Fairness

You know you only won
Because your class is graduating, right?
The field day competition's never been decided
By one event before.
Our class was first place. Yours was third.
So winning that gave your class 300 points
When every other event was worth 50.

Mr. Chovy scowls at them, tapping his papers. "The point, girls, is we choose the group that is both popular enough for our ratings and well suited for the position. As it stands, we're a month behind schedule and still cannot decide between Chirpy Chips and Off The Hook."

Marie rolls her eyes. "It's your job to determine which group is best suited, isn't it? So why is this our problem? We made good suggestions."

"The problem, Marie, is that until we choose the next group and you've properly trained them your contract is open-ended," he snaps. "Officially, if we don't have another group ready by June for splatfest training, you're required to continue hosting. Unpaid."

Marie presses her lips together so hard they turn white. "Okay," Callie says, getting to her feet. She grabs Mr. Chovy by the shoulder and steers him around. "We'll discuss this, the two of us, and come up with something, okay? So, you just leave us to it." She pushes him out the door and twiddles her fingers at him. "Bye!"

"I didn't think they'd hold us to that fucking part of the contract," Marie says as soon as the door's closed.

Callie raises an eyebrow. "Me either. Destroy a couple lollipops and write down every idea you have, no matter how stupid. We'll compare notes in ten minutes."

Marie nods once and opens her laptop; Callie grabs a notebook and flips to a clean page. At the top, she writes WAYS TO DETERMINE BEST SPLATFEST HOST and... then she's stuck.

She draws stars and hearts around the word, thinking. Both groups are good on stage, reading the teleprompters. Chirpy Chips gives out better stage tips, but whatever-their-band-name-is gets more audience engagement... though not by enough to make a noticeable difference.

Callie's head aches. Maybe putting on those shades again will help her focus—no, that's a silly thought.

By five minutes, Marie groans and closes her laptop. "Nothing," she says.

Callie shakes her head and shuts her notebook. "Flip a coin?"

Marie rolls her eyes. "Not exactly fair, or the best measure of who'd do well for the job."

"We could always go through the contracts with both of them, line by line," Callie opens her notebook again. "The clause that keeps us from dating, or anyone who's already in a relationship from ending it, isn't well known. That may stop Chirpy Chips, if Shikaku's having any problems with their marriage."

Marie snorts. "May stop Off the Hook, too."

Callie raises an eyebrow and leans forward. "Know some juicy gossip I don't?"

"Oh come on, have you seen how Pearl looks at Marina?" Marie makes a heart with her fingers. "It's only a matter of time until she asks her on a date."

Callie's jaw drops. "In the same band? And—and an inkling and an octoling?"

"I don't think Pearl knows Marina's an Octarian," Marie muses, leaning back with her smuggest smile. "But she's definitely got a capital-C Crush, and I doubt she's capable of holding that in for a full contract."

Callie covers her mouth with both hands, but giggles still escape. She has to speak through them: "Should we warn her?"

"And explain how we know?" Marie shakes her head, a lazy grin on her face. "Marina'll shut it down anyway; she's nervous about getting too close to any Inkling. Most of her fans just think she's shy and overwhelmed and generally nervous, but it's not hard to tell when you know."

Callie can agree with that. "Okay, focus," Callie says, taking a lollipop for herself and tearing off the wrapper. She kicks her feet up on the table. "If we don't, we'll have to do more splatfests."

Marie groans. "Staying up all night, and all day, and all night again."

"Those awful energy drinks."

"Putting yourself out there one-on-one with groups of fans and always getting at least one creep at the table with you."

"The way our eyes itch and sting and water from the lights halfway through."

"The scratchy throat a million cups of tea won't help."

"Spending the next day not talking as much as possible to recover."

"Cod." Marie slumps in her seat. "Can't we just make them do a splatfest, if it comes to that?"

Can't we make—Callie sits up fast. "That's it!"

"What?" Marie scowls at Callie.

"We get them to do a splatfest to choose the next group! Who'd Be The Better Hosts, Team Chirpy Chips or Team...whatever their group is called."

Marie sits up, her eyes gleaming. "I bet they'd go for it! Have a full 48 hours of splatfest, and include that the winning group will get first dibs on the job—that way, if they wanna pass because Splatfest is too much, they can."

Callie scribbles it down in her notebook. "We won't announce the results, either; the winner'll just start taking over our duties. Which side do you wanna rep?"

"Chirpy Chips, duh," Marie says, and flashes Callie a smile. "Maybe then you'll finally learn Off The Hook's name."

Callie rolls her eyes. "48 hours... they'll probably still make us do some. First and last, so we can open and end it? That way there's no favoritism, and both groups'll get a full twenty hours."

Marie grins, steepling her hands. "It'll be a valuable experience for them, that's for sure."

Callie can't deny it. But better than that, having those two groups run the splatfest means she'll be able to play in one for the first time in years.

She'll just need her hat and shades.