The week of the Student Days passed like a dream for Pedro. The class also worked hard over the weekend: they decorated their classroom, Patrick even painted some cool graffiti on a giant piece of paper, of course, which they then pinned to the wall.
Everywhere was smothered with campaign flyers: Pedro’s class wrote short two- and four-liners and handed out the little pieces of paper to everyone who passed by in their corridor.
Pedro had been talking to everyone in rap chunks for days, and once he even answered Garcia in verse when he asked him where the class T-shirts were.
“Gino’s class will definitely win!” Patrick gave Pedro a shove. “Did you see the queue for the rodeo bull?”
His words could barely be heard over the commotion: there was a drama performance in the next class, and in the corridor perpendicular to them, Alfredo and his friends were rocking the speakers with music that went with the bull. The Scientists were not too loud: in their room, an astronaut was telling the curious about his adventures on the moon.
“Yeah, I saw it. I wish I knew what’s so fascinating about that stupid ride…”” ““Flex the lyrics, they feel so good, vote for Pedro, fresh from the hood!” The kids chanted in the corridor, handing out biscuits to passers-by.
Pedro was sitting alone in the classroom. He was terribly tired.
“Well, Pedro, the big day has come. This afternoon, you have to give your speech in front of the whole school in the gym. Ready?” Garcia patted Pedro’s shoulder kindly and took a bite from a biscuit. “This is delicious!”
“Thank you… my mum baked it.” Pedro moaned. “Teacher, I can’t give a speech!”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have it.”
“How come?” Garcia looked stunned.
“I haven’t written it.”
“But you’ve been working on it since last Monday! This was your next assignment, along with the poem about friendship, which you’re not done with yet either!” Garcia rarely got upset, but when he did, it was clear he wasn’t joking.
“You’ll give a speech in the gym today at 4PM and that’s all there is to it!” He announced grumpily, brushing the biscuit crumbs from his beard.” “Pedro ran across to the Wild West room to find Alfredo.
“Come with me, I’m in trouble! Let’s pick up Bernardo and Ernesto from the other classes! I need your help!”
The boys soon gathered in the changing room next to the gym.
“What kind of campaign speech will you have?” Pedro asked the other three.
“Don’t even go there. Three of us sat down this morning and wrote it for Gino. Turned out he hasn’t even started yet” Alfredo said. Ernesto continued:
“In our case, Zita finished it on time. She’s been practicing all week; I think she’s memorized it.”
“What we did,” Bernardo turned to Pedro, “was that we each wrote a sentence, and Aiden would even say something in Japanese. Why do you ask?”
“Because mine is not ready yet, and I have no idea what to say. And Garcia is furious. Quite rightly.”
“It’s noon now,” Alfredo looked at his watch. “There’s still time before 4PM!”
“We’ll fix it, Pedro, relax!” Bernardo consoled him.
“Should I bring my violin?” Ernesto asked.
“No, not that one!” the others shouted in chorus.” “By 4PM, the whole school had already assembled in the gym, but Pedro was still nowhere to be seen. Garcia wasn’t worried yet: Class D would be last in line, as always, so Pedro would surely be working on the text until the last second. That would be how he was trying to buy time.
However, the third campaign speech was already underway on the podium at the gym, but there was still no sign of Pedro.
Garcia was afraid that he had disappeared completely.
“Professor, could you please move over, because I can’t get on stage!” A very familiar voice piped up behind him. As Pedro stepped up to the stage, he looked anxious, but started talking anyway.
He told the audience everything: how he hadn’t believed in himself at first, how he had been lazy when he didn’t write his lyrics, and of course he confessed that he asked his friends for help. And they helped, even though they are supposed to be opponents.
His frank and honest speech was a huge success. A wave of applause swept through the gym.
“Wow!” Garcia hugged Pedro as he came down from the stage. “And you had the courage to tell everyone about all that? I am very proud of you!”” “Everyone cast their vote in their classroom on a piece of paper: these were quickly tallied by the older students in the teachers’ room.
The students waited in the gym for the announcement of the results. Pedro alternated between biting his nails and sitting on his hands.
When the principal finally stood up in front of the microphone to announce the results, Pedro and the class held their breath in expectation. Would Pedro’s bold move work?
“So, this year…” the principal tried to talk over the sudden outburst of shouting, “this year, the candidate who won the student council elections and will serve as Student President of our school for one year… is… Pedro Olivares!”
The announcement was met with a huge cheer. Pedro could hardly believe he was hearing his own name, but there was no other Pedro Olivares at the school.
“That’s it, Pedro! You won it for us!” said Patrick, giving him a high-five.”
“Not for you! With you!” Said Pedro, looking Garcia, who stood proudly next, straight in the eye.