Rosie Swanson: Fourth-Grade Geek for President Read Free

face at me. “Geek,” she said.
    That’s when I really started to boil inside. It’s just not fair, that’s all. Why does being cute and popular have to be so important? Why isn’t it ever enough just to be a regular, average person?
    There’re lots of us around, you know. In fact, almost everybody in my entire class is just a regular, average person. Some of them even wear glasses like I do.
    Also, there are kids with crooked teeth and braces and dumb haircuts and big noses and earsthat stick out. We even have two boys in our room who can put you to sleep just by talking to you.
    I felt myself relax a little.
Average.
It’s not a bad word, really. It’s nice, in fact. Comfortable, sort of.
    Norman Beeman caught me looking at him and blushed. Norman is one of the dumb haircuts. Also, he has fat, freckled fingers. And sometimes he wears yellow fishing boots to school. I would like to ask him about the boots, but Norman Beeman scares me a little.
    He’d probably vote for me, though. Norman Beeman would probably love to vote for a person who wasn’t perfect or popular. I bet lots of kids would.
    The more I thought about it, the better I felt about my chances. I mean, I was still really nervous about going to the meeting and all. But I was beginning to think that I really might give it a try.
    Just then, Mr. Jolly told us to get out our history books. I looked down at some of the presidents pictured on the cover. For the most part, it was not an attractive group.
    I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would feel like to win a school election. I pictured myself standing on the school stage giving a victory speech. I was holding my bullhorn and there was a giant American flag hanging behind me. I was thanking all the average kids who voted for me. Then I thanked the below-average ones, too. After that, I found Judith Topper in the crowd and I had a security guard drag her to detention.
    Three o’clock came fast that day. When the bell rang, my heart was pounding faster than ever. I grabbed my backpack and ran straight to the girls’ bathroom. When you’re really, really excited about getting to a meeting, the worst thing you can do is be the first one there. It makes you look totally desperate.
    I stood at the sink and washed my hands for a while. If you dry each finger with a separate paper towel, you can use up a lot of time. I would have been there longer, but Mrs. Galonka, the head custodian, saw all the towels I was using and started yelling, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
    When I finally left the girls’ room, I walked asslowly as I could to room 13. Then I took a deep breath and went inside.
    Mrs. Munson and Mr. Jolly were standing in the front of the room. There are four fourth-grade teachers at Dooley Elementary. But since Mr. Jolly and Mrs. Munson have been there the longest, they’re almost always the bosses.
    Mr. Jolly smiled at me. “Rosie Swanson! Good. I was beginning to think that no one from my class was going to show up.”
    Mrs. Munson went to the door and looked up and down the hall. “Are you the last of the stragglers?” she asked.
    I didn’t appreciate being called a straggler, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I went straight to the back of the room and sat down. The other kids were sitting nearer the front. I knew almost all of them.
    Nic and Vic Timmerman were right in front of Mrs. Munson’s desk. In case you haven’t guessed it, Nic and Vic are twins. The weird kind of twins, I mean. The kind who don’t understand that they’re actually two separate people. Like if you call one of them, they both come. In first grade,when Nic broke his arm, Vic wore a sling. Also, they finished each other’s sentences, just like Huey, Dewey, and Louie.
    One seat over from the Timmerman twins was this really cute girl named Summer Lynne Jones. That’s her real name, too. Summer Lynne. It must be nice to have a mother who doesn’t feel it’s necessary to name you after her dead Aunt