Dodger for President by Jordan Sonnenblick

made me happy.”
    â€œWhat did he do that was so great?” James asked.
    â€œHe punched you,” Lizzie said, smiling sweetly. “Now, the way I see it, we could say that Willie punched you . . .”
    â€œNo way!” James interjected.
    â€œ. . . or maybe it would be better if we said that
I
punched you . . .”
    â€œ
Me
get punched by a girl? Who would believe
that
?”
    Lizzie chuckled. “I know a lot of people who would have no trouble at all believing that.”
    â€œWell, I won’t do it! No
way
will I say that either of you gave me this black eye.”
    Then Craig spoke up. “Guys, don’t worry about it. I punched James, and I’ll take the punishment. I mean, it’s no big deal. I just realized something, anyway: I don’t need my cell phone for Tyler to call me. As long as he has his cell phone, he can just call my house. It’s not the end of the world. Besides, I never really wanted to be vice president anyway. I only agreed to run so James’s parents wouldn’t think he was a failu—”
    â€œThat’s ENOUGH!” James said. “Fine, I’ll just go in there and say I didn’t see anything. The rest of you can say whatever the heck you want. Just be quiet about me and my parents, Craig. I mean it.”
    Craig nodded.
    Then the principal’s door opened. Her name isDr. Whistleblower. I had never been sent to her before, but I knew she was a scary lady. Mostly she just hid in her office, but I’d heard stories. Some kids said she had a pet cobra that she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk. Others said the candy on her little coffee table was made of truth serum, and that if you ate even one piece, you’d be willing to rat out your own mother. And this one second grader who hangs out with my sister swears that she once saw Dr. Whistleblower on a daytime TV talk show about people with violent personality disorders. According to this kid, Dr. W. was throwing chairs around the set, shouting, “You want a piece of me?” Watching Dr. W. now as she cracked her knuckles and gave us the evil eye, I had no trouble believing that last story.
    I don’t know how long it usually takes for a kid to crack in that office, but I’m proud to say that even after maybe twenty minutes of threats, bribe offers, and out-and-out blackmail, none of us told Dr. Whistleblower anything. She had just announced that if we didn’t talk, she would have to suspend us all, when I heard
POOF,
and Dodgerappeared behind her. He was holding his blue telephone in one hand and a spray bottle labeled ESSENCE OF BELIEF in the other.
    Craig and James didn’t react at all, of course, because they couldn’t see Dodger. But Lizzie looked at me with panic in her eyes. Dodger smiled at us and mouthed,
Don’t worry, dudes. I’ve got this under control!
Then he sprayed the air in front of Dr. Whistleblower’s face. I put my head in my hands; I couldn’t bear to see what happened next.
    When Dr. W.’s phone rang a moment later, I must have jumped about three feet. She picked it up and said, “Hello, this is Dr. Whistleblower.”
    I looked up. Dodger’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear the words. Dr. W. sat up straighter in her chair, covered the mouthpiece of her phone, and said, “Ooh, it’s the State Department of Education! They’re calling about your case.”
    Dodger gave us the thumbs-up sign. I swear, I almost fainted.
    â€œYes, Dr. Chimpstone. I’m honored that you’re calling me today. Yes, of course I’ll put us on speakerphone.”
    Now Dodger’s voice was coming through thephone’s speaker. He said, “Guess what, dude? I mean, lady dude.”
    Dr. W. looked puzzled but said, “What? Umm . . . state dude?”
    â€œThis is your lucky day! Here at the State Department of Education’s Division of Complicated and