Vote for Cupcakes! by Sheryl Berk

“What do you suppose ancient Rome would have looked like?” Mr. Gatlin asked the students in his fifth-grade history class at Weber Day School. “Put yourself right smack in the middle of 44 BC.”
    Delaney Noonan closed her eyes and tried to picture it. She saw lots of old buildings, fountains, courtyards, columns, and men walking around in white togas. Then her mind wandered off somewhere far, far away to a vision of a very modern Italy. She suddenly saw pizza, pasta, and Italian gelato—and those ooey, gooey mozzarella sticks she loved dipped in marinara sauce!
    â€œDelaney?” The sound of Mr. G’s voice made her eyes fly open. She was pretty sure he had heard her stomach growl.
    â€œSorry!” she replied, shaking off the daydream. “I spaced out there for a sec. I was thinking Roma Pizzeria—not ancient Rome. I could almost taste it!” She wiped a little drool out of the corner of her mouth.
    â€œYou haven’t painted a single backdrop for the play,” her teacher said, pointing to the blank roll of paper in front of her. “How is our class supposed to put on Julius Caesar with no Roman scenery?”
    Delaney stared down at her paints and brush. “Well, how am I supposed to paint ancient Rome’s aqueducts with no white paint?” she protested. “The only colors left are red and yellow—or orange if I mix them together.”
    â€œYou could paint gladiator blood,” Ryan, a boy in her class, suggested.
    â€œEww!” shrieked Sophie Spivac, Delaney’s BFF at Weber. “That’s disgusting.”
    â€œNo, Ryan has a point,” their teacher said. “Ancient Roman times were tough and filled with battles and bloodshed.”
    Delaney shrugged. “That still doesn’t solve the problem of no more white paint,” she insisted. She dramatically draped a hand over her brow. “I can’t be expected to work under these conditions. It’s so, so…amateur!”
    â€œI’m sorry you feel that way,” Mr. G said. “I thought you’d dive into the role of Caesar and be excited to help out with the sets.”
    â€œI am,” she said halfheartedly. “I’m happy I got the lead in the play—but I’m afraid it’s going to be awful.” Mr. G frowned—he’d been working on the play with the class for weeks. But even he had to admit it was off to an awful start: there were no art supplies to create authentic sets, and the costumes were ridiculous.
    â€œHow am I supposed to play a Roman emperor in this?” she asked her teacher. She held up a green polka-dot bedsheet that someone had donated. “You call this a toga?”
    She pointed across the room at her friend Sophie, who was busy stitching her costume together. “And have you seen what Brutus’s toga looks like? A sheet with pink kitties on it?”
    Sophie nodded. “Brutus stabbed Caesar. He’s not really the pink-kitty type.”
    Mr. G sighed. “I hear you, but there is nothing I can do about it. We have to make do. There’s no more money in the school budget.”
    â€œSays who?” Delaney challenged him.
    â€œSays the student council who decides where to allocate school funds,” Mr. G explained. “This year, money went to the after-school soccer program…and the new computer lab…and the new flag hanging from the pole in the yard.”
    â€œBut it’s just not fair!” Delaney insisted. “Something has to be done!”
    Mr. G handed her a flier. “Then do it,” he said. “There’s an election coming up for next semester’s new student government officers. Why don’t you run for fifth-grade president? Then you can fix all the things you don’t think are fair in the school.”
    â€œMe?” Delaney stammered. “President?”
    â€œI think you’d make an awesome class president!” Sophie