President of the Whole Sixth Grade

by Sherri Winston

  The afternoon was a whirlwind.

  At eleven, we trudged across an endless sea of whiteness carrying trays of baked goods. College kids from the senator’s alma mater, Georgetown University, were on the plaza in front of the Capitol. They were competing to see who could make the most awesome snow sculpture, while cheering her on. Turned out, they were pretty impressed that a bunch of middle schoolers—sixth graders!—were trying so hard to make a difference.

  Little by little, more people showed up. We kept tabs on the senator’s speech. A lady from one of the TV stations came over and asked some questions. Then she interviewed me about what we were doing.

  I told them the senator had asked for gladiators, so that’s what we were. Since we were too young to vote, we were trying to encourage voters to show their support for Senator Wilson-Hayes and for schools. Ebony was a Twitter goddess. In no time she’d hooked up with teen groups and fangirls for various boy bands all across the country. Soon they were helping us, too.

  After that, the whole scene turned into a carnival. People with signs, folks cheering and clapping.

  C-R-A-Z-I-N-E-S-S!

  It was nuts. And if that wasn’t enough, one of the senator’s aides came out and talked to Mr. G. She wanted us to know that Twitter was blowing up—in a good way. People from all over the country were listening.

  “We have heard from several congressional offices that they are hearing from their constituents. Apparently, a lot of teens are pushing their parents to take a stand. And the stand they want them to take is beside the senator. Thank you,” she said.

  When noon came around, I looked around and let out a huge breath.

  We did it!

  Every cupcake—gone!

  Every pie—eaten!

  Out on the steps of the Capitol building, we stood beside empty pastry trays.

  At ten past noon we learned that the senator had killed the bill. At least for the time being. And she’d beaten the previous record for the longest filibuster in history.

  And the record she beat? That was the icing on the cupcake. It was held by a senator named Strom Thurmond, who worked hard to prevent civil rights legislation. I might not know a ton of history, but you didn’t grow up in Detroit without learning something about the civil rights movement. Can you say Rosa Parks? Hello!

  Now we were practically being drowned by people cheering, and even more newscasters with cameras and microphones. Crazy, right?

  A horde of the Georgetown students huddled up with us Blueberries as a TV camera pointed at us. Word of what we were doing had spread incredibly fast. Ebony and Mr. G. had mad skills when it came to social media.

  Now they were asking us a bunch of questions. People were pushing. My heart was pounding. I’d never felt so tired—or so proud.

  Then I heard a ripple of noise. Next thing I knew, someone was pushing through the crowd, approaching from my left side.

  When I saw his face rushing toward me, I grinned. It was Neptune, with Adam the Secret Service agent close by his side.

  “You did it!” he cried. Then he gave me a big hug. “You are awesome, Brianna Justice.”

  Yep, that was exactly what the president’s nephew said. And he said it like “awesome” was really awesome.

  Right after that, the scene went from mere chaos to absolute insanity.

  And right in the middle of it was little ol’ me. Didn’t see that coming!

  Civics Journal

  Ancient Rome and Middle School

  The Roman legion army wore very special uniforms. Along with the shield, armor, shirt, belt, and helmet, they also wore hobnailed sandals. The sandals were designed to make the maximum amount of noise and sometimes they even sparked against the ground.

  Think about it.

  Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers marching toward you so fiercely that their shoes even seemed like weapons.

  Now that’s awesome. My red Converse are cool, but they don’t spark when I walk.

  20

  The Forum

  We were rushed from one side of the House steps to the other. The news crews wanted me to make a statement. Mr. G. wanted me to make a statement, too. Not just to the media, but to the crowd.

  I’d never had a problem with speaking in public, but now… now I was shaking in my Converse. And not just because of the ice and snow. When I looked down the steps, I was staring into a wave of faces. I was scared. All of these people were probably way smarter than me.

  “Mr. G., I don’t know what to say.” My voice was hoarse and raspy.

  He looked at his watch. “Brianna, you might not have time to make your speech at the conference. Here’s your chance to make a different kind of speech. Are you going to take it?”

  “I don’t know what to say!” I repeated, steam hissing from my lips as my warm breath touched the cold air.

  He took me by the shoulders and stared right at me. In science, we learned that if an animal in the wild does this, it’s an act of aggression. For a brief moment, I feared Mr. G. might head-butt me.

  He did not.

  Instead, he said:

  “Just tell the truth. Be honest. Let them see and hear your passion. Tell them how you feel.”

  I went back and stood before the crowd. One of the senator’s aides who’d come out to join us had set up a podium.

  Applause smattered, mingled with whistles, shouts of “woo-hoooooo,” and expressions mostly of curiosity.

  They were all waiting. For me.

  I took a deep breath, then stepped to the microphone.

  Just like in a movie, as soon as I got close to the mic, screechy static sparked, making me wince. I was shaking. Then I looked out into the crowd and saw that Mom had made it over. She gave me a tiny wave and a nod. Then it was like she got swallowed by a sea of woolen bodies. People were shifting and moving. She appeared again, magically closer to the stage. Two wide-bodied dudes wearing long navy coats and dark shades stood on either side. I recognized them—her FBI buddies. Well, in case I was so bad that I caused a riot, the FBI might save me. Heart fluttering, I inhaled, then plunged into my speech:

  “Miss… Senator Madeline Wilson-Hayes decided to change some folks’ minds today. She made a call for gladiators. Gladiators willing to fight to make a difference. We learned about gladiators in Mr. Galafinkis’s class. They are tough and strong and fierce. They get it done.

  “Gladiators are not cowards. I used to think that people who were always trying to change themselves—like people at my school—were cowards. Scared to be themselves.

  “Now I think maybe I was the coward. I was afraid of who I could become. That’s not cool. Now I know I want to be a gladiator. Not just for the rest of the world, but for myself, too.”

  I paused to catch my breath. Looked around and saw people nodding their heads. Somebody shouted, “Go get ’em, little mama.” My mom gave him her FBI face, and laughter ruffled the chill air. I took another breath and plowed ahead.

  “That’s why I knew I wanted to help the senator. While my uncle, teachers, and classmates helped bake the cupcakes and pies we passed out today—by the way, if you liked them, you should visit Uncle Al’s restaurant, the Kitchen, or Wetzel’s Bakery in Detroit. That’s where I work. Anyway, as everyone was helping to bake or organize, I researched filibusters on the Internet.

  “The dude who held the record for longest-ever filibuster was Senator Strom Thurmond from South Carolina. In 1957, Senator Thurmond didn’t want things to change, either. So his filibuster was to block the Civil Rights Act. He did not believe African American people should have the same rights as other citizens.

  “He was wrong. And he could not stop the change. The Civil Rights Act passed anyway.

  “Like I said, today Senator Madeline Wilson-Hayes called for gladiators. People strong and fierce enough to make the world listen. Her goal wasn’t to just stop the bill from passing. She wanted people to take notice of what it failed to do. She wanted everyone to pay attention, to know that we need b
etter technology education in schools.

  “She is right. So, proud as I am about getting the word out, I still want to do more. The senator gave us a good start today. But what are we going to do tomorrow? We must keep making change!

  “I came to D.C. excited to compete at our leadership conference. I was supposed to give a speech today that showed that the sixth graders at Blueberry Hills Middle School have a sense of purpose. I thought giving the best speech and winning a thousand dollars for our school would be cool. The most important thing ever!

  “But then I met the President yesterday.” I paused to take a breath. Murmurs began to swirl. I took another gulp of air and continued. “He’s taller in person, by the way. Anyhow, he was nice enough to give me speech-giving tips. I thought, wow, I’m going to blow the competition away thanks to his suggestions.

  “Well, I’ve missed the opportunity to compete against the other sixth-grade presidents at the conference. I will not win the thousand dollars for my school. And I will not get a chance to be featured in my favorite magazine in the whole wide world, Executive, Jr. Why? Because I chose to be here. And you know what? I’m good with that. Being able to be part of this. Setting a record, being with friends, learning and growing. Seeing how much I’ve changed already. And I met some great new people. So even though it didn’t turn out how I planned, this is the BEST. TRIP. EVER!

  “So, in conclusion, I will not fear change. I will seek it out and gladiate the heck out of it. I want to thank each and every person who reached out to help us today. I hope we all remember this day forever. If you want to change tomorrow, stand up for something today. My name is Brianna Justice and I am president of the whole sixth grade!

  “I don’t know what else to say, so I’m going to shut up now. And thank you!”

  This time the applause was thunderous. It felt great. And delicious. And amazing.

  Then there was shuffling. I heard some people gasp, then the next thing I knew, Neptune was at my side.

  “Now this is legit!” he said as he pushed his way up the steps with Adam the Secret Service dude behind him.

  About a billion flashbulbs flickered in our faces. Next thing I knew, a throng of Secret Service and FBI agents swarmed and led us inside the Capitol. It was terrifying and exhilarating.

  Yet once we were locked away in a small office, I turned and looked at Neptune and we both just cracked up.

  “That was intense!”

  “Welcome to my world,” he said with a grin.

  We cracked up some more. Adam the Secret Service agent glanced at Mom and rolled his eyes. He said, “Your kid thinks she’s funny. So does that one.” He pointed his head toward Neptune.

  Mom smirked. “Yes. While her height is taking its time, her snark is growing right on schedule!”

  Adam answered a call, turning his back for, like, a second, then turned back and nodded to three other guys I hadn’t even noticed.

  People were all talking at the same time, and I felt a little light-headed from the heat of so many bodies. Neptune tilted his head to one side and started moving toward the rear of the room. I followed.

  “Soooo…” he said.

  “Um, soooo…”

  We laughed again, but this time, nervously. I started, “Thank you so much. For coming here, I mean. And for yesterday, too. You could’ve treated me like a total lump for freaking out on the elevator, but you—”

  I didn’t get to finish that thought.

  Nope.

  Because Frederick Douglass London, code name Neptune, was giving me my first kiss. On. The. Lips.

  It tickled.

  And my lips tingled.

  The kiss was warm and brief. Not those long, gross kisses like the teenagers do on Nick at Night.

  I looked up at him. I had the craziest urge to ask him if he liked my hair. What the what?

  “Come on, scout,” Adam said to Neptune. When he saw the look on my face—not to mention the look in Neptune’s eyes—he hesitated.

  Adam said gently, “Sorry, kiddo, but we’ve got to go. I’ll give you two minutes, then we have to leave.”

  Neptune nodded.

  When Adam left, Neptune turned back to me. “I… I hope you don’t mind. I mean, what I did. I just, um, well. You’re cool, Brianna Justice. It was nice meeting you.”

  It took several seconds before my voice came back. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

  We were just staring at each other like two dopes when Adam came back. He tapped Neptune on the shoulder and without a word, they both turned. And left.

  I didn’t even say good-bye. One second he was right beside me, the next he was gone.

  My phone beeped and I read the message:

  NEPTUNE: Left you a package at hotel earlier. Check at desk. Stay in touch, Madame President :-)

  When I looked up, Mom moved closer. “You okay, baby?”

  I hugged her, feeling a rush of emotions. My face was buried in her jacket.

  She gave me a squeeze. “I know, baby. Wait ’til I tell your father.”

  My head snapped up:

  “Mom! He must never know!”

  By the time the six o’clock news came on, we were back at the hotel. Uncle helped Mom sneak me in through the rear loading dock because news crews were camped out front. When I made it up to our floor, several kids from my school—and other schools, too—stopped and applauded.

  At first, it made me feel goofy. But after so much crazy stuff, it felt good to feel goofy. I did a big bow, then stood and waved.

  That was when I noticed a guy with a sash across his chest. It said LEADERSHIP SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE! He must’ve won the award for best speech.

  It was hard to believe that only a few days earlier the idea of winning that award was the most important thing in the world. I wanted to win because winning was important. At least, that was what I thought.

  And I’d wanted to be featured in Executive, Jr., because I thought it would help my cupcake business.

  The idea of having to congratulate someone else because they’d won had been enough to keep me awake at night.

  Now, here I was, facing the winner. And I hadn’t even gotten to compete.

  But I’d learned so much in the past few days.

  I learned that finding your purpose isn’t something you have to study or learn. Just something you need to feel. Purpose is just a way of knowing what is important to you and knowing what you can do about it.

  Coming to D.C. was supposed to mean rebuilding my relationship with my friends. Instead, it meant figuring out that I had made new friends. And so had Sara and Becks. And as much as it hurt, that was okay.

  I looked at the boy wearing the sash, stuck out my hand, and said, “Congratulations! Sorry I missed your speech.”

  He said, “Thank you! And congratulations on your speech, too!”

  The rest of the night was spent having pizza parties and dancing around with bedsheets tied over our clothes to look like togas.

  Click came up to me, holding a little figure that looked like she was running for office. He clicked her plastic hair up and down on her head.

  “Think it’s time for a little moviemaking?” I asked.

  Click! Click! Click!

  Pretty soon, we had the whole party involved.

  Click had brought along some LEGO pieces; he’d bought new ones since arriving in D.C.

  I sat between Red and Romeo James on the floor at the foot of one of the beds. Lauren said, “Guess what’s the world record for the largest full-scale model built with LEGOs? It’s the X-Wing fighter and it contains five million three hundred and thirty-five thousand two hundred LEGO bricks!”

  The whole room went silent for a second. We all looked at Lauren. Her face looked so happy. Her cheeks were rosy pink.

  “Too bad they can’t put your name in the record books with that senator lady,” Romeo James said to her. He looked at me. “You, too, Brianna. Y’all rocked it. For real.”

  A knock at the door made us lo
ok up. It opened and Mom stepped in carrying a box.

  She said, “This was at the front desk for you.” She handed it to me and looked around. “Everybody doing okay?”

  They were talking to her and she was talking to them, but I was just focused on what was inside the box.

  I opened it, then read the card:

  People say “stay in touch” all the time, but they don’t really mean it. I do. Please stay in touch. It was good to meet you, Brianna Justice. Oh, and by the way, don’t go getting any ideas just because I gave you this gift. I had like three of them, two I’d never opened. Consider it my donation to your business. Good luck.

  It was from Neptune.

  An iPad.

  Well, naturally, everyone wanted me to explain everything, going back to how I’d met the President’s nephew while being trapped in an elevator. I may have added a few details here and there. You know? To make the story more entertaining. The one thing I didn’t mention, though, was the kiss.

  Although, I figured one day soon, I’d want to talk about it with Red and Lauren. My new girls.

  The very first thing I did with my new iPad was take photos of our LEGO creations. I had shown it to Mom, with the card, and after calling Miss Letitia at the White House, she said I could keep it!

  Click had bought pieces to make his version of the National Mall. He used a lot of white bricks to make it look like snow and ice covered everything.

  We were still in our bedsheet togas, lying on the floor.

  “What’re you gonna call your movie?” Ebony said.

  To everyone’s surprise, it wasn’t me who answered. It was Click.

  “To celebrate Brianna’s love of crazy horror movies, as well as her love of politics, I dub thee Sharks at the Mall!” The National Mall, that is.

  And with that, he made a plastic shark zoom into the air and fly right over a figurine of Abraham Lincoln.

  We all cheered.

  Everyone was still carrying on, laughing and having a good time, when someone else knocked.