Who Cloned the President?

KC Corcoran pulled a slip of paper out of her teacher’s baseball cap. She read the words on the paper and grinned.

“Who did you get, KC?” Mr. Alubicki asked.

“President Thornton,” KC said.

“No fair!” Marshall Li protested. “You already know everything about him.”

Mr. Alubicki smiled and passed the hat to Marshall, KC’s best friend. Marshall picked a slip. “Herbert Hoover?” he said. “I don’t even know who he is!”

“But you’ll know all about him after you write your report,” his teacher said.

Mr. Alubicki finished passing the hat around the room. “Okay, everyone, have a great weekend. Get started on your president reports. We’ll discuss them Monday.”

KC grabbed her backpack and followed Marshall out the door. They walked home together every day.

KC and Marshall lived in the same ten-story building in Washington, D.C. It stood between a pet shop and a Chinese restaurant.

They stopped on the way home to watch puppies and kittens through the pet-shop window.

“Why is everyone so crazy about furry animals?” Marshall asked. “Spiders make great pets, too!”

KC laughed. “Marsh, you can’t cuddle up with a spider.”

“Who says you can’t?” Marshall asked. “I wish Mr. A. would let us write about insects instead of presidents.”

Marshall loved anything with more than four legs. He kept jars of crawly things in his bedroom. Spike, his pet tarantula, slept in one of Marsh’s old baseball caps.

“Presidents’ Day is in February,” KC reminded her friend. “If we had an insects’ day, Mr. A. would let you write about Spike.”

“Spike’s not an insect,” Marshall said. “Tarantulas are spiders, and spiders are arachnids.”

“I know, I know,” KC said as she pushed open the glass door of their building. “You’ve told me a hundred times!”

“And you still don’t remember,” grumbled
Marshall. He pushed the elevator button.

Donald, the building manager, opened the elevator door. Donald ran the elevator and helped people get taxis out front.

“Hi, kids,” Donald said. “Got plans for the weekend?”

“We have to write reports,” Marshall told him. “About dead presidents.”

“Mine’s not dead,” KC told Donald. “I picked President Thornton!”

Donald smiled as he pressed the button for Marshall’s floor. “Lucky you! Maybe you’ll see him around town.”

Marshall got off on the third floor, and Donald took KC to the fifth. She let herself into the apartment with her key.

Lost and Found, her two kittens, came skidding across the wood floor when the
door opened. KC rubbed their bellies, then headed for the kitchen.

A note was taped to the fridge.

KC—I’ll be home around six. Have a snack. Love, Mom
.

KC grabbed a banana and walked into the living room. Lost and Found scurried after her. She pulled
Your Presidents
from a bookshelf and looked up President Thornton.

“Listen,” she said to the kittens. “Zachary Thornton had five brothers and sisters. He raised chickens and sold eggs to help his family.” Then the caption of a picture caught her eye. “As a Boy Scout, Zachary Thornton earned twelve merit badges,” she read.

“See, Marshall was wrong,” KC mumbled. “I don’t know everything about
President Thornton. I had no idea he got twelve badges in Scouts.”

KC marked the page, then switched on her mom’s computer. She logged on to the Internet and found more about President Thornton. “Zachary Thornton is our fourth left-handed president,” KC read.

“Cool. We’re both left-handed!” KC said. She kept reading and noticed a headline from
The Washington Post
newspaper. “President Thornton Says No to Human Cloning.”

KC read the rest of the paragraph about scientists cloning animals. Marshall had told her that some scientists wanted to clone humans.

“I’m glad the president said no,” she said. “I only want one of me!”

KC shut off the computer and turned
on the TV. She flopped on the sofa and pulled the kittens onto her lap.

Cindy Sparks, the White House reporter, was just signing off.

“Someday that’ll be me,” KC told her kittens. She planned to become a TV anchorwoman after college.

KC peeled the banana and channel surfed. She found a live special on President Thornton at a press conference in the White House.

“Tomorrow morning,” said President Thornton, “I will make an announcement that will change human life forever.”

Then someone handed the president a stack of papers. He signed them slowly, as if he were tired. He didn’t smile or talk to anyone around him. He just took a paper, signed it, and reached for another.

Hmmm
, thought KC.
It’s not like him to be so quiet and serious. He looks sick
.

KC noticed something else. “That’s weird,” she said. She called Marshall and told him to turn on channel 3.

“It’s the president,” Marshall said a few seconds later. “So?”

“Do you see anything weird?”

“Like what?”

“Marsh, he’s signing those papers with his right hand!”

Marshall laughed. “You called to tell me the president is right-handed?”

“No, he’s
left
-handed!”

“Oooh, let’s call 911,” Marshall said.

KC kept staring at the president on TV. Signing with the wrong hand. Looking tired and way too serious. Almost like a different person.…

Her imagination kicked in. What if this guy was a fake? What if the real president had been kidnapped? What if he’d been drugged or … KC shook her head.

She could almost hear her mom warning her—for the millionth time—not to jump to conclusions.

Then she remembered that headline: “President Thornton Says No to Human Cloning.”

“That’s it!” KC cried.

“Marshall, get up here right now!” she yelled into the phone. “Someone cloned the president!”

A few minutes later, KC’s doorbell rang. She let Marshall in.

“All right,” he said. He threw himself onto the sofa. “Tell me why you think the president has been cloned.”

KC sat in the chair by Marshall. “You don’t believe me? Look!” On the TV, President Thornton continued to sign papers. “He’s signing papers with his right hand!”

Marshall stared at KC. “That means he was cloned? Maybe he hurt his left hand.”

“There’s other stuff, Marsh,” KC said. She pointed to the TV just as the president
stood up. He walked away without saying a word. “Don’t you think that’s weird?” asked KC. “He didn’t smile or shake hands or anything. He acts like I did when I had the flu!”

“So, maybe he has the flu.”

KC glared at Marshall. “Having the flu wouldn’t make him sign papers with his other hand!” she said. “Something is wrong with him!”

Marshall glanced at the TV screen. The president was gone. Reporters were packing up to leave. “He did look a little different,” Marshall admitted.

“He looked different because it wasn’t him!” KC said. “It was a clone!”

Marshall stared at KC for a minute. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s say you’re right. The President of the United States
has been cloned. Who did it? Why? When?”

KC paced back and forth in front of the sofa. “I don’t know! Don’t try to confuse me,” she said. “But that guy on TV didn’t act the way our president acts. I know, Marshall. I watch him every night!” KC kept pacing.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Marshall said.

“Shhh, I’m thinking,” KC said. She stopped pacing. “Got it!”

Marshall slumped into the sofa pillows. “I don’t think I want to hear this,” he muttered.

“Listen, I’ll tell my mom I’m sleeping at your apartment tonight. You tell your parents you’re sleeping here.”

“Why?”

KC shoved him toward the door. “I’ll tell you later. Meet me downstairs in five minutes!”

“But wh—?”

“And bring a jar of your spiders!”

Before Marshall could say another word, KC slammed the door. Grinning, she ran to the kitchen. She wrote a note for her mom, then grabbed some snacks from the fridge.