Mayor Hubble Is in Trouble! (5 page)

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.
“‘De
bate'!”

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....