size, maybe whip out a detention form, but before she could open her mouth, Katie said, “It would be a real shame, given your hopes for promotion—I heard you have a shot at being named head principal at the new middle school next year—if a complaint were lodged against you for, you know, bullying.”
Blackmail! Beautiful. Now we’re not just some middle school game, but a real political beast. I beamed at Katie.
Lynch said, “As long as I don’t see that
little boy
in this school again, we have no problem. Am I right?”
“You’re right,” Katie and I said together. Lynch turned on her heel and left.
Katie and I looked at each other and shared another of those silent moments in which we bothacknowledged the awe of our stellar minds and devious natures. Markie had to bring us down to Earth. Sometimes he’s too smart.
“I thought you don’t lie, Dutchdeefuddy. That’s what you said.” His forehead was scrunchy; he was thinking hard about what he’d heard.
“I didn’t lie.”
“You didn’t tell the truth.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Uh-huh.” He was doubtful. “And I thought you said it was wrong to tattle on people, but your friend said she’d tattle on the scary lady.”
“That wasn’t so much about tattling as about sticking up for us.”
“Uh-huh.” Still not buying it.
“Look, Markie, politics are—”
“—not always nice,” Katie said, and squatted down to be at eye level with Markie. “But only sometimes. We’ll try to do better tomorrow, okay?” She lifted her palm and he hauled off and high-fived her.
Then she stood up and looked at me. “Right, Kev?”
“Absolutely.”
“And then maybe you can both win the ’lection.” Markie smiled up at both of us. “Sharing is good.”
Oh, Markie, you’re such a nice person. And so not cut out for politics.
“C’mon, let’s get to art class.” I shoved Markie back underneath my trench coat and mouthed “thank you” to Katie. She gave me a “whadda ya gonna do” shrug.
We’re growing on each other.
10
The True Politician Enjoys the Growth Opportunities That Allow Him to Reassess His Position Based on the Needs of the Public
I rolled out of bed Thursday morning, ready to pounce into the day like a tiger.
Rrrrrrr
.
Markie was still sleeping. I headed to the kitchen, hoping we had some of that cereal that’s advertised as the Breakfast of Champions. I should probably ask Mom to stock up on that from now on.
My folks wore serious looks. They were avoiding my eyes and jiggling their keys. Dad was not only clutching his briefcase but edging toward the door. I’ve seen surveillance tapes of bank robbers in less of a hurry.
“Kevin,” Mom said, “I’ve got the consequencesof the water-main break at the bookstore to deal with and your dad has an important meeting. Neither of us can stay home with Markie today.”
I studied her. Mom likes Markie, but only in very small doses. I wondered if the water emergency was as much of an “accident” as she’d have us believe.
I turned to look at Dad. His meetings are always important. In fact, when I was little, I thought there was a hyphenated word
important-meeting
.
“No way am I taking Markie with me to school again,” I told them, and we all shuddered together at the thought. They hadn’t been pleased with my “irresponsible, sneaky and, frankly, reckless” decision (their words, not mine) the day before, but Mom had apologized for forgetting about him and sticking me with the responsibility and Dad had looked relieved to have escaped Markie duty. “And I can’t stay home and take care of him either. Not the day before the election.”
What’ll we do with him? We looked at each other.
The back door flew open to reveal Auntie Buzz holding an empty coffee cup.
“I ran out of coffee and I’ll do anything—
and I mean anything
—for a cup.”
“There you go! I’m out of here.” Dad slid past Buzz and sprinted toward his car. I
Blackmail! Beautiful. Now we’re not just some middle school game, but a real political beast. I beamed at Katie.
Lynch said, “As long as I don’t see that
little boy
in this school again, we have no problem. Am I right?”
“You’re right,” Katie and I said together. Lynch turned on her heel and left.
Katie and I looked at each other and shared another of those silent moments in which we bothacknowledged the awe of our stellar minds and devious natures. Markie had to bring us down to Earth. Sometimes he’s too smart.
“I thought you don’t lie, Dutchdeefuddy. That’s what you said.” His forehead was scrunchy; he was thinking hard about what he’d heard.
“I didn’t lie.”
“You didn’t tell the truth.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Uh-huh.” He was doubtful. “And I thought you said it was wrong to tattle on people, but your friend said she’d tattle on the scary lady.”
“That wasn’t so much about tattling as about sticking up for us.”
“Uh-huh.” Still not buying it.
“Look, Markie, politics are—”
“—not always nice,” Katie said, and squatted down to be at eye level with Markie. “But only sometimes. We’ll try to do better tomorrow, okay?” She lifted her palm and he hauled off and high-fived her.
Then she stood up and looked at me. “Right, Kev?”
“Absolutely.”
“And then maybe you can both win the ’lection.” Markie smiled up at both of us. “Sharing is good.”
Oh, Markie, you’re such a nice person. And so not cut out for politics.
“C’mon, let’s get to art class.” I shoved Markie back underneath my trench coat and mouthed “thank you” to Katie. She gave me a “whadda ya gonna do” shrug.
We’re growing on each other.
10
The True Politician Enjoys the Growth Opportunities That Allow Him to Reassess His Position Based on the Needs of the Public
I rolled out of bed Thursday morning, ready to pounce into the day like a tiger.
Rrrrrrr
.
Markie was still sleeping. I headed to the kitchen, hoping we had some of that cereal that’s advertised as the Breakfast of Champions. I should probably ask Mom to stock up on that from now on.
My folks wore serious looks. They were avoiding my eyes and jiggling their keys. Dad was not only clutching his briefcase but edging toward the door. I’ve seen surveillance tapes of bank robbers in less of a hurry.
“Kevin,” Mom said, “I’ve got the consequencesof the water-main break at the bookstore to deal with and your dad has an important meeting. Neither of us can stay home with Markie today.”
I studied her. Mom likes Markie, but only in very small doses. I wondered if the water emergency was as much of an “accident” as she’d have us believe.
I turned to look at Dad. His meetings are always important. In fact, when I was little, I thought there was a hyphenated word
important-meeting
.
“No way am I taking Markie with me to school again,” I told them, and we all shuddered together at the thought. They hadn’t been pleased with my “irresponsible, sneaky and, frankly, reckless” decision (their words, not mine) the day before, but Mom had apologized for forgetting about him and sticking me with the responsibility and Dad had looked relieved to have escaped Markie duty. “And I can’t stay home and take care of him either. Not the day before the election.”
What’ll we do with him? We looked at each other.
The back door flew open to reveal Auntie Buzz holding an empty coffee cup.
“I ran out of coffee and I’ll do anything—
and I mean anything
—for a cup.”
“There you go! I’m out of here.” Dad slid past Buzz and sprinted toward his car. I
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