President of the Whole Sixth Grade

by Sherri Winston

  He said, “Ahhh! So you have one, too.”

  “One what?”

  “An aunt who thinks she’s always right!”

  I frowned. “Hey, you can’t talk about the First Lady like that. She’s my new bestie.” I flipped my phone’s home screen to my photo gallery and showed him the pics of me and her with the chef and in front of the Christmas tree.

  “Nice.” He laughed. “But I wasn’t talking about Aunt Kaye. My other aunt. Maddie. She’s always into something. That’s where I’m heading now. To the Capitol building, because of her. She drives my grandfather nuts.”

  “Yeah, well, my grandfather says Aunt Tina wouldn’t have time for so many sayings if she got married.”

  We both laughed.

  Then I looked over at him. “Is it hard? Living here, I mean. People all in your business all the time. Photos…”

  Before I could even finish, I felt his muscles tense again. “Sorry. Really, sorry about that. None of my business. I shouldn’t have asked…”

  But he was already shaking his head. “You saw it, right?”

  I looked away. “No,” I lied. “Saw what?”

  He laughed. “You wouldn’t be this uncomfortable if you hadn’t seen it.” Then he leaned over and nudged me with his shoulder.

  “Okay, so I did see it. I mean, yeah, it’s your swimming uniform and all. But…”

  “But what kid wants to look in the national newspapers or magazines and see a photo of his skinny legs sticking out of a Speedo?”

  “Yeah. And your hair is so different, too. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “That was the whole point. I thought if I got rid of ‘that mop,’ as Uncle calls it, I could go incognito. I haven’t taken a lot of photos since it’s been cut, but it’s only a matter of time before word spreads.”

  “Does that suck? The word spreading, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “Being able to live here is a privilege. I’m not going to give up swimming just because a photo embarrassed me. I love to swim. I’m good at it, too.”

  I said, “I read that you grew up in California. Then when your uncle got elected, you moved here. Right?”

  He nodded.

  “Was it hard to start over? I mean, I know it’s a privilege and all that. But… I bet you had friends. You had hopes and dreams long before you knew you’d be living in the White House. How did you handle moving and giving up your friends?”

  He was silent for a moment and I figured I’d pushed too much. Sometimes I just didn’t know when to shut up.

  Finally, he let out a long sigh.

  He said, “When Uncle Bill first sat me down and explained he was running for President, I thought it was great. I was so excited. For months, I traveled with him and my aunt, went and listened to his speeches. He was amazing.

  “Then, when he won, I felt like I was drowning. I know it sounds crazy, but it was like the idea of us moving and our lives changing hadn’t really occurred to me. All of a sudden, it hit me. I was leaving California. Leaving my old swim team. Leaving my best friends in the whole world.”

  He stopped talking. The pause was so long, I swear I could feel his pain through his skin. He drew in a breath and when he exhaled, his eyes seemed to be looking back in time. Probably to that day when he realized how much his life was going to change.

  “Mike and Taz. They were my boys. Me and Taz had been swimming together since our mothers put us in Mommy and Me classes at the Y. My mom died when I was five. She had been an Olympic swimmer. Being in the water, after she died, it made me feel close to her. Swimming with Taz and, later, Mike, made me feel like somehow Mom was still there.”

  This time, he dropped his head. I touched his arm lightly.

  “Neptune, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” I said, noticing the sadness creeping into his expression.

  “You know what, Brianna Justice? You’re the first person I’ve ever told that to.”

  We both looked up at the Secret Service guy. He concentrated on his phone like he wasn’t listening.

  Neptune laughed. “Anyway, we’ve been in Washington almost two years now. I’m on a new swim team and I’ve made new friends. So, I guess, it’s all good.”

  It should have lightened the mood, but all of a sudden I felt stupid tears starting to burn the corners of my stupid eyes.

  In a whisper, I asked: “But do you wish you could just turn back time? Do you wish you didn’t have to change? That things could stay the same?”

  He thought about it for a minute. “You know what? At first, I did. I really did. Then one day last year, last summer, I was traveling with my aunt Kaye. As the First Lady, she does a lot for arts programs and art education. But she asked if I’d like to participate in an effort to teach more kids how to swim.”

  “I think I remember reading about that. At least, Grandpa read it to me. Just so you know, he loves your uncle!”

  “Thank you. Anyway, we were going to different cities, talking to groups of kids. And in Fort Lauderdale, we went to this one park. I wasn’t giving speeches, not to big groups, but I did talk to a few kids. This one little dude, I showed him what to do if he ever fell in a pool and didn’t know how to get out. Well, several weeks later, they contacted Aunt Kaye and told her that the same boy got pushed into a pool maybe three weeks after we left. He managed to get to safety and he said it was because of what I showed him.”

  “Really?” Now I was smiling, too.

  “Yeah. So, you know, I think about that. When I’m having one of those days when I wish things could just go back to the way they were, I remember that little boy. And I think, Uncle Bill won’t be President forever. I’ll go back to California eventually. Until then, maybe I can do something cool or make a difference for somebody else.”

  Neptune glued his face to the tablet again. After a few seconds, he pushed it in my direction and said, “Here. If you want, you should look up famous speeches in history. Might give you some ideas about how to deliver a great message.”

  We spent the next ten minutes reading lists of the best speeches ever. One of my favorites was Susan B. Anthony’s speech in 1873 about the right for women to vote. John F. Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. were on there, too.

  I felt a little overwhelmed. “But… all of these people were talking about big, huge, important things. I’m just a sixth grader from Detroit. I don’t have anything big and important to say.”

  The elevator shook, and I shrieked. Again. Almost jumped in Neptune’s lap. Then we were moving and before I knew it, we were back on the first floor and the doors were opening and a bunch of people were crowded around the entrance. Mom was right there and I spilled out of the elevator and into her arms. She started stroking my forehead, then announced to the whole wide world, “My baby has always been a little nervous of closed-in spaces.”

  “MOM!” I cried. But of course all the grown-ups thought it was funny and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. To the right, I caught a glimpse of the First Lady. She was standing with Miss Letitia.

  A big voice rose above the others and I turned.

  “You all right, my boy? Thought I might have to send in a SEAL team to save you.”

  I looked at Neptune. He ducked as the man reached out to brush his hand across the top of his head.

  It was the President. Of the United States. Of America!

  I whispered to Mom, “Why would he send seals to save us? What does that mean?”

  She squeezed me. “He means an elite branch of the United States Navy. It stands for Sea, Air, and Land teams. When the President needs to get someone out of a tight spot, that’s who he calls.”

  “And who do we have here?” asked the President. He was coming toward us and I didn’t know whether to step out of Mom’s hug and shake his hand or run and hide. But I figured I’d had enough crazy for one day, so I reminded myself to be calm, cool, and sophisticated.

  I stepped forward and held out my hand. “Hello, Mr. Brianna. My name is Pres
ident.”

  He smiled. I groaned.

  He said, “I think I get the idea. So, I hear you’re interested in politics.”

  Now I glanced nervously at his wife. She smiled warmly.

  “William, don’t put the girl on the spot.” She looked at me. “But, honey, any second now all these people in suits are going to sweep him away to his next meeting. If you want to ask your question, now’s the time.”

  It was like a scene out of one of those movies. I swear to goodness, everything stopped.

  Some opportunities only come once in a lifetime. Who knew when I’d get a chance to interview the President again.

  I gulped. Pulling up my clipboard, I asked, “Would you mind if I quoted you? It’s for my school paper. The First Lady already let me interview her.”

  “Fire away, young lady,” he said.

  “Well, it’s a two-parter.”

  He said, “Darling, I’ve yet to meet a reporter worth her salt who didn’t have a two-parter for me. Go on with your question.”

  I said, “What advice would you give on how to be a good leader? Um, wait. No. How to be an effective leader?”

  He stared at me for a long time. It was getting a little nerve-racking standing there.

  “You know, the secret to effective leadership is simply understanding what your strengths are and being smart enough to surround yourself with the right people. Not only your friends, but people who care about your message and share your passion to take that message to others. Now, what’s the second part of your question?”

  I was writing as fast as I could. From behind me, I heard Neptune mumble, “You’d be done by now if you had a tablet.” I turned and made a face.

  “Okay, thank you for that, sir, Mr. President. Part two: If you want to take the message to the people, what are some strategies for giving a good speech?”

  He gave a lopsided grin. “That’s easy. Keep it short and simple and make them feel good about your message. I once heard Maya Angelou say that people may forget what you said or what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel. Every good speaker must understand the truth of her words.”

  Then he was off. Mom hugged me as the President kissed his wife, waved to his nephew, and then allowed himself to be led away by a group of suit-clad men and women.

  I felt someone walk up alongside me. Neptune.

  “You do have something important to say,” he said. “And people will listen. You just have to have the courage to say it.”

  Civics Journal

  Ancient Rome and Middle School

  The original Neptune was the god of the sea. He was beautiful and flashy.

  According to one version of the myth of Minerva and Neptune, both gods favored a coastal village. But the villagers were afraid to choose between them. They feared whichever they chose, the other would be angered.

  The gods decided to offer gifts to the townspeople. Whoever gave the best gift would be the winner.

  Neptune gave the gift of a beautiful waterfall. However, when the people drank from it, they had to spit it out. It was salt water.

  Minerva gave the gift of a gorgeous olive tree with the most amazing olives.

  The townspeople loved it, but felt that a coastal village could not risk angering the god of the sea. So they didn’t tell her it was the best gift.

  But it turns out Neptune was pretty cool. He laughed and proclaimed Minerva’s gift the best. From that time forward, the olive tree remained a symbol of Minerva’s gift.

  I like the message behind that. Sometimes you can’t be afraid of going after what you want.

  And if you have power, use it in a way that empowers others.

  18

  Gladiators

  Wednesday, December 10

  Uncle’s voice boomed through my cell phone. I was lying on my back in bed, arm thrown over my face, covering my eyes. Ebony was singing in the bathroom and Lauren was doing sit-ups between the beds. Red was doing ballet stretches.

  “Morning, sugar,” he said. “Missed you at dinner last night.”

  “I had such a long day yesterday. What’s up, Uncle?” I fought back a yawn. Normally, at home, I’d already be up at this time, working at the bakery. My brain clicked on like a computer. I started mentally visualizing my “To Do” list.

  He laughed. “Sugar, I thought maybe you’d like to come by later this morning. Do some baking.”

  That woke me up. “I have a new recipe I’d like to show you. Maybe I could teach you a few things.”

  He laughed, a loud barking sound. “Now you sound as crazy as your daddy. Must be where you get it from.”

  “Must be.” I smiled.

  “Anyway, I’m stuck with a kitchen full of ingredients I don’t have room to store because my big shindig I was telling you about got canceled. It’s a good time to try something new!”

  I raised onto my elbows. “Oh, no! Uncle Al, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “I know, sugar. I know. Anyway, maybe sometime after breakfast, later in the morning, if you get a break in your schedule, come by and see your ol’ uncle. Maybe I can learn a thing or two. Or maybe I’ll knock you on your butt.”

  “When it comes to cupcakes, Uncle, you ain’t ready for this!”

  Who says bakers can’t smack-talk!

  By the time I hung up, my three roommates were dressed and at the door. A sliver of daylight shone between the heavy drapes, but when they opened wider, I saw the ground covered in snow.

  Now they stood at the hotel room door, holding their coats and hats, looking back at me.

  “Want us to wait for you?” Lauren asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ll try to meet you down there.”

  As they were leaving, I called out to Red. “Hey, wait a minute. Can I ask you something?” The other two said they’d wait at the elevator.

  Red was smiling, but her eyes didn’t look right. She looked tense.

  “What’s up? Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s awesome,” she said in her typical tone that said she meant the opposite.

  “Why so awesome?”

  She let out a sigh. “The usual. My demon ballet teacher sent me a text last night saying if I didn’t get back soon another dancer may have stolen my lead.”

  “Evil witch!” I said.

  “The evilest.”

  Although she was doing her usual cool act, I could see that the text message really bothered her. On an impulse, I gave her a big hug.

  “I’m really glad you chose to come on this trip and get to know everybody better,” I said. “It means a lot to me. But I sure hope you don’t lose your spot because of this.”

  She shrugged. “Devil woman’s tricks don’t work on me. If that other dancer was so good, she would’ve won the spot two weeks ago. I’m good. But thanks, Justice. See you downstairs.”

  She left and I pushed myself out of bed, went into the bathroom to get ready.

  Water shushed from the faucet. I spat out minty foam, then reapplied more toothpaste. Aunt Tina always said the best weapon was a great smile. A yawn escaped my mouth. I had stayed up late writing my speech after the other girls had gone to sleep. But it was worth it—I finally had something to feel good about.

  The phone by the bed rang.

  “Brianna!” said Mr. G.

  My hair was tied up, wrapped in a scarf the way the lady in the salon had showed me. Still had its blow-dried smoothness. (One thing you learn when you hang out with white chicks is that they can wash their hair every day. Some of them have to, because of oil buildup. Most black girls, though, would be bald if they washed their hair that much. Unless I got my hairdo wet, I’d be good for at least a week.)

  The scarf was covering part of my ear. I was still trying to get it out of the way, but could hear Mr. and Mrs. G.’s voices, excitedly talking over each other.

  “Hold on, please!” I said. It was too early for the G & G Show.

  “Brianna! Have you heard?” said Mrs. G
.

  “You mean about the storm? Did something get canceled today?” We were supposed to have a full day of conference workshops this afternoon, after our Newseum trip.

  “No,” said Mrs. G., clearing her throat.

  “Okay, yes. Our trip to the Newseum is on hold. Entire city has shut down because of the weather. But that’s not why we’re calling. Yesterday, at the Capitol, you guys sat in the Senate chamber and heard the senator’s filibuster, remember? Well, she’s still at it. She is attempting to set a world record for the longest filibuster on record.” I could tell Mrs. G. was excited.

  She took a breath, then pushed ahead. “We’ve already talked to several kids who’d like to head back to the Capitol with us. We wanted to see if you’d be willing to come, too. The senator is trying to draw attention to a pitiful lack of funding around the nation for technology programs in K-through-twelve programs.”

  “Um… okay,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

  Mrs. G. said hurriedly, “Brianna, this is big! Unless the states AND the federal government make technology in schools a real priority, kids like you and all the other Blueberries might face serious challenges when it comes to getting the very best opportunities in life.”

  When I told them I’d love to come along, Mr. G. said to meet them in the lobby.

  After I got dressed and got to the lobby, Lauren came running over.

  “Brianna! Did you hear? Someone at the Capitol building is trying to set a world record! We’re going to watch.”

  She looked so excited, I couldn’t help reaching over to hug her. She hugged back and handed me two red apples and a Nutri-Grain bar. She shrugged. “You didn’t eat this morning,” she said. Red and Ebony came up next, also wearing coats and gloves.

  “Look!” said Lauren, pointing at the gigantic television screens in the carpeted hotel lounge. It was the senator we’d seen yesterday. Letters crawled under her picture: