Campaign Chaos!, page 1
CAMPAIGN CHAOS!
BY MOLLIE FREILICH
© 2020 Viacom International Inc. All Rights Reserved. Nickelodeon, Nick Jr., The Loud House and all related titles, logos and characters are trademarks of Viacom International Inc.
Based on the TV seriesThe Loud House™
eISBN 978-1-950837-87-8
I was sitting on my bed, moments away from diving into my latest Muscle Fish comic book, when I heard the static buzz of my walkie-talkie.
“Lincoln! Lincoln! Come in, Lincoln! Do you read me?” It was my best friend, Clyde McBride, shouting frantically. He clearly had something he needed to share with me. Maybe he’d seen a ghost and needed the help of a fellow ARGGH! cadet to catch it. Or maybe an alien had just landed in his yard, and he wanted me there to make first contact. Or maybe his dads had made their famous guacamole, and they needed a taste tester. Or maybe …
“LINCOLN! Ahhhhh!” I tumbled off the bed and fell in a heap on the floor. I scrambled to grab my walkie-talkie.
“Sorry, Clyde! I’m here! I read you loud and clear, buddy. Over,” I replied.
“Lincoln! Phew! I was worried I’d have to call your house and Lori would answer the phone and I’d faint and forget what I had to say and—”
“CLYDE! Get ahold of yourself!” Clyde has a little crush on my oldest sister, Lori, and tends to spin out of control when he starts talking about her or to her.
“Thanks, pal. I needed that. Listen, this is big news. Really big news. I think I’d better tell you in person. Can I come over? Over.” The suspense was almost unbearable, but I figured I could wait a few more minutes. Clyde hadn’t been this excited to tell me something since the school cafeteria added rosemary to their meatloaf.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside. Over and out.”
My brain was racing a mile a minute trying to figure out what Clyde was going to say. I nearly tripped over my baby sister, Lily, as I sprang from my room to dash downstairs.
“Sorry, Lil!” I called over my shoulder as my infant sister stuck out her tongue to blow a raspberry at me.
I sprinted down the seemingly empty hallway, aiming for the stairs. I was nearly at the bannister when the high-pitched screeeeeeech of a whistle made me skid to a stop. My six-year-old twin sisters, Lola and Lana, decked out in matching aviator sunglasses and neon orange sashes, stood before me. I guessed they were practicing their hall-monitor duties at home again.
“What did we tell you about running in the halls?” Lana asked me, tilting her sunglasses down to give me a stern look.
“C’mon, guys! I have to get downstairs. Clyde will be here in a few minutes.”
“Answer the question or we’ll toss you in the clink!” Lola shouted, pointing at a cardboard box with bars cut out to resemble a jail cell. I knew they were serious. They once locked our sister Luan up just for telling bad jokes! Come to think of it, I’m surprised she isn’t in there more often.
“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll slow my pace down to a brisk walk.” I sighed, eyeing the staircase.
Lola scratched some words on a notepad, then ripped off a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Consider this your last warning, Linky. Now move it! We have a hallway to patrol.”
They both folded their arms and glared at me. I walked as quickly as I could to the top of the stairway. Once I was out of the twins’ line of sight, I darted down the stairs, clinging to the railing for balance. I jumped over Lynn’s skates; dodged Luan’s ventriloquist dummy, Mr. Coconuts; and narrowly avoided Luna’s amp. With a family this big, you usually have to navigate through some clutter.
Finally, I reached the front door, just in time to hear the sweet squeak of Clyde’s yellow tandem bicycle rolling up in front of my house. I flung the door open and whirled outside to greet him.
“Clyde!” I called as I jogged down our front steps. Clyde was breathing heavily, like he’d just peddled the bike while hauling a grand piano behind him. “Are you okay?”
“Just.” Gasp. “Need.” Gasp. “A.” Gasp. “Second,” he puffed out as he removed his helmet and sat down on the lawn. It felt like a million years passed, but finally, he was able to speak again. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to run for school treasurer.”
“That’s amazing, Clyde!” I said as I gave him a high five. This was huge news! Clyde was scared of speaking in front of big crowds, becoming popular, and watching someone else’s piggy bank, so if he ran for treasurer, he’d have to overcome three of his fears. “Let’s go inside and celebrate with some ice-cold lemonade.”
We sat at my dining room table, sipping our delicious drinks left over from my sister Lola’s lemonade stand.
“So, why do you want to be treasurer, anyway?” I asked, avoiding bringing up his many running-for-treasurer-related fears.
“My therapist, Dr. Lopez, keeps telling me it would be good for me to try something new and push my boundaries. So when they announced at school yesterday that sign-ups were due for student council elections, I panicked, closed my eyes, and wrote my name down on the sheet. Then I opened my eyes and saw I’d signed up to be treasurer. There’s only one teensy little problem.” Now that he had fully caught his breath, Clyde was talking a mile a minute.
“What’s that?”
“Lincoln, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not exactly sure what a treasurer does.” He sighed and put his head down on the table, looking defeated.
“Don’t worry, Clyde. A treasurer …” I scratched my head. “A treasurer is … A treasurer does …” Dang it. I had no idea. I couldn’t help my best friend.
“A treasurer is responsible for the school’s fiscal accountability and financial stability.”
Clyde and I turned our heads toward the voice. It was my sister Lisa. She might be only four years old, but she was easily the smartest person I knew. If anyone could help us figure out what Clyde was running for, it would be her.
“The school’s what and what?” I asked.
Lisa sighed. “A treasurer takes care of the student council’s money. They track the budget, plan activities for the students, and help raise funds for things around the school.”
“Like school dances? Or new volleyball nets for the gym? They do need new nets after that incident with the fencing club,” Clyde said to Lisa.
“Precisely,” she responded, adjusting her glasses.
“Oooh,” Clyde and I said together.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run a brain wave test on Lana while she makes mud pies. I believe the mere act of handling soil excites her brain synapses and creates serotonin.” Clyde and I stared at her blankly. Sometimes it was hard to understand what Lisa said. She sighed and explained, “It makes her happy to play with dirt.” Ah.
Lisa left the dining room to go upstairs. Clyde’s eyes went wide. His palms were sweating. He had the look of a kid who just realized he was onstage at the spelling bee in his underwear.
“Clyde, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“This is a bad idea. What if the other kids make fun of me for running for treasurer? What if I don’t get a single vote? What if I go up to give my speech and my shirt is on inside out? What if I have to run against one of our friends? What if my only competition is a really cute pug puppy? What if I can’t actually count? I did get a B-plus on that last math test, after all. What if aliens come down and take over my body, and then they become the school treasurer and then—”
“CLYDE!” I shouted. He paused and looked at me. “You’re spiraling.”
“I just don’t think I can do this,” he said sadly. He dropped his head into his hands. I couldn’t stand to see my best buddy in the whole wide world feel this bad.
“Remember when we went to Dairyland Amoosement Park and we were finally tall enough for the Butter Beater roller coaster?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Remember how scared we both were? And how we waited in line for four whole hours?”
“Yeah, but—”
“When we finally got to the front of the line, you were the one who said, ‘Lincoln, it’s now or never.’ I don’t think I would’ve gone on that roller coaster without you. You knew that if we didn’t ride it right then, we’d never ever get on it. You knew that it was perfectly safe and built to be fun. And then what happened?”
“We had the best time.”
“We had the best time. We rode it again and again! We didn’t get to go on any other rides because we only rode the Butter Beater! It was great!”
Clyde smiled. “You’re right, Lincoln,” he said. “But what does that have to do with running for treasurer?”
“You have the perfect attitude for student council, Clyde. You care about other people, you care about Royal Woods Elementary School more than anyone I know, and you’re the kind of person who understands when it’s time to get on the roller coaster.”
“Thanks, pal. I appreciate your support. Now, I have a very important question to ask you,” he said seriously. “But I will totally understand if you say no.”
“You’re my best friend. You can ask me anything.”
“Lincoln, you’re the man with the plan,” he said as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a clipboard with a big red bow attached. “Will you be my campaign manager?”
I’ve coached Lola and Lana for pageants. I’ve been Luan’s right-hand clown. I helped Leni learn how to drive. I was sure I could be a campaign manager. How hard could it be, anyway?
“Clyde, it would be my honor,” I said, go
Clyde laughed. “Arise, Sir Lincoln, Knight of the Campaign Table!” he said in a thick British accent like the king in King of the Rings as he tapped each of my shoulders in turn with a pencil. I got up and took the clipboard from him.
“Operation Help Clyde Run for School Treasurer is a go!” We bumped fists and did our best-friend handshake. “Let’s get started!”
Clyde and I approached the campaign as we would have any other school project: with craft supplies and a plan. As campaign manager, I decided our first order of business was to make posters. When you ran for student council, Principal Huggins let you hang up as many posters as you wanted, as long as they weren’t mean-spirited toward the other candidates and didn’t cover up anyone else’s poster (or anything important, like a fire alarm). With that in mind, Clyde’s dads, Harold and Howard, took us on an awesome poster supply shopping spree so we’d be able to make a bunch of posters.
We went to Arts ’N’ Things, the craft supply store at the Royal Woods Mall, and filled up two whole shopping carts with poster board, crayons, bright paint, paintbrushes, and glitter. The glitter was Clyde’s idea. He said it would make his posters stand out. The Arts ’N’ Things employee at the register was really nice and wished Clyde good luck with his campaign.
Clyde’s dads helped us carry our stuff into their house.
“If you need any help at all, let us know,” Howard said as he finished laying down newspaper in the living room so we could paint.
“You know, Howie ran for student council in college,” Harold mused as he put down the last bag.
“My dad was elected vice president!” Clyde told me proudly.
“Wow, Mr. McBride! Did you have the most posters? Did you have the best speech? Were you the most popular?” I had so many questions for Clyde’s dad. I was determined to be the best campaign manager possible. I couldn’t let my best friend down—he had to win! Both of Clyde’s dads laughed.
“Come to think of it, I didn’t have the most posters, and I wasn’t very popular,” Howard said. “But I will tell you this: I was always the most me I could be. I never tried to be anyone other than myself. I think people liked that I was just Howard.”
“And you were very honest. Honesty goes a long way,” Harold added, “especially for a politician.” They both laughed. Clyde and I shrugged. Adult jokes, I guess.
“Thanks for the tips,” I said. I already had so many ideas for posters jumping around in my head, and I could tell Clyde did, too. We were eager to get started. “I think we’ve got this. Clyde’s going to be the best treasurer Royal Woods Elementary has ever seen.”
“Good luck, fellas! We’ll get out of your hair,” Howard said as he and Harold left the room. It was time to start brainstorming poster slogans.
Clyde and I had been best friends since we were really little. We had a lot of things in common, we worked well together, and we never fought. Together, we were Clincoln McLoud. We could do anything! As Clyde’s campaign manager, it was my duty to get things started.
“Lisa said school treasurers are responsible for money. Maybe we should make posters that highlight your math skills,” I suggested as I pulled a piece of poster board in front of me.
“That’s a great idea, Lincoln! Maybe we can come up with some memorable slogans. People love a memorable slogan.”
“Yes! Good call, Clyde!” But what? What would make people remember Clyde while also making them think he was the best candidate?
Clyde furrowed his brow. I could tell he was thinking really hard. Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers.
“I’ve got one! ‘Vote for Clyde! It just makes cents!’ But instead of spelling sense as S-E-N-S-E, we spell it like money: C-E-N-T-S!”
“You’re a genius, buddy!” I wrote down his idea on a piece of paper. “Oh, I’ve got one!”
“I’m all ears.”
“How about ‘Clyde can count, so count on Clyde’?”
“Yes! That’s great! Add it to the list!”
I scribbled down my idea. Suddenly, another idea burst into my brain.
“What if we cut up a picture of you and put plus signs in between? Like legs plus arms plus head plus body? And then the caption could be ‘It all adds up to a perfect candidate. Vote Clyde for Treasurer!’”
“Yes!” Clyde exclaimed. “Though we should probably find a good picture to use for that, like one where my eyes are open. I don’t want to revisit the fourth-grade yearbook situation,” he said. We both shuddered. In Clyde’s fourth-grade yearbook picture, one of his eyes was closed, and the flash left a weird mark on his face, so he looked kind of like a mean, sleepy pirate. It was not his best look.
“These are great,” I said.
“I’ve got another one!” Clyde exclaimed excitedly. “What about something like ‘Bank on me, and I’ll treasure your vote’?”
I added his idea to our list, but my eyebrows rose. “I think you’ve been catching too many of Luan’s comedy shows,” I said. My sister Luan is the master of puns, and Clyde’s suggestion seemed a lot like something she’d say.
“Have you heard her latest joke about the rhinoceros and the dentist? It’s just too funny!”
“What about the rhinoceros—” I stopped myself. “We have to focus, Clyde!”
We continued brainstorming for another hour. The whole paper was covered in slogan ideas. Then, slowly but surely, we started making Clyde’s posters. First, we penciled the outlines of the letters. When we were sure everything was spelled right, we filled in the letters with paint.
We worked for hours. I could barely feel my fingers after painting for so long. Clyde’s cats, Cleopawtra and Nepurrtiti, were curled up on the couch, sleeping. Even they were tired of us making posters.
It felt like forever! Finally, just after dinner but with time to spare before bed, we were done. We had made thirty posters completely by hand. Exhausted but proud, Clyde and I high-fived. Then Lori picked me up in Vanzilla, our family van, and took me home.
The next morning, Clyde and I got to school early to hang up his posters.
“It’s important that every single kid is able to see your posters,” I said as I rolled out a map I had drawn of our school. I had marked a bunch of places on campus with big red X’s. “If we put them in the places where I’ve drawn an X, we should be covered.”
Clyde looked over my work.
“Wow, Lincoln. You have completely covered all the major landmarks: the lockers right next to the nurse’s office, that bulletin board outside the gym, the doors to the music room, and even the blank wall in the hallway outside the cafeteria, where the floor is permanently sticky. There’s no way anyone will miss these,” he said with a grin.
“Right? Okay, I think it’s best if we split up and each go to half of the school. How about you take the south side, where the good water fountains and the chemistry lab are,” I said as I pointed to places on the map, “and I’ll take the north side over by the trophy case and the best door to catch the bus. Once we’ve put all these up, we can meet outside Principal Huggins’s office and check the list of candidates to see who you’re running against.”
“Sounds like a plan!”
“We’ve got this!”
“Thanks again, Lincoln.”
“No sweat, buddy. Maybe when you’re treasurer, you can get the librarian to buy that book about writing comics.”
“The one by Bill Buck, creator of Ace Savvy and One-Eyed Jack, the greatest heroes of all time?”
“Yeah, that one! Every time I try to check it out at the Royal Woods Main Library, someone else already has it. I asked the school librarian if she had a copy, and she said it’s on their list of books to buy, but they don’t have the funds right now. Maybe she could use the help of Super School Treasurer Clyde McBride!”
As soon as I said that, it was as if a light bulb had sprung from Clyde’s head.
“I’ve got it!”
“You’ve got what?” I asked, totally clueless.
“What if I go around and ask students and teachers what they think the school needs? Then I’ll have a better understanding of how I can help them if I become treasurer.”
“Clyde, that’s genius! But first”—I pointed at our stack of posters—“let’s get these all up.”
