treatment.
She must be feeling sorry for me,
Deja thinks. Why else would she suddenly act nice? "You could win," Nikki adds.
Deja doesn't say anything. She wants to believe it. But she can't. Gregory Johnson's speech was too good and he's so popular. She doesn't stand a chance. That's what she repeats to herself all the way home:
I don't stand a chance.
She's still thinking this when Auntie Dee looks over at her across the dinner table and says, "How was your speech?"
"It was okay." Deja looks down at her foodâvegetarian lasagnaâand pushes the carrots to the side. She'll get to them later. "Some of the other kids' speeches were better. Except Arthur's from Mr. Beaumont's class and Sheena's from Mrs. Miller's class. They were pretty bad. And this other girl read hers and couldn't even pronounce all the words."
"Do you understand why I wanted you to do it on your own without a lot of help from me?" Auntie Dee launches into her self-esteem talkâhow true self-esteem comes out of one's own behavior and decisions and personal responsibility. Which means it's sometimes best if she lets Deja do things on her own, and blah, blah, blah. Deja still really wishes Auntie had written her speech for her. She takes a bite of whole wheat pasta. She chews and chews. It's more rubbery than the nice, soft, white kind that Nikki's mother serves.
"So, what happened?" Auntie asks.
"I forgot most of my speech and my promises sounded dumb."
Auntie chuckles and says, "It's not the end of the world."
"And now Lashonda or Gregory Johnson is probably going to win."
"What grades are they in?" Auntie asks.
"Fourth and fifth."
"Hmm," Auntie says. "Aren't there just two fourth grades and two fifth grades?"
"Yeah," says Deja.
"And then aren't there three third grades?"
"Yeah..." Deja wonders what Auntie is getting at.
"Maybe the lower grades will vote for you."
"Or Sheena or Arthur," Deja says.
"Just don't give up yet."
Deja has just about given up, despite Auntie Dee's pep talk. But then an idea comes to her in the middle of the night. Something has been missing from her campaign. Stuff! Giveaways! Like campaign buttons! If only she had campaign buttons. She needs lots and lots of themâenough for the two first grades (kindergarten isn't voting), the two second grades, and the three third grades. One hundred and forty buttons! How is she going to get one hundred and forty buttons? How much would that even cost? She thinks and thinks so much, it's hard to get back to sleep.
"You don't even know how to make campaign buttons," Nikki says on the way to school the next day.
"Well, what else can I do? I've got to do something."
Nikki's face lights up. "I know! Why don't you make cookies with icing that says 'Vote for Deja'?"
It takes a moment for Nikki's idea to register. Deja thinks of the candy rule. "I don't know if we'll be able to give out cookies, since we can't give out candy."
"Cookies aren't candy," Nikki says. "It's the same as when someone has a birthday and their mom brings cupcakes. It's exactly the same."
"I betcha we're the only ones thinking of this," Deja says, her eyes getting bigger and bigger with excitement.
"How can we give them out?"
"I bet Ms. Shelby will let us pass them outâif it's after lunch, maybe close to the end of the day, and all our work is done."
The more Deja thinks of this plan, the more everything seems to come together. They'll have to get permission right away. Then they'll have to get Auntie or Nikki's mom to buy the ingredients, and then they'll have to make the cookies. The vote is on Friday, so they'll have to hand out the cookies tomorrow. The memory of their delicious taste will still be fresh when the little kids cast their vote.
A big grin spreads across Deja's face as she thinks of all the votes she's bound to get. "This is going to work!" she exclaims.
Ms. Shelby listens politely to their proposal. Perhaps she's thinking of all the times some birthday kid from
She must be feeling sorry for me,
Deja thinks. Why else would she suddenly act nice? "You could win," Nikki adds.
Deja doesn't say anything. She wants to believe it. But she can't. Gregory Johnson's speech was too good and he's so popular. She doesn't stand a chance. That's what she repeats to herself all the way home:
I don't stand a chance.
She's still thinking this when Auntie Dee looks over at her across the dinner table and says, "How was your speech?"
"It was okay." Deja looks down at her foodâvegetarian lasagnaâand pushes the carrots to the side. She'll get to them later. "Some of the other kids' speeches were better. Except Arthur's from Mr. Beaumont's class and Sheena's from Mrs. Miller's class. They were pretty bad. And this other girl read hers and couldn't even pronounce all the words."
"Do you understand why I wanted you to do it on your own without a lot of help from me?" Auntie Dee launches into her self-esteem talkâhow true self-esteem comes out of one's own behavior and decisions and personal responsibility. Which means it's sometimes best if she lets Deja do things on her own, and blah, blah, blah. Deja still really wishes Auntie had written her speech for her. She takes a bite of whole wheat pasta. She chews and chews. It's more rubbery than the nice, soft, white kind that Nikki's mother serves.
"So, what happened?" Auntie asks.
"I forgot most of my speech and my promises sounded dumb."
Auntie chuckles and says, "It's not the end of the world."
"And now Lashonda or Gregory Johnson is probably going to win."
"What grades are they in?" Auntie asks.
"Fourth and fifth."
"Hmm," Auntie says. "Aren't there just two fourth grades and two fifth grades?"
"Yeah," says Deja.
"And then aren't there three third grades?"
"Yeah..." Deja wonders what Auntie is getting at.
"Maybe the lower grades will vote for you."
"Or Sheena or Arthur," Deja says.
"Just don't give up yet."
Deja has just about given up, despite Auntie Dee's pep talk. But then an idea comes to her in the middle of the night. Something has been missing from her campaign. Stuff! Giveaways! Like campaign buttons! If only she had campaign buttons. She needs lots and lots of themâenough for the two first grades (kindergarten isn't voting), the two second grades, and the three third grades. One hundred and forty buttons! How is she going to get one hundred and forty buttons? How much would that even cost? She thinks and thinks so much, it's hard to get back to sleep.
"You don't even know how to make campaign buttons," Nikki says on the way to school the next day.
"Well, what else can I do? I've got to do something."
Nikki's face lights up. "I know! Why don't you make cookies with icing that says 'Vote for Deja'?"
It takes a moment for Nikki's idea to register. Deja thinks of the candy rule. "I don't know if we'll be able to give out cookies, since we can't give out candy."
"Cookies aren't candy," Nikki says. "It's the same as when someone has a birthday and their mom brings cupcakes. It's exactly the same."
"I betcha we're the only ones thinking of this," Deja says, her eyes getting bigger and bigger with excitement.
"How can we give them out?"
"I bet Ms. Shelby will let us pass them outâif it's after lunch, maybe close to the end of the day, and all our work is done."
The more Deja thinks of this plan, the more everything seems to come together. They'll have to get permission right away. Then they'll have to get Auntie or Nikki's mom to buy the ingredients, and then they'll have to make the cookies. The vote is on Friday, so they'll have to hand out the cookies tomorrow. The memory of their delicious taste will still be fresh when the little kids cast their vote.
A big grin spreads across Deja's face as she thinks of all the votes she's bound to get. "This is going to work!" she exclaims.
Ms. Shelby listens politely to their proposal. Perhaps she's thinking of all the times some birthday kid from
Similar Books
