Anna knew something had gone wrong the instant the laughter died in the front rows. A second earlier, the town square had been buzzing—people clapping, whistling, enjoying themselves—while the emcee, wearing a fixed upbeat smile, held out a framed certificate that read “Honorary Guest of the Festival.” The late-day sun bounced off the stage lights and made her squint.
Then, right in the middle of all that cheer, came the kind of silence that rolls in before a storm. “Oh, come on—they always rig it for their own people!” a voice rang out from the crowd, sharp and clear enough to turn the mood on a dime. Almost immediately, another man from farther back shouted in agreement.
“Those online likes don’t mean a thing. Anybody can fake that stuff.” “Exactly,” called out a heavyset woman in a floral scarf as she elbowed her way closer to the stage. “I know for a fact this so-called winner has a friend at City Hall. They gave her whatever numbers they needed and figured the rest of us were too dumb to notice.”
An angry murmur rolled across the square. A man in a ball cap started explaining loudly, “My grandson says kids can buy thousands of votes online for next to nothing.” “And Mike—he’s one of ours. He’s done a lot for this town. If anybody should win, it ought to be him, not somebody with connections,” someone else added.
The emcee looked completely thrown. His eyes darted from Anna to Mike, and the certificate in his hands trembled. The applause turned thin and uneven. Standing there under the lights, Anna suddenly felt exposed, like she’d been left standing in the middle of the square with nowhere to hide.
She blinked, trying to shake off the numbness, because the whole thing had started just a few hours earlier near the entrance to the fair. There was a wrought-iron arch wrapped in fresh flowers where people could take instant photos. Her friend Lisa, laughing and not bothering to read the rules, had practically dragged her in front of the camera.
Only later did they find out the photos were being posted right away in the town’s social media group, where people were voting for a grand prize—$500. Without even realizing it, Anna had racked up a huge number of hearts. “Folks, let’s keep it civil,” the emcee said, forcing a smile as he raised a hand for calm.
“The online voting was legitimate. These two”—he pointed to Anna and a man she had never met—“were the clear leaders.” But the crowd was already worked up. The other finalist, a well-built man in his late thirties, stood a little off to the side and half a step behind her, his hands in the pockets of his light-colored slacks…
