots. But the invalid markings only created confusion for the election volunteers. I didn’t feel that was the correct thing to do. To have to guess the voters’ intentions. To transfer that onus and to apply pressure. They should have owned up to it and just acknowledged they didn’t want to participate in the election.

It was incredible how I was able to recall those minor details. Of the ballot markings. As if I had inhaled an incredible amount of the most trivial knowledge in mere seconds. Yet the time still traveled in its usual manner. It was difficult to reconcile.

We placed the ballots inside a large box, which would be handed over to Panacea. She would need to validate the election results. And with that, we moved on to the next phase. The time had finally come for us to officially count the check marks and choose the winners.

I had noted the time. It was past eleven.

It was clear that Parker was one of the three successful candidates. Which was a relief. I was elated, to be honest. It was marvellous. My seeds churned inside. No matter what would occur the rest of the day, the election was a success. Well done, I thought. It was an exhilarating feeling, knowing that many pumpkins had felt the same about Parker as I had.

The race for the other two positions would be much closer. And it was Pele and Penelope who emerged victorious. We double checked, and tripled checked the votes, to ensure accuracy.

What a terrific result! I thought.

I think we’re finished now. Are we? asked Paris.

I’m so tired, said Piper.

Well done for Penelope. And Parker, I said. I thought that I would be the first to congratulate them.

For sure. They’ll be so pleased, Paige agreed.

The others won’t though. I wonder if they think they’ve won.

Why do you ask? I knew what Pasha meant. At some point the unsuccessful candidates would discover they had lost. And they wouldn’t be happy about it.

I’m just saying that they’ll be in for a huge let down, if they thought they were going to be elected. And then to find out they’re not, Pasha explained.

Well that’s not our role, I said. We mustn’t be that personally involved Pasha.

I know that. I’m just saying…oh never mind.

It’s not even our duty to provide the results to them, I confirmed.

Although I would have loved to have notified Parker of the good news. I would have loved to have seen the