Mia the Meek by Eileen Boggess Page A

escorted Cassie out of the auditorium, leaving me alone in the middle of anarchy. A bunch of students yelled, “We want more! We want more! We want more!” And I began praying for a miracle.
    The teachers hastily moved among the rows, threatening students with detention if they didn’t quiet down, and soon the auditorium was quiet. More than two hundred sets of eyes turned toward me and an expectant hush fell over the room. I unglued my tongue from the top of my mouth, stepped up to the microphone, and cleared my throat.
    “If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave all my clothes on.”
    A series of boos erupted from the back of the auditorium, but were quickly silenced by a teacher. I opened my mouth and words began to fall out.
    “Um, I’m running for class president because my best friend thought I could make a difference in our school. And before today, I didn’t believe her. But as I stood on this stage watching all of you, I suddenly realized that I do have what it takes to be a good president because I am one of you. I mean, not many of us are really popular or able to look good while doing a cheerleading routine. But that doesn’t mean we’re unimportant.” I took a deep breath, not knowing what was going to come out of my mouth next.
    “Everyone in our class adds something to it. Just imagine that we’re all a part of a giant quilt. What if our quilt only consisted of fancy patches? We wouldn’t have a blanket. We’d have a pile of fluff. In order to make a quilt, we need durable patches that can last over time. We need unusual patches that can give the quilt life. We need soft patches that can make the quilt more comfortable. We even need a few beautiful patches to accent it and make it more elegant. When you put all of us together, we can create a masterpiece. So, if you vote for me, I promise to make St. Hilary’s into a school that represents all of us and uses everyone’s talents. Because if all our voices are heard, we can make our class the best freshman class in the history of St. Hilary’s!”
    I glanced at Maggie, sitting in the second row.
    “So, if you want your voice heard, you must vote for me, Mia the Meek, Queen of the Freaks!”
    Dead silence filled the air as I stepped away from the podium. Oh my God, where did all that come from? Queen of the Freaks? Did I actually say that out loud? And a quilt? I don’t even know how to sew on a button! I eyed the exit sign and began planning my escape to a remote, uninhabited island, when suddenly I heard a few faint claps from the back of the auditorium. These claps quickly grew into thunderous applause and I looked up from my clenched hands to see the entire freshman class on its feet, giving me a standing ovation!
    I hastily rushed off the stage and Lisa enveloped me into a bear hug, shouting over the din of students, “What happened to my speech?”
    I smiled sheepishly. “It got washed down the drain.”
    “Good! Your speech was much better!” Lisa laughed as we joined the herd of students making an exodus for the auditorium doors. I felt my mom’s hand on my arm as she pulled me aside.
    “See? You jumped and you didn’t even need a net.”
    I smiled at her. It didn’t matter if I won or lost. The world felt amazing outside of my corner.

I loaded the last of the dinner dishes into the dishwasher and then, still buzzing from my day, headed outside to shoot a few hoops. I was just warming up when I heard someone call, “You are in desperate need of an expert to teach you how to handle that ball.” I went for a lay-up over Tim’s head. “If an expert comes by,” I said, “let me know.”
    Tim rebounded the ball and dribbled to the perimeter for an outside shot.
    “I’ve been waiting for that batch of cookies you owe me.”
    “You didn’t win the bet. It was a tie.”
    “Then I guess it’s all right for me to beat you in a game.”
    His shot clanked off the rim. I grabbed the rebound and swished a shot. “In your