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smirk. “I’m just extremely young for my age.”
    â€œThat’s our news for tonight. Good night and may all your news be good news.”
    Before Mom or Dad could say a word, the phone rang. It was my aunt Lucy.
    â€œAm I hallucinating!?” she shrieked. “Or did I just see you on TV?”
    The instant I hung up the phone with Aunt Lucy, it rang again. It was one of my teachers. When I hung up with her, the phone rang again. Kids from school were calling. Mom’s friends were calling. Total strangers were calling. Finally, Dad took the phone off the hook.
    â€œIs this one of your pranks?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if he was angry or amused.
    â€œIt’s sort of a prank,” I replied. “I don’t expect to win or anything. You’re always telling me I should get involved with extracurricular activities. Well …”
    â€œI meant you should join the chess club or the school paper or something!” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t mean you should run for president!”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell us, dear?” asked Mom.
    â€œI did tell you, Mom. You just weren’t listening.”
    â€œWell, I think it’s cute, honey,” she said, “as long as it doesn’t interfere with your school-work. Remember, homework first, running for president second.”
    Dad just rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.

In the morning, I got up early and rushed outside to get the paper. There I was on the front page, with this big smile on my face, pouring some lady a cup of lemonade. There was an article to go with the photo:
    MOON MISSION: 12-YEAR-OLD ON QUEST FOR WHITE HOUSE
    By Pete Guerra
    While other boys his age are flipping baseball cards and dyeing their hair purple, Judson Moon has other things on his mind — like running for president of the United States.
    The 12-year-old from Madison says he is disillusioned with the Republicans and Democrats and has decided to mount a campaign as a third-party candidate in November’s election.
    â€œGrown-ups have had the last one thousand years to mess up the world,” claims Moon. “Now it’s our turn.”
    The young man, outfitted in a suit and tie, was raising money on Saturday by selling lemonade in front of his house for 25 cents a cup. He will have to sell 80 million cups to raise $20 million, the figure he says he needs to mount a national campaign.
    Moon’s running mate and fellow lemonade saleswoman is Mrs. June Syers, a retired nurse who used to babysit for the candidate.
    â€œWe’re a perfect team,” Moon says. “I’m young and she’s old. I’m white and she’s black. I’m dumb and she’s smart.”
    Watch out, Democrats and Republicans! Stand back, Tea Partiers! Here comes The Lemonade Party!
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    Word gets around fast. When I walked into school on Monday morning, it was like I was from another planet. Everywhere I went, everybody was looking at me, pointing, and whispering. I’d walk toward a crowd of kids and they’d part to let me through.
    Pretty weird!
    Abby wished me good luck. Several of the teachers gave me the thumbs-up sign. Even Chelsea came over to me.
    â€œYou weren’t kidding about running for president, were you?” she said, a lot friendlier than she was when we met.
    â€œNo, I wasn’t,” I replied. “You weren’t kidding about being First Lady, were you?”
    â€œActually I was ,” she said. “But now that I know you’re really doing this, you can count on me.”
    Arthur Krantz made a face when he saw me, and I made the same face right back at him. As every politician knows, you can’t please all the people all the time.
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    At first I didn’t like all the attention, but by lunchtime I had changed my mind and decided that it was kinda cool. I could definitely get used to being a celebrity.
    I was signing an