by Ron Roy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2001 by Ron Roy
Interior illustrations copyright © 2001 by Random House, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks and A Stepping Stone Book and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Roy, Ron.
Who cloned the President? / by Ron Roy ; illustrated by Liza Woodruff,
p. cm. — (Capital mysteries ; #1)
“A Stepping Stone Book.”
Summary: KC discovers that the President of the United States has been replaced by a clone and sets out with her friend Marshall on a dangerous mission to set things right.
eISBN: 978-0-307-54924-2
[1. Cloning—Fiction.] I. Woodruff, Liza, ill. II. Title. III. Series.
PZ7.R8139W1 2003 [Fic]—dc21 2002156112
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1_r1
Dedicated to kids who love books
—R.R.
To Carolyn
—L.W.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1. KC’s Discovery
2. The Plan
3. Spider Surprise
4. Under the Bed
5. Two Presidents
6. Locked In
7. Rescued
8. Secret Passageway
9. Slumber Party
10. Spiders Rule
1
KC’s Discovery
KC Corcoran pulled a slip of paper out of her teacher’s baseball cap. She read the words on the paper and grinned.
“Who did you get, KC?” Mr. Alubicki asked.
“President Thornton,” KC said.
“No fair!” Marshall Li protested. “You already know everything about him.”
Mr. Alubicki smiled and passed the hat to Marshall, KC’s best friend. Marshall picked a slip. “Herbert Hoover?” he said. “I don’t even know who he is!”
“But you’ll know all about him after you write your report,” his teacher said.
Mr. Alubicki finished passing the hat around the room. “Okay, everyone, have a great weekend. Get started on your president reports. We’ll discuss them Monday.”
KC grabbed her backpack and followed Marshall out the door. They walked home together every day.
KC and Marshall lived in the same ten-story building in Washington, D.C. It stood between a pet shop and a Chinese restaurant.
They stopped on the way home to watch puppies and kittens through the pet-shop window.
“Why is everyone so crazy about furry animals?” Marshall asked. “Spiders make great pets, too!”
KC laughed. “Marsh, you can’t cuddle up with a spider.”
“Who says you can’t?” Marshall asked. “I wish Mr. A. would let us write about insects instead of presidents.”
Marshall loved anything with more than four legs. He kept jars of crawly things in his bedroom. Spike, his pet tarantula, slept in one of Marsh’s old baseball caps.
“Presidents’ Day is in February,” KC reminded her friend. “If we had an insects’ day, Mr. A. would let you write about Spike.”
“Spike’s not an insect,” Marshall said. “Tarantulas are spiders, and spiders are arachnids.”
“I know, I know,” KC said as she pushed open the glass door of their building. “You’ve told me a hundred times!”
“And you still don’t remember,” grumbled Marshall. He pushed the elevator button.
Donald, the building manager, opened the elevator door. Donald ran the elevator and helped people get taxis out front.
“Hi, kids,” Donald said. “Got plans for the weekend?”
“We have to write reports,” Marshall told him. “About dead presidents.”
“Mine’s not dead,” KC told Donald. “I picked President Thornton!”
Donald smiled as he pressed the button for Marshall’s floor. “Lucky you! Maybe you’ll see him around town.”
Marshall got off on the third floor, and Donald took KC to the fifth. She let herself into the apartment with her key.
Lost and Found, her two kittens, came skidding across the wood floor when the door opened. KC rubbed their bellies, then headed for the kitchen.
A note was taped to the fridge.
KC—I’ll be home around six. Have a snack. Love, Mom.
KC grabbed a banana and walked into the living room. Lost and Found scurried after her. She pulled Your Presidents from a bookshelf and looked up President Thornton.
“Listen,” she said to the kittens. “Zachary Thornton had five brothers and sisters. He raised chickens and sold eggs to help his family.” Then the caption of a picture caught her eye. “As a Boy Scout, Zachary Thornton earned twelve merit badges,” she read.
“See, Marshall was wrong,” KC mumbled. “I don’t know everything about President Thornton. I had no idea he got twelve badges in Scouts.”
KC marked the page, then switched on her mom’s computer. She logged on to the Internet and found more about President Thornton. “Zachary Thornton is our fourth left-handed president,” KC read.
“Cool. We’re both left-handed!” KC said. She kept reading and noticed a headline from The Washington Post newspaper. “President Thornton Says No to Human Cloning.”
KC read the rest of the paragraph about scientists cloning animals. Marshall had told her that some scientists wanted to clone humans.
“I’m glad the president said no,” she said. “I only want one of me!”
KC shut off the computer and turned on the TV. She flopped on the sofa and pulled the kittens onto her lap.
Cindy Sparks, the White House reporter, was just signing off.
“Someday that’ll be me,” KC told her kittens. She planned to become a TV anchorwoman after college.
KC peeled the banana and channel surfed. She found a live special on President Thornton at a press conference in the White House.
“Tomorrow morning,” said President Thornton, “I will make an announcement that will change human life forever.”
Then someone handed the president a stack of papers. He signed them slowly, as if he were tired. He didn’t smile or talk to anyone around him. He just took a paper, signed it, and reached for another.
Hmmm, thought KC. It’s not like him to be so quiet and serious. He looks sick.
KC noticed something else. “That’s weird,” she said. She called Marshall and told him to turn on channel 3.
“It’s the president,” Marshall said a few seconds later. “So?”
“Do you see anything weird?”
“Like what?”
“Marsh, he’s signing those papers with his right hand!”
Marshall laughed. “You called to tell me the president is right-handed?”
“No, he’s left-handed!”
“Oooh, let’s call 911,” Marshall said.
KC kept staring at the president on TV. Signing with the wrong hand. Looking tired and way too serious. Almost like a differ
ent person.…
Her imagination kicked in. What if this guy was a fake? What if the real president had been kidnapped? What if he’d been drugged or … KC shook her head.
She could almost hear her mom warning her—for the millionth time—not to jump to conclusions.
Then she remembered that headline: “President Thornton Says No to Human Cloning.”
“That’s it!” KC cried.
“Marshall, get up here right now!” she yelled into the phone. “Someone cloned the president!”
2
The Plan
A few minutes later, KC’s doorbell rang. She let Marshall in.
“All right,” he said. He threw himself onto the sofa. “Tell me why you think the president has been cloned.”
KC sat in the chair by Marshall. “You don’t believe me? Look!” On the TV, President Thornton continued to sign papers. “He’s signing papers with his right hand!”
Marshall stared at KC. “That means he was cloned? Maybe he hurt his left hand.”
“There’s other stuff, Marsh,” KC said. She pointed to the TV just as the president stood up. He walked away without saying a word. “Don’t you think that’s weird?” asked KC. “He didn’t smile or shake hands or anything. He acts like I did when I had the flu!”
“So, maybe he has the flu.”
KC glared at Marshall. “Having the flu wouldn’t make him sign papers with his other hand!” she said. “Something is wrong with him!”
Marshall glanced at the TV screen. The president was gone. Reporters were packing up to leave. “He did look a little different,” Marshall admitted.
“He looked different because it wasn’t him!” KC said. “It was a clone!”
Marshall stared at KC for a minute. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s say you’re right. The President of the United States has been cloned. Who did it? Why? When?”
KC paced back and forth in front of the sofa. “I don’t know! Don’t try to confuse me,” she said. “But that guy on TV didn’t act the way our president acts. I know, Marshall. I watch him every night!” KC kept pacing.
“You’re making me dizzy,” Marshall said.
“Shhh, I’m thinking,” KC said. She stopped pacing. “Got it!”
Marshall slumped into the sofa pillows. “I don’t think I want to hear this,” he muttered.
“Listen, I’ll tell my mom I’m sleeping at your apartment tonight. You tell your parents you’re sleeping here.”
“Why?”
KC shoved him toward the door. “I’ll tell you later. Meet me downstairs in five minutes!”
“But wh—?”
“And bring a jar of your spiders!”
Before Marshall could say another word, KC slammed the door. Grinning, she ran to the kitchen. She wrote a note for her mom, then grabbed some snacks from the fridge.
She charged into her bedroom and dumped the school stuff out of her backpack. She tossed in the snacks, a flashlight, her Swiss Army knife, and a tape recorder. At the last minute, she opened her bank and took out a fistful of money.
She grabbed a jacket, said good-bye to her kittens, then let herself out of the apartment.
Donald opened the elevator door. “Going out again, KC?”
“Me and Marshall are doing some research for our reports,” she said.
It’s not a total lie, thought KC. She paced as she waited for Marshall in the lobby.
When he showed up with his backpack, KC dragged him outside.
“Did you bring the spiders?” she asked, heading toward the bus stop.
“Yeah, but where are we going?”
“To help the president. He needs us.”
Marshall stopped walking. “KC, I’ve known you practically my whole life. But you’re acting weird. Why does the president need two fourth graders?”
The number 6 bus stopped. KC dropped quarters into the box, then pulled Marshall into a seat.
“I’m waiting,” Marshall said.
KC glanced around her. The bus was nearly empty.
“Okay, I think the guy on TV was a fake or a clone,” KC whispered. “If he is, what happened to the real president?”
Before Marshall could open his mouth, KC went on. “Marshall, the president is in danger! And we’re going to save him!”
Marshall shook his head. “I’m in my bed. I’m having a terrible nightmare.”
KC opened her eyes innocently. “All I want to do is help my country!”
Marshall stared glumly out the window. “Another question,” he said. “We both lied about where we’re sleeping tonight. So, where are we really sleeping?”
KC grinned. “In the White House.”
3
Spider Surprise
The bus dropped them a short walk away from the White House.
KC looked at her watch. “That must be the last tour of the day. Let’s get in line.”
Since it was February, there weren’t many tourists. KC grabbed Marshall’s arm and joined the group.
“KC, can I ask a dumb question?” he whispered. “Why am I sneaking a jar of spiders into the White House?”
KC whispered her plan.
“Now I know you’re nuts!” he hissed. “We’re not going to sleep in the White House. We’re going to sleep in jail!”
KC shushed him. “Just remember to throw the spiders when I give you the signal,” she whispered.
“But how will I get them back?” Marshall asked. “I raised these spiders from babies! They love me!”
“Marshall, just think. Your spiders are going to save the President of the United States,” KC said. “They’ll be famous! Charlotte only saved a pig!”
“Charlotte who?”
KC raised her eyebrows.
“Oh,” Marshall said, looking embarrassed. “That Charlotte. Anyway, what’s your signal?”
KC thought for a moment. “Neck. When I say neck, you toss the spiders.”
“Neck? How’re you gonna work ‘neck’ into a conversation?”
“Trust me. Just be ready, okay?”
The line moved. Pretty soon KC and Marshall were inside the White House.
A woman in a blue suit met the group. “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Debbie. I’ll be your guide today. And since Lincoln’s birthday was last week, we have opened the Lincoln bedroom for all tours!”
“Will we see President Thornton?” someone asked.
Debbie smiled. “I know he’s in the building. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Marshall smiled for the first time in an hour. “Maybe I can get the president’s autograph!” he said.
In the Lincoln bedroom, the guide pointed out the paintings and antique furniture. “In Lincoln’s term, this was not a bedroom. So he never slept in this magnificent bed,” Debbie told the crowd.
The tourists said “oooh” a lot and asked questions.
“Open the jar,” KC whispered.
Marshall stared at her. “Here? Now?”
She nodded. “Move away from me. Mix in with the crowd.” She pointed to her neck. “And get ready for you-know-what!”
With a sick look on his face, Marshall went to stand behind three nuns. KC watched him stick both hands inside his backpack.
“If there are no more questions,” the guide said, “we can move on to—”
“I have a question,” KC said. She waved her arm like she did in school.
“Yes?” Debbie asked.
Everyone turned to look at KC. Suddenly she screamed, “SOMETHING IS ON MY NECK!”
She began jumping and slapping at her neck. “MY NECK! SOMETHING IS CRAWLING ON MY NECK!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marshall toss the spiders. No one else noticed. They were all staring at KC.
Then a woman screamed. “SPIDERS! THERE ARE SPIDERS IN MY HAIR!”
“Ugh!” the guide yelled. She swiped at a black spider crawling on her arm.
Suddenly there seemed to be spiders everywhere. Two dozen tourists panicked at onc
e.
Everyone ran out of the room, screaming and slapping at their bodies.
With an unhappy look on his face, Marshall slipped the empty jar into his backpack.
KC looked around. They were alone. She grabbed Marshall and dragged him down under the Lincoln bed.
“It worked!” KC whispered.
“And we’re fourth-grade felons!” hissed Marshall. “Plus, I lost all my spiders!”
“Your spiders will be heroes,” KC said.
“But we’ll be prisoners,” Marshall sputtered. “Why do I listen to you?”
“Because I’m your best friend,” KC said, calmly opening her backpack.
“Juice?” she asked.
4
Under the Bed
KC drank her apple juice and ate raisin cookies. Marshall curled into a ball and glared at her.
“Aren’t you hungry?” KC asked.
No answer.
“Are you really mad at me?”
Marshall closed his eyes.
“Okay, but there are only two more cookies!”
Marshall reached out a hand. “If we ever get out of here,” he said, “I might forgive you.”
They finished the rest of the snacks in silence.
KC kept checking her watch. Marshall sighed a lot and looked for his spiders. He didn’t see any.
KC curled up and took a nap.
Marshall scratched at a mosquito bite on his ankle.
Hours later, a clock bonged ten times.
“Finally!” KC said. “Okay, Marsh, it’s ten o’clock. Let’s go.” She crawled out from under the bed.
Marshall was right behind her. “Go where?” he asked, stretching his back.
The Lincoln bedroom was dark. Only a small light was on, near one of the doors.
“To rescue the president,” KC said. She smiled at her best friend. “Maybe you will get that autograph,” she added.
Marshall snorted. “I bet he’s brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Like we’re supposed to be doing!”
KC smiled. “And the real president brushes his teeth with his left hand!”
She opened the door and peeked into the hall. Like the bedroom, it was nearly dark. Small lights shone on the portraits hanging on the walls. Vases of flowers stood on polished tables.
