Free The Election-Day Disaster by Ron Roy Page A

and have a picture taken with their masks off,” KC said. “For security. My mom said three marine guards will be here to take their invitations. Then the guests walk out the tent’s back door into the party.”
    “Why? Does the president think therewill be party crashers?” Simon asked.
    “He just wants to make sure that only invited guests come,” KC explained. “He doesn’t want anyone on the grounds who doesn’t belong here.”
    “Our whole class from school is invited!” Marshall said. “And my parents!”
    “Great,” Simon muttered. “Little kids and grown-ups. I’ll have a terrific time!”
    Simon pulled out his cell phone and loped away toward the back entrance of the White House.
    As Simon went in, Arnold, in his crisp green marine uniform, came out. Arnold was the president’s personal guard, and he had become KC and Marshall’s friend. He was carrying two large wash buckets.
    “Where do these go?” he called to KC. “They’re for apple dunking.”
    “Leave them by the tent,” KC said. “I don’t know where my mom wants them.”
    KC and Marshall went into the tent. It was empty except for a chair where the guests would be photographed.
    “Who’s taking the pictures?” Marshall asked KC. “I thought cameras weren’t allowed.”
    “The president hired a photographer,” she said.
    By the tent’s exit was a basket of red, white, and blue campaign buttons. In the center of each button was the face of President Zachary Thornton. Around his face were the words ZACK IS BACK.
    November 4—four days away—was Election Day. KC’s stepfather was running for reelection as President of the United States.
    “KC, if the president loses the election, where will you guys live?” Marshall asked. “You’d have to move out of the White House, right?”
    “He’s not going to lose!” KC said. “Don’t you ever read the newspapers, Marsh?”
    KC planned to be a news anchor-woman after college. She read three newspapers every day and watched the news on TV. She was training herself to notice what was going on everywhere, not just in Washington, D.C.
    “I only read Spider-Man comics, remember?” Marshall said, putting on a goofy face.
    “Well, all the polls say my stepfather is ahead of Melrose Jury, the man he’s running against,” KC said.
    “What do you mean, poles?” Marshall asked. “Like fishing poles?”
    “No, P-O-L-L-S. Polls are like samples of what people think,” KC said. “Whenever there’s an election, people get asked who they will vote for. Right now, the president is ahead of Dr. Jury in the polls.”
    “The president’s running against a doctor?” Marshall asked.
    “Not a medical doctor,” KC said. “Dr. Jury was a college professor before he got into politics.”
    “And now he wants to be president,” Marshall summed up.
    KC grinned and pointed to the campaign buttons. “Yeah, but he’s not gonna make it, because Zack is back!”

2
No Pictures, Please
    An hour later, KC and Marshall were standing next to the two wash buckets filled with water. Apples floated on the surface.
    KC had used one of her mom’s old pink sweaters to make her Wilbur-the-pig costume. She had stuffed the sweater with a pillow to make her tummy look fat. She wore a pig snout over her nose. Her red hair was tucked under a pink baseball cap with pointy pig ears.
    “You look like Miss Piggy,” Marshall said.
    “Well, I’m not Miss Piggy,” KC said. “I’m Mr. Wilbur.”
    She looked around, checking out all the costumes. Their classmates had masks on, so she couldn’t tell who was who.
    Some of the adults were standing near the water buckets. Others were lining up kids to play Pin the Wart on the Witch.
    “Who’s the butterfly?” Marshall asked.
    “That’s my mom,” KC said. “And the president is the lion holding his tail. People keep stepping on it.”
    “My parents are the two geese,” said Marshall. “My mom ripped up a bunch of old pillows to get the