Winchell stands for . . . MORE SCHOOL
PLAYS."
The cheers and boos were much louder from both sides.
Christie saw Laura looking furious and switching the tail of her long braid
like a cat.
"VOTE FOR CHRISTIE WINCHELL FOR SEVENTH-GRADE CLASS
PRESIDENT! SHE CAN MAKE IT HAPPEN!" cried Beth's voice over the
speakers.
Christie blushed as the Mark Twain kids came up to her to congratulate
her on the recording. Between them she saw Jon Smith sitting in a booth in a
far corner with some other boys from Copper Beach. He was looking at her, and
she couldn't help wondering what he was thinking.
"My gosh, I've never seen so many oranges in my life,"
said Katie as the five friends stood in Jana's kitchen. They had giggled all
the way to Jana's apartment from Bumpers. Laura had really looked mad after the
recording had played.
There were oranges in mesh bags on the counters, loose oranges
that Jana had dumped onto the table, and boxes of oranges on the floor. One
orange rolled off the table and landed on Beth's foot. They were surrounded by
oranges.
"Okay. If we're going to get all of these oranges done,
we'd better get started. The one who works fastest gets to eat one!" cried
Melanie. "Who wants to wipe oranges, who wants to make stickers, and who
wants to stick them on?"
"Me! I'll make stickers," shouted Beth.
"I'll make stickers, too," cried Katie.
"I'll stick them on," said Jana.
"I'll take them out of the bags and boxes and put them
back in," said Melanie. "What about you, Christie?"
Christie sighed and looked at the mountains of oranges. "I
guess I'll wipe them," she offered halfheartedly.
They began laughing and chattering as they wrote "CURE
ALL YOUR TROUBLES WITH VITAMIN C—VOTE FOR CHRISTIE WINCHELL" on stickers,
peeled off the backing, and stuck them on the oranges, then put them back into
the bags and boxes. All of them laughed except Christie. She couldn't get the
look on Jon's face out of her mind. The one he'd had after her campaign tape
had played at Bumpers.
CHAPTER 11
Jon had redone his homework for chapters two, three, and
four and gotten nearly all the problems correct. Christie was amazed at how
accurate and neat his papers were, and he smiled proudly when she told him so.
"It's because of your help," he said. "You're
a good teacher." Then he changed the subject.
"I was at Bumpers this afternoon when you played the
recording. It really went over big. You probably have a good chance of being
elected class president."
Christie looked down. The tape had gone over well,
and it had been exciting when the kids were all congratulating her. But it didn't
change anything. After the fun of planning the campaign with her friends was all
over, if she won, she would be president.
"You really don't want to be class president, do you?"
he asked as if he had read her mind.
She shook her head without saying anything.
"Why are you running, then?" he asked.
"My friends want me to. I promised them I'd try. And my
parents would be disappointed, too, if I dropped out of the election."
"That's the difference between the two of us, I guess,"
he said, frowning. "You try to satisfy everyone, and I don't try to
satisfy anyone, because I know I can't."
"But you can do well when you really want to," she
insisted. "Look at how fast you're catching up in math."
He smiled at her. "For some reason I feel like trying
now. Maybe you shouldn't try so hard. I don't mean that you should be
like me or make bad grades. I mean, just don't do everything everyone wants you
to."
"I don't know," she answered. "I've done it
all my life."
"Don't get me wrong," he added quickly. "It's
just that you're important, too. If you keep being the person everybody else
thinks you should be, you'll never find out who the real Christie is."
"And if you keep copping out," she added, looking
deep into his eyes, "you'll never know how special you can be."
Neither of them said anything for a minute. Then Jon
grinned. "What's that old saying about a
PLAYS."
The cheers and boos were much louder from both sides.
Christie saw Laura looking furious and switching the tail of her long braid
like a cat.
"VOTE FOR CHRISTIE WINCHELL FOR SEVENTH-GRADE CLASS
PRESIDENT! SHE CAN MAKE IT HAPPEN!" cried Beth's voice over the
speakers.
Christie blushed as the Mark Twain kids came up to her to congratulate
her on the recording. Between them she saw Jon Smith sitting in a booth in a
far corner with some other boys from Copper Beach. He was looking at her, and
she couldn't help wondering what he was thinking.
"My gosh, I've never seen so many oranges in my life,"
said Katie as the five friends stood in Jana's kitchen. They had giggled all
the way to Jana's apartment from Bumpers. Laura had really looked mad after the
recording had played.
There were oranges in mesh bags on the counters, loose oranges
that Jana had dumped onto the table, and boxes of oranges on the floor. One
orange rolled off the table and landed on Beth's foot. They were surrounded by
oranges.
"Okay. If we're going to get all of these oranges done,
we'd better get started. The one who works fastest gets to eat one!" cried
Melanie. "Who wants to wipe oranges, who wants to make stickers, and who
wants to stick them on?"
"Me! I'll make stickers," shouted Beth.
"I'll make stickers, too," cried Katie.
"I'll stick them on," said Jana.
"I'll take them out of the bags and boxes and put them
back in," said Melanie. "What about you, Christie?"
Christie sighed and looked at the mountains of oranges. "I
guess I'll wipe them," she offered halfheartedly.
They began laughing and chattering as they wrote "CURE
ALL YOUR TROUBLES WITH VITAMIN C—VOTE FOR CHRISTIE WINCHELL" on stickers,
peeled off the backing, and stuck them on the oranges, then put them back into
the bags and boxes. All of them laughed except Christie. She couldn't get the
look on Jon's face out of her mind. The one he'd had after her campaign tape
had played at Bumpers.
CHAPTER 11
Jon had redone his homework for chapters two, three, and
four and gotten nearly all the problems correct. Christie was amazed at how
accurate and neat his papers were, and he smiled proudly when she told him so.
"It's because of your help," he said. "You're
a good teacher." Then he changed the subject.
"I was at Bumpers this afternoon when you played the
recording. It really went over big. You probably have a good chance of being
elected class president."
Christie looked down. The tape had gone over well,
and it had been exciting when the kids were all congratulating her. But it didn't
change anything. After the fun of planning the campaign with her friends was all
over, if she won, she would be president.
"You really don't want to be class president, do you?"
he asked as if he had read her mind.
She shook her head without saying anything.
"Why are you running, then?" he asked.
"My friends want me to. I promised them I'd try. And my
parents would be disappointed, too, if I dropped out of the election."
"That's the difference between the two of us, I guess,"
he said, frowning. "You try to satisfy everyone, and I don't try to
satisfy anyone, because I know I can't."
"But you can do well when you really want to," she
insisted. "Look at how fast you're catching up in math."
He smiled at her. "For some reason I feel like trying
now. Maybe you shouldn't try so hard. I don't mean that you should be
like me or make bad grades. I mean, just don't do everything everyone wants you
to."
"I don't know," she answered. "I've done it
all my life."
"Don't get me wrong," he added quickly. "It's
just that you're important, too. If you keep being the person everybody else
thinks you should be, you'll never find out who the real Christie is."
"And if you keep copping out," she added, looking
deep into his eyes, "you'll never know how special you can be."
Neither of them said anything for a minute. Then Jon
grinned. "What's that old saying about a
Similar Books
