The Kid Who Ran For President by Dan Gutman

States? Would you really want me in charge? I don’t know the difference between North Korea and North Carolina.
    â€œYou expect me to sign bills into law? You expect me to appoint Supreme Court justices? I’m just a snot-nosed kid !”
    For once in my life, I wasn’t goofing. And it felt good.
    â€œTo win this election,” I said, “I became everything I always hated. I turned into a liar, a fake, a fraud. The saddest part is, it worked.
    â€œAmerica must be in really bad shape if you elected me president. You better get it together and find some qualified people to run this country or we’ll all be in big trouble.
    â€œIn conclusion,” I said, “I hereby resign as president-elect of the United States of America.”
    Â 
    Have you ever heard three thousand people gasp at the same time? It’s really cool. For a second, I thought all the air was going to be sucked out of the ballroom.
    It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop in there, at least until my mom fainted and hit the floor with a thud.
    The press were all over me like ants at a picnic. “Does this make Mrs. Syers president?” somebody asked. “Will you reconsider? What about all the kids who worked so hard to get you elected? Are you finished with politics? What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
    â€œLadies and gentlemen of the press,” I announced, “I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow, much less the rest of my life. To use the words of my running mate, June Syers, the future will tell us what will happen when it’s good and ready.”
    As I trotted off the stage, everybody was looking at me like they were dead fish in a fish store.
    The first person to come over to me was Lane, of course.
    â€œOnce again, your political instincts are brilliant, Moon,” he said, clapping a hand on my back. “You make a much better candidate than you would make a president. Perfect career move.”
    June Syers rolled her wheelchair over to me. “Now I know for sure you’re crazy, Judson Moon,” she said.
    â€œYou’re probably right, Mrs. Syers.”
    â€œToo bad you’re out of the race, though,” she continued.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œâ€™Cause you’re just the kind of man I would vote for,” she said. Considering that she hadn’t voted since 1944, I was very flattered.
    â€œHey,” Mrs. Syers said before rolling away. “You promised you’d kiss me on Election Night. So pucker up, big boy!” She wrapped her arms around me and for the life of me I can’t figure out how such a tiny little woman could squeeze so hard.
    Chelsea Daniels was sobbing uncontrollably, so Lane and I went over to comfort her.
    â€œHundreds of thousands of silkworms are going to die a horrible death,” she bawled, “and I won’t be able to do a single thing about it!”
    Tears were running down her face, making little dark streams when they dissolved her makeup. Lane pointed to himself to let me know he would take care of Chelsea.
    â€œYou know, Chelsea,” Lane said, “I’ve been thinking about you. Have you ever considered entering the Miss America pageant? You have the looks, the personality, and a cause you believe in. I think you can win, and I can help you do it.”
    â€œReally?” Chelsea said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and pulling herself together. “But I’m only twelve years old. Don’t you have to be eighteen or something?”
    â€œThere are ways around that,” Lane said, flipping me a wink and leading her away. “Here’s what we have to do …”
    â€œSo long, king of the hill!” I called after him.
    Abby came over to me with a big smile on her face. “I don’t know much about politics,” she said as she straightened my tie, “but that was a great speech!”
    â€œYou really think