Turkey Trouble on the National Mall (2 page)

“KC, there is no turkey pen on the National Mall,” Marshall said.

“Not yet,” KC said. “Now you hold the picture of Cloud, and I’ll hold the sign.”

Marshall sighed. He stood up with the picture in front of his chest. “I feel like a turkey,” he muttered.

KC giggled. “You look like one, too!” she told him.

A lot of tourists read KC’s sign and looked
at her drawing of Cloud. Most just smiled and kept walking.

“Cool turkey,” one man said.

A jogger stopped running, read the sign, and shook his head. “No turkey on Thanksgiving? No way!” Then he kept on running.

“No one wants to give up their turkey,” Marshall said after they’d been standing there for a half hour.

KC didn’t say anything. She felt disappointed. She had recognized a few of the men and women who hurried past, carrying briefcases. They were senators and representatives. She’d seen them on TV and at the White House.

“There you are!” a familiar voice said from behind KC.

The vice president strode toward the kids, holding her cell phone to her ear. She dropped the phone into her briefcase. Then she read KC’s sign and admired the
drawing. “So you’re still trying to get people to give up their turkeys?” she asked KC.

KC nodded. “But Marshall and I are the only two who think it’s a good idea,” she said.

“Well, count me in,” the vice president said. “Once people hear about your idea, I think we’ll get a lot of turkeys. And I’ll try to win the president over, too. If we can convince other people, I’ll ask the president to build a pen on the National Mall!”

A tall man in a dark suit stopped. “Hello, Vice President Kincaid,” he said. “What brings you here?”

The vice president smiled. “Hello, Senator Scott. Have you met KC, the president’s stepdaughter? KC and her friend Marshall are asking people to consider pardoning their turkeys this year. How about it, Senator Scott?”

The senator read KC’s sign. “Like the president does every year, right?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” KC said. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know that your turkey was living on a farm, playing with other turkeys?”

The senator smiled. “You’re very convincing, young lady. I’ll talk to Mrs. Scott tonight. But you’ve already sold me on the idea!”

KC and Marshall beamed. “Thank you!” they both cried.

As soon as people began to recognize the vice president, a crowd formed around KC and Marshall. The kids tried hard to convince everyone to pardon a turkey and to bring it to the pen.

By the time KC, Marshall, and the vice president left for the White House, hundreds of people had read KC’s sign. Many of them thought it was a terrific idea to pardon their own turkeys.

“When can I bring my turkey to the pen?” a congresswoman asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” the vice president
said. Then she whispered to KC and Marshall, “If I can get a certain president to agree!”

Later, the president listened to Mary Kincaid and the kids as they told him about meeting people on the Capitol steps.

“Maybe you’re not too young to run for Congress,” he told KC. “Okay, I’m convinced. Let’s get Operation Turkey moving. Mary, how fast can you get that pen built?”

Overnight, carpenters built a pen on the lawn in front of the Smithsonian Castle on the National Mall.

On Tuesday, the vice president told KC and Marshall that their campaign was off to a huge start. “It’s catching on!” she said. “I’m getting dozens of phone calls and e-mails. People stop me on the street. They want to pardon their turkeys this year!”

Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning, more and more live turkeys were delivered to the pen on the Mall. The vice president ordered ten sacks of turkey feed.

Two park rangers were assigned to take care of the turkeys. Both of the rangers decided they would pardon their families’ turkeys, too.

People brought more turkeys on Wednesday. Tourists visiting from all over the world stopped to look at them. There was a line of cars on 14th Street. People climbed out of the cars and carried their turkeys to the pen. One man came on a bicycle with his turkey in a basket!

KC and Marshall were dismissed early from school on Wednesday, for the Thanksgiving holiday. They rushed to the White House and into the kitchen. “How many turkeys now?” KC asked her mother.

“Nearly a hundred,” Lois said. “And more on the way!”

“This is great!” KC said. “Today we’re bringing Cloud to the Mall, right?”

“Arnold and his brother are waiting to drive you,” Yvonne said. “But go upstairs and change first.”

The president had asked the marine guard Arnold and his brother, Dez, to
transport Cloud to his new pen on the Mall in Dez’s truck. The two men sat up front, while KC and Marshall climbed into the open bed of the truck, where Cloud waited in a small crate. A thick layer of straw on the floor made it soft and comfortable. Two sleeping bags lay on the straw.

“Why do you have sleeping bags and stuff back here?” KC asked Dez.

“Arnold and I took our little cousins on a hayride a few days ago,” Dez said, laughing. “They crawled into the sleeping bags and fell asleep after about twenty minutes!”

KC fed Cloud another handful of popcorn through the wire of the crate. “Wait till you see where you’re going!” she said to the turkey.

Dez’s truck left the White House grounds through a rear gate. The truck bounced across the lawn at the National Mall. Dez stopped in front of the new turkey pen.

KC and Marshall ran up to the wire-and-wood pen. They had to squeeze through a lot of people lined up at the fence. The two park rangers were inside the pen, which was filled with noisy turkeys. It was like an ocean of moving feathers. Kids were yelling questions at the park rangers.

“Why are most of the turkeys white?”

“What do they eat?”

“How do you tell boy turkeys from girl turkeys?”

Arnold and Dez took Cloud out of the crate and carried him over to the pen.

“Wait, I have a present for him,” KC said. She pulled a silver bell on a string from her pocket. She tied the bell around Cloud’s neck.

“What’s that for?” Marshall asked.

“It’ll be easier to find him when we visit him at Mount Vernon,” KC said. “We’ll be able to hear the bell!”

Arnold put Cloud into the pen and closed the gate. Right away, the forty-pound white turkey marched over to the other turkeys. He was taller than most of them, so KC and Marshall could follow him as he strutted about. The bell jingled as he walked.

KC and Marshall watched the rangers spread straw inside the pen and fill trays with food pellets and fresh water.

One of the rangers stopped, looked over KC’s head, and said, “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

KC and Marshall turned around. Marching across the National Mall lawn were six men and women. Each one wore a bright red T-shirt with EET written across the front. Below the initials were the words EAT EVERY TURKEY.

A few of the marchers carried signs. The signs said TURKEYS ARE FOOD, NOT PETS.

A man with black hair in a ponytail walked over to KC and Marshall. “I’m Barney Gibble,” he said. “I see your little campaign is off to a good start. How many more turkeys are you expecting?”

“We don’t know,” KC said. “A thousand, I hope!”

“This is ridiculous,” Barney Gibble said. “People should be eating turkeys, not making pets out of them.”

“We’re not saying they can’t,” Marshall said. “Anyone can have turkey on Thanksgiving if they want to!”

“People do have a choice,” Barney Gibble said. He had raised his voice, and some of the people around him started listening. “In fact, we’re serving turkey tomorrow night to anyone who wants a real Thanksgiving meal! Eight o’clock at Twelve New Street.”

“Visitors, Boss,” one of the women holding a sign mumbled to Barney Gibble.

A bright blue van crossed the lawn. From the top sprouted a TV satellite dish. White letters on the side of the van said DONNY DRUM NEWS HOUR! with Donny Drum’s smiling face under the words.

KC recognized Donny Drum when he leaped out of the van. He was the news anchor for a TV show that aired five evenings a week. The man had blond hair, big white teeth, and sly-looking blue eyes.

“Donny Drum,” the news anchor said as he strode toward the kids, rangers, and turkeys. He held a microphone. A man with a camera walked behind him. “Hello, Ms. Corcoran. I see you’re making news for the White House! Care to tell my viewers about your ‘Save the Turkey’ campaign?”

“She’s not making news,” Barney Gibble said. “She’s just trying to tell the American people what they can and can’t eat for Thanksgiving! She’s being a little pest!”

“PEST, PEST, PEST!” the T-shirt-wearing people shouted behind Barney Gibble, who took a step forward.

“Okay, back off!” one of the rangers warned.

“Who are you telling to back off?” Barney Gibble asked, puffing out his chest.

Donny Drum’s white teeth, microphone, and camera swung around to Barney Gibble. “And you are …?” Donny Drum asked, pointing his microphone at Barney’s chin.

KC grabbed Marshall’s arm to pull him away. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“But it was just getting good!” Marshall said.

As KC and Marshall backed away from the crowd, KC noticed a long green truck parked on the edge of the lawn.
That’s probably the truck to take the turkeys to Mount Vernon
, KC thought. She hoped the long drive wouldn’t scare Cloud and his friends.

After supper, the president, Lois, and KC watched the Donny Drum news show. The news anchor’s face appeared, his white teeth gleaming. “Good evening, friends! Donny Drum here, and I have news for you!”

Then his face faded, and the next thing viewers saw was the top of the Smithsonian Castle on the National Mall. The camera panned down until it showed the pen filled with turkeys.

“Wow!” the president said. “It looks like your idea has caught on, KC.”

KC swallowed. Before she could say anything, her own face came onto the TV. She was standing next to Marshall with people and turkeys behind them.

“KC, that’s you!” her mother cried out. “When—”

“Shhh,” the president said. “Let’s listen.”

They saw and heard the ranger tell Barney Gibble to back off, and then the camera
landed on Barney’s face. “We need to feed people,” he said into the camera, “not treat turkeys as family pets!”

The camera came back to Donny Drum, who was grinning. “And I assume you’ll be sitting down to a turkey dinner yourself tomorrow, Mr. Gibble?”

Barney Gibble’s face filled the screen. “You bet I will!” he said. “My EET friends and I are hosting a huge turkey dinner at eight o’clock tomorrow night. Everyone is welcome, ten bucks a person. The address is Twelve New Street. Come eat with EET!”

The president clicked off the TV. “Care to walk over to the Mall and show me these turkeys?” he asked KC. “Natasha needs some exercise, too.” Natasha was the president’s pet greyhound.

A few minutes later, KC clipped the leash on to the greyhound’s collar as the First Family headed away from the White House
grounds. It was dark and quiet on Pennsylvania Avenue. A cool wind blew through the bare tree branches, making a whistling sound.

Four secret service agents walked silently with them, two in front and two in back. They were all dressed in black and had earbuds in their ears. KC walked between her mom and President Thornton, holding Natasha’s leash.

KC laughed. “Wait till you hear how noisy the turkeys are!” she said. “I’m surprised we can’t hear them from the White House!”

But as the group crossed the National Mall’s wide lawn, not a sound could be heard. And as they approached the turkey pen, KC saw why. The turkeys, every single one, were gone.

“It’s EET,” KC said the next morning. “Who else would steal one hundred seventeen turkeys the day before Thanksgiving?”

KC and Marshall were in KC’s room. The night before, the president had called the director of the FBI about the theft. Detectives had gone to the Mall to look for evidence. All they found were feathers and hundreds of muddy footprints. The detectives couldn’t tell if the footprints were left by tourists or by the thieves.