The President’s Plaque: Part 1

My Steps

“Greet, shake, step, greet, shake, step,” I repeat in my head as I walk around the room. Greet, shake, step. My brother asks, “What are you doing? Besides being a drone, I mean.” I roll my eyes at him and continue my steps. Greet, shake, step. I continue my way around the room.
Okay, if you’re wondering why in the world I’m doing this at all, let me begin my fantastic tale of my trip to the White House! That’s right. I’M GOING TO MEET THE PRESIDENT TOMORROW!!
My name is Cindy. Cindy Lauren Albott. I live in Washington, D.C., and I’m in the 9th grade. I’m a nerd. Really, I am. I suck at sports, I get bullied a lot, and I already know more than some college seniors.
I’m going to meet the president tomorrow because I won the NMIHSS award! National Most Intelligent High School Student award. Every time, the winner is a senior. I’M THE FIRST WINNER THAT’S A FRESHMAN!!! A FRESHMAN!!!! *squeals* Yup, I’m a dork. I admit it. So I get to meet the president! Can you believe it? Well, I can’t. And I’m lucky I already live here, because if I didn’t, my parents would NEVER let me fly across the country to the White House!
ANYWAY, back to my goofy moves. Yesterday, this guy came to my house and explained everything to me. He gave me my certificate, and he told me that I will also be meeting some of the other nerds who won the award before me.
“You have to greet your fellow award-winners with ‘Hello. I’m Cindy. Nice to meet you. I’m the winner of this year’s NMIHSS award. What year did you win it?’. Then you shake their hand, step to the right and repeat again with the next person. GOT IT?!” he yelled into my face.
“Yes…” I said meekly.
“At the very end of the line, the president will shake your hand, give you a plaque, and lead you into a sitting room. He will ask you several questions about how you feel and what job you are aiming for, and other things,” the man continued.
Then he looked at me in a creepy way, finished his coffee, and left.
So now I’m here in my room, practicing this.
My 9-year-old brother pipes in, “You look like a robot that’s been hit by lightning! If only you were, then I could–”
“SHUT UP!!!”
He makes a beeline out my door. What a twerp.