Some lady stuck a baby in my face!

  “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed. “What is this baby doing here? It’s too young to be in school.”

  “Never mind that, A.J.,” Alexia whispered. “Kiss the baby.”

  “I’m not kissing a baby!” I replied. “I don’t even like kissing my mother when people are around.”

  “Kissing babies is part of running for office, A.J.,” said Michael. “You have to do it.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Babies can’t vote.”

  “You don’t want to kiss my baby?” asked the lady. She looked all sad.

  “A.J., it will look bad if you don’t kiss the baby,” said Ryan. “You’re going to lose the election, and Andrea will be president.”

  “And if you don’t kiss the baby,” said Neil, “that means you love Andrea.”

  “I do not!” I protested.

  “Kiss it, A.J.,” said Alexia.

  I looked at the baby. The baby looked at me. It was drooling. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I wished I could just run away to Antarctica and live with the penguins.

  I kissed the baby.

  And when I leaned over to kiss the baby, I’m pretty sure I smelled something. Something bad.

  “I think the baby pooped!” I yelled.

  Ugh, disgusting! I thought I was gonna die.

  Later that day, Mayor Hubble showed up in the playground at recess. Man, ever since he got out of jail, that guy sure has a lot of time on his hands! The gang and me were playing on the monkey bars when the mayor came over.

  “It’s time to go on the stump, A.J.”

  “Do you want me to stand on a tree that was cut down?”

  “Not that kind of stump,” Mayor Hubble said.* “I mean you’ve got to campaign for votes.”

  Andrea was standing on the top of the swing set nearby. A bunch of kids were gathered on the ground listening to her talk.

  “When I’m president of the third grade,” Andrea said, “I promise there will be plenty of pencils and paper and glue sticks and scissors and crayons in every class. Ella Mentry School will be the best school in the state!”

  “Yay!” Everybody was cheering.

  The gang turned to look at me.

  “What are you going to promise to do when you’re president, A.J.?” asked Mayor Hubble.

  “How should I know?”

  “Andrea is making all kinds of promises,” said Ryan, “so you’ve got to make some promises too if you want to win.”

  “What kind of promises?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Mayor Hubble. “As long as you get the kids to vote for you.”

  I climbed up on the top of the monkey bars.

  “Attention, third graders!” I shouted. “I have an important announcement.”

  All the kids who were listening to Andrea came over to the monkey bars.

  “When I’m president of the third grade,” I shouted, “I promise there will be no more homework!”

  “Yay!” Everybody started chanting, “No more homework!”

  Andrea had on her mean face.

  “I have an important announcement,” she shouted. Some of the kids went back over to her. “When I’m president, we will have fewer fire drills. That way we’ll be able to spend more time learning.”

  “Yay!”

  “Can you possibly be any more boring?” I shouted to Andrea. “When I’m president, we’ll have more fire drills! In fact, we’ll have a fire drill every day! With real fires!”

  “Yay!”

  Andrea looked madder than ever. The kids didn’t know if they should listen to her or me, so they started running back and forth between us.

  “When I’m president,” Andrea shouted, “every student in the school will get their own iPad! You won’t have to carry a heavy backpack anymore, because all your books will be on the iPad!”

  “Yay!”

  “When I’m president,” I shouted, “there will be a video game system built into every desk in the school!”

  “Yay!”

  “When I’m president,” Andrea shouted, “the water fountains will be filled with lemonade!”

  “Yay!”

  “When I’m president,” I shouted, “every day will be a snow day, even if there’s no snow! And we’re going to have rain days too! After all, rain is just extremely wet snow.”

  “Yay!”

  “And furthermore,” I shouted, “we’re going to take all the hard words out of the dictionary. And we’re going to abolish anything higher than the five times table. Kids will no longer have to sit in the corner when they misbehave. We’re going to make all the classrooms round, so there will be no corners! And all the teachers will be fired and replaced by comic book superheroes!”

  “Yay!”

  “Top that, Andrea!” I shouted. “In your face!”

  Andrea was really mad! It looked like she couldn’t think of anything else to promise.

  “If you vote for me,” she finally shouted, “I’ll give each of you … a dollar!”

  “Gasp!” everybody gasped. Then they started cheering.

  “Yay!”

  “If you vote for me,” I shouted, “I’ll give you two dollars!”

  “Yay!”

  “I’ll give you three dollars, and a candy bar!” shouted Andrea.

  “Yay!”

  We went back and forth like that for a while. Making promises is fun!

  The next day was the worst day in the history of the world. It was my turn to bring home Mr. Wiggles—Neil the nude kid’s disgusting pet ferret.

  “Have fun with Mr. Wiggles,” Mr. Granite said when the bell rang.

  “Have fun with Mr. Wiggles,” said Ryan.

  “Have fun with Mr. Wiggles,” said Emily.

  In case you were wondering, everybody was telling me to have fun with Mr. Wiggles. The only one who didn’t say that was Neil, who told me to be sure to take care of Mr. Wiggles. He gave me some ferret food.

  Ferrets are gross. I had to carry the cage home from school with me.

  “He’s adorable!” said my older sister, Amy. “Can I hold him?”

  “Just be careful,” I told her. “If Mr. Wiggles escapes, I’m in big trouble.”

  Amy picked up Mr. Wiggles and was rocking him in her arms like he was a baby. He didn’t like it, and he started trying to hop back and forth.

  “He’s doing the weasel war dance,” I told her. “That means he’s excited. You’d better stop playing with him.”

  Amy put Mr. Wiggles back in his cage.

  “How do you wash a ferret?” Amy asked.

  “I guess you put it in a washing machine,” I said. “Then you dry it in a microwave oven.”

  “You do not, A.J.!”

  My mom forced me to keep Mr. Wiggles in my bedroom all night. It was creepy. He just sat in his cage and stared at me.

  I closed my eyes for a while, and when I opened them again, Mr. Wiggles was still staring at me with those beady little ferret eyes. It was hard to sleep.

  “I like penguins,” I whispered to Mr. Wiggles. “Do you have any penguin friends?”

  Mr. Wiggles didn’t answer. He just stared at me.

  “Penguins are cool,” I told him. “I wish you were a penguin. You would be my best friend.”

  Mr. Wiggles just sat there and stared at me some more. He was boring.

  I decided that when I’m president of the third grade, the first thing I’ll do is cancel Adopt-A-Pet Month. And I will ban ferrets from Ella Mentry School forever.

  “You are ugly,” I whispered to Mr. Wiggles.

  Mr. Wiggles just stared at me.

  “You are a dumbhead,” I said.

  Mr. Wiggles stared at me some more. He doesn’t even understand English.

  “When I count to three, sit there and do nothing,” I said. “One … two … three.”

  Mr. Wiggles just stared at me. Wow, that was amazing! I had taught him a trick!

  Mr. Wiggles wasn’t that much fun to be around, but I had a good time insulting a ferret.

  I was walking with Mr. Wiggles to school the next morning when a big, black limo pulled up alongside me. The window rolled down. Mayor Hubble was inside.

  “Hop in, A.J.,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  I had never been in a limo before. I got in, putting Mr. Wiggles’s cage on the seat between us.

  “What’s that?” the mayor asked.

  “A ferret.”

  “It looks like a long rat,” said the mayor. “A.J., I wanted to tell you that you’re doing great. There’s no way Andrea can win the election. But you still need to debate with her.”

  “I need to go fishing with Andrea?” I asked.

  “Not ‘the bait’!” said the mayor. “‘Debate’!”

  I was just yanking the mayor’s chain. I know what a debate is. That’s when two people shake hands, and then they argue for a while, and then they shake hands again and pretend they weren’t arguing.

  Mayor Hubble told me the big debate would be that afternoon. He said he wouldn’t be there because he didn’t want anybody to know he was helping me win the election. The limo stopped a block from the school to let me out.

  “Remember our deal,” Mayor Hubble said. “After you win, you tell all the parents to vote for me.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  I was nervous all morning. I couldn’t look at Andrea. Mr. Granite taught us some stuff about social studies, but I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think about was the big debate.

  Finally, it was two o’clock. We had to go to the all-purpose room. The whole third grade was there. Up on the stage were two podiums. I climbed up the steps and stood behind one of them. Andrea went and stood behind the other one. Our librarian, Mrs. Roopy, stood between us.

  “Good afternoon, third graders,” she said. “Welcome to the great debate. Isn’t this exciting?”

  “Yes!” shouted all the girls.

  “No!” shouted all the boys.

  “We’re going to keep this pretty simple,” said Mrs. Roopy. “I will ask questions, and each candidate will give a brief answer. Ready? Let’s start with you, Andrea. Why do you want to be president of the third grade?”

  “That’s an excellent question, Mrs. Roopy,” said Andrea, who is a big brownnoser. “I want to be president of the third grade so I can help improve the quality of our education here at Ella Mentry School and blah blah blah blah blah …”

  Andrea went on and on for a million hundred hours. I thought I was gonna die.

  “And why do you want to be president, A.J.?” asked Mrs. Roopy.

  “I want to be president so Andrea will not win,” I admitted. “Because if she’s president, we’ll all be marching around in uniforms, doing extra homework, reading Shakespeare plays, taking dancing lessons, and singing songs from Annie.”

  “That’s a lie!” Andrea protested.

  “Let’s move on,” said Mrs. Roopy. “What do you think should be served for lunch at our cafetorium? Andrea?”

  “I believe the students should have a healthy, nutritious meal every day,” Andrea said. “And I will fight so that each and every one of us gets a balanced diet.”

  “That’s right!” shouted Emily.

  “I think we should be able to eat as much junk food as we want,” I said.

  “So, Andrea,” said Mrs. Roopy, “would you ban junk food from the cafetorium?”

  “Yes!” Andrea replied. “How will we grow up to be big and strong if we stuff ourselves with that poison?”

  “There you go again,” I said. “You want to take away our freedom, the freedom to poison ourselves. That’s in the Bill of Rights, y’know.”

  “It is not!” Andrea shouted. “I memorized the Bill of Rights, and that’s not one of them!”

  “My Bill of Rights came with bonus features,” I said. “Like a DVD.”

  Everybody laughed, even though I didn’t say anything funny.

  “Let’s move on,” said Mrs. Roopy. “Andrea, you have said that recess is too long and that it takes time away from learning. But most kids say that recess is too short. What is your feeling now?”

  “Well, I was for recess before I was against recess,” Andrea said.

  “Make up your mind!” I shouted at Andrea. “You’re a flip-flopper!”

  “I am not!” Andrea shouted. “You’re mean, Arlo!”

  “So is your face!” I replied.

  “Well, you’re not invited to my birthday party!” Andrea shouted at me.

  Everybody gasped. Not inviting a kid to your birthday party is just about the meanest thing you can do to somebody.

  “I don’t want to go to your dumb birthday party anyway!” I shouted back at her.

  “Okay, settle down, everyone,” said Mrs. Roopy. “Describe for me the perfect class field trip. You first, A.J.”

  “We would go see the new Batman movie before it comes out,” I said. “Free popcorn for everybody. That would be cool!”

  “Andrea?”

  “We would fly to Paris and visit the Louvre museum,” said Andrea. “We would see the Mona Lisa and all the wonderful works of art there.”

  We went back and forth like that for a while. Whenever I said anything, kids would clap and cheer. Whenever Little Miss I-Know-Everything said anything, the only one who clapped or cheered was Emily. I was definitely winning the debate.

  “It’s time for the closing arguments,” said Mrs. Roopy. “Each candidate will have five minutes to say whatever they want. Andrea, you may go first.”

  “I would just like to say that blah blah blah blah blah and that’s why you should vote for me.”

  “Okay, A.J., you have the floor.”

  “Why would I want a floor?” I asked.

  “That means it’s your turn to talk, dumbhead!” yelled Andrea, rolling her eyes.

  “I knew that,” I lied. “Well, my opponent has spent the last million hundred minutes spreading nasty lies and calling me names,” I said. “So I would like to conclude by saying that ANDREA IS A POOPY HEAD! That’s why you should vote for me. Thank you!”

  The kids went crazy. All you have to do is say the words “poopy head” and kids go crazy. Nobody knows why.

  The great debate was over. I had totally mopped the floor with Andrea.* It was the greatest day of my life.

  There were only two days before the election, and things were looking good. Just about all the kids in third grade said they were going to vote for me. Hardly anybody wanted Andrea to be president. Nobody wanted to wear a uniform and give up recess. Except for Emily, of course.

  “You’re a shoo-in, A.J.,” Michael told me.

  I had no idea what shoes had to do with anything.

  That’s when the worst thing in the history of the world happened. When I got to school the next day, everybody was holding a sheet of pink paper. I picked one up off the ground. This is what it said....

  THINGS YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT A.J....

  • He throws paper into the garbage instead of putting it in the recycling box!

  • He changed a C– to a C+ on his spelling test last week!

  • He wears the same underwear two days in a row!

  • He didn’t get his mother a card for Mother’s Day!

  • He uses a magnifying glass to torture defenseless insects!

  • He picks his nose and eats it!

  Those were lies!

  Well, most of them were anyway.

  All the kids were talking to each other. I heard some of them saying that they were thinking of voting for Andrea instead of me.

  This was the worst thing to happen since TV Turnoff Week! I called for an emergency strategy session, and the gang gathered in Ryan’s tree house as soon as school let out that day.

  “Did you really forget to make your mom a card for Mother’s Day, A.J.?” asked Alexia.

  “I didn’t forget!” I said. “I ran out of time.”

  “That’s just wrong, man,” said Michael.

  “Gee, maybe I should vote for Andrea,” said Neil the nude kid. “I’m not sure I could vote for a kid who doesn’t make his mom a Mother’s Day card.”

  “I might vote for Andrea too,” said Ryan.

  “You can’t vote for Andrea!” I shouted at them. “You’re the ones who talked me into this in the first place! I didn’t want to run for president!”

  That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. Mayor Hubble popped his head up into the tree house.

  “I saw that flyer that Andrea printed up,” the mayor said. “That girl is very tricky. A.J., it’s time for us to play hardball.”

  “I didn’t bring my glove,” I told him.

  “Not that kind of hardball!” said the mayor. “We need to dig up some dirt.”

  “Should I get a shovel?” I asked.

  “Not that kind of dirt! Andrea dug up dirt about you. So you need to dig up some dirt about Andrea. It’s the only way you can win the election.”

  “How can we dig up dirt about Andrea?” asked Alexia.

  “Follow me,” said the mayor.

  We all piled into Mayor Hubble’s limo and drove over to Andrea’s house. The limo driver parked a block away, across the street.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked. “Andrea’s never home after school. She’s always taking some dance class or piano lesson so she’ll be better than everybody else.”

  “I know,” Mayor Hubble whispered. “That’s why we’re going to her house now.”

  Mayor Hubble sneaked down the street, hiding behind trees and bushes like he was a secret agent. We all followed him.

  “What if Andrea’s parents are home?” asked Alexia.

  “Shhhhhhhhhhh!” Mayor Hubble said. “Her parents are at work.”

  “I don’t feel good about this,” said Ryan.

  Mayor Hubble led us to the back door of Andrea’s house. He searched around until he found a key under the welcome mat.

  “Aha!” he said as he put the key into the lock.

  “Isn’t it illegal to break into somebody’s house?” I asked.

  “I’m not breaking in,” said the mayor. “I’m using the key.”