The Kid Who Ran For President (11 page)

“Once again, your political instincts are brilliant, Moon,” he said, clapping a hand on my back. “You make a much better candidate than you would make a president. Perfect career move.”

June Syers rolled her wheelchair over to me. “Now I know for
sure
you're crazy, Judson Moon,” she said.

“You're probably right, Mrs. Syers.”

“Too bad you're out of the race, though,” she continued.

“Why?”

“'Cause you're just the kind of man I would vote for,” she said. Considering that she hadn't voted since 1944, I was very flattered.

“Hey,” Mrs. Syers said before rolling away. “You promised you'd kiss me on Election Night. So pucker up, big boy!” She wrapped her arms around me and for the life of me I can't figure out how such a tiny little woman could squeeze so hard.

Chelsea Daniels was sobbing uncontrollably, so Lane and I went over to comfort her.

“Hundreds of thousands of silkworms are going to die a horrible death,” she bawled, “and I won't be able to do a single thing about it!”

Tears were running down her face, making little dark streams when they dissolved her makeup. Lane pointed to himself to let me know he would take care of Chelsea.

“You know, Chelsea,” Lane said, “I've been thinking about you. Have you ever considered entering the Miss America pageant? You have the looks, the personality, and a cause you believe in. I think you can win, and I can help you do it.”

“Really?” Chelsea said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and pulling herself together. “But I'm only twelve years old. Don't you have to be eighteen or something?”

“There are ways around that,” Lane said, flipping me a wink and leading her away. “Here's what we have to do …”

“So long, king of the hill!” I called after him.

Abby came over to me with a big smile on her face. “I don't know much about politics,” she said as she straightened my tie, “but that was a
great
speech!”

“You really think so?”

“Oh yeah. I
told
you you'd make a great president, Moon. I just think you make a better kid.”

“You're probably right,” I said. “Hey, Ab, I was wondering. Maybe you wanna come over tomorrow after school?”

“And do what, Judd?”

“Oh, I don't know. Play a game of
Life
maybe.”

“Sounds fabulous!”

Go back

Nice try. That was pretty clever, going straight to the back of the book to see how the story turned out. But you don't want to spoil the ending for yourself, do you? Now go back to the beginning and read the whole thing.

There are no shortcuts in life.

Learn what America's youngest president does next in

 

 

The weatherman had predicted rain in the Washington, D.C., area for Inauguration Day, but as I mounted the podium on the west side of the Capitol Building, the clouds parted to reveal a beautiful, sunny but chilly January day.

As I looked out across the National Mall, I was struck most of all by the people. Thousands and thousands had jammed the grassy area outside the Smithsonian museums that line both sides of the Mall. They spilled out onto Independence Avenue and Pennsylvania Avenue. The sea of faces stretched all the way to the Washington Monument off in the distance.

Flags were every where. Enormous ones flying from every building and tiny ones in the hands of little children. Marching bands played enthusiastically. “Yankee Doodle.” “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

As I turned to look at the stands behind the podium, I spotted my mom and dad beaming at me and waving. I wasn't sure how they were going to deal with me being president. All my life they had been in charge of me. Now I would be in charge of …
everyone.

My parents were standing next to Chelsea Daniels — dressed to kill, of course — and her parents.

Mrs. Syers was sitting in her wheelchair behind me, her hands folded in her lap, looking very regal and proud. She had already been sworn in as vice president.

Lane was up in the stands in a corner seat, with a smirk on his face. I wouldn't have been able to get elected president of the student council at school without him, and he knew it.

The rest of the bleachers were filled with dignitaries — senators, members of Congress, Supreme Court justices, the outgoing president, and all the living ex-presidents.

At precisely noon, the chief justice of the Supreme Court leaned into his microphone and asked, “Mr. Moon, are you prepared to take the oath of office as president of the United States?”

“I am, sir.”

The chief justice held up a Bible, the same one George Washington had used when he was sworn in as our country's first president back in 1789. Shivers went up and down my spine as I raised my right hand and repeated those thirty-seven words that change history:

I wasn't old enough to vote. I couldn't legally drive a car. I couldn't take a sip of my dad's beer. But I was president of the United States. I felt like I had to be in the middle of a dream. It couldn't really be happening.

Only in America!

A twenty-one-gun salute echoed off the buildings and a cheer went up from the crowd. Balloons rose into the air. Doves were released. The Marine Band played “Hail to the Chief.”

The former president, who was now just an ordinary citizen, shook my hand. “Good luck, President Moon,” he said solemnly as he handed me a large brown briefcase. “This is for you. Take good care of it, young man.”

Nobody had told me the president was going to give me a
gift.
Considering that I had beaten him in the election, it was very gracious of him. I didn't really like the color of the briefcase, but my mother always told me that when someone gave me a gift I should pretend I loved it, whether I really liked it or not.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” I said. “I can hardly wait to use it.”

The president looked horrified. The chief justice leaned over and whispered into my ear.

“That briefcase,” he said, “contains the instructions for launching nuclear missiles in case there is an attack on the United States. Keep it by your side always.”

Oops! One minute into my presidency and I had already goofed! I leaned back to the former president and told him that I hoped I would never have to use his “gift.”

When the crowd settled down and everyone in the stands took their seats, I stepped up to the microphone. Lane had worked hard on my Inaugural Address.

“My fellow Americans,” I said, hearing the words echo a second after I spoke them. “When I was running for president, I said you should vote for me because I didn't know anything about politics. I didn't know how to raise taxes. I didn't know how to ruin the economy. I didn't know how to get us into a war. I said you should vote for me because I didn't know
anything.
”

The crowd chuckled in appreciation.

“Well, that was two months ago, and I'm very proud to say that … (Lane told me to pause here) I
still
don't know anything!”

The crowd roared in approval.

“Let's face it,” I continued, “I'm a kid. I'm going to need a lot of help from all of you. Kids and grown-ups. Men and women. Rich and poor. People of all races. Will you help me?”

“
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
” the crowd thundered.

“My fellow Americans. President Theodore Roosevelt gave the country what he called a Square Deal. President Franklin D. Roosevelt gave the country a New Deal. President Truman gave us a Fair Deal. Today I say this to America — Let's make a deal.”

Everybody went nuts.

“Here's the deal I offer America — I'll help you all if you all help me. I'm not a Republican, so you Democrats have no reason to oppose me. I'm not a Democrat, so you Republicans have no reason to oppose me. But if we all work together, we can guide our nation together.”

There was too much applause to continue, so I let it die down until everybody could hear me.

“Together, we can clean up the environment,” I announced. “Together, we can educate children and take care of our senior citizens. Together, we can put an
end
to crime, an
end
to poverty, an
end
to unemployment, an
end
to substance abuse, an
end
to peace in the world.”

There was a gasp. I looked at my speech and saw that I had skipped a line.

“I mean, we're going to
have
peace in the world.”

A thunderous ovation rolled across the Mall.

“The twentieth century is over, the twenty-first is well under way. We've got a lot of work to do. So, America, I ask you, ARE YOU READY TO RUMMMMMBLE?”

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Let's get it on,” I concluded.

They didn't stop applauding for twenty minutes.