Cleo Edison Oliver in Persuasion Power

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Cleo Edison Oliver in Persuasion Power Page 6

by Sundee T. Frazier


  Finally, they handed things over to Pastor Stubblefield. Was this when she would get to speak? “As many—No, I’m sure all of you know, we have a very enterprising young lady in our congregation.” Cleo beamed from her pew. “Cleopatra Oliver has an announcement to make.”

  Cleo shot up like a firecracker. She strode confidently toward the pulpit, but climbing the steps her legs started to wobble. She grasped the case tightly to her chest and turned to face the congregation. She smiled big, even though her heart hammered so hard she almost expected to hear it knocking against the plastic carrier.

  Then she saw Mr. Williams—“Grandpa Williams,” as she and her brothers called him—sitting with the deacons in the front row. His eyes sparkled with pride and his smile said, Show ’em what you got! Once again, she felt like her normal, bold self, comfortable with the limelight. She took the handheld microphone from Pastor Stubblefield and set the case on the ground.

  “My friend Caylee and I have started a new business, Passion Clips. She’d be here, but she goes to Saint Bart’s over on Lake Avenue.” People nodded understandingly. She went on, talking faster and faster, her free hand gesturing wildly. She grabbed the case, eager to unveil their product and wow everyone.

  She tugged on the latch, but trying to hold the microphone and open the case at the same time was awkward, and the latch wasn’t giving. Just as Pastor Stubblefield stepped forward to help, she yanked as hard as she could. The carrier flipped forward, catapulting every single clip through the air. People in the front row ducked or held up their hands, trying to avoid getting hit in the face.

  Cleo stood, stunned.

  Grandpa Williams bent over and picked up Mia’s chef hat barrette, which had landed at his feet. He used his dog-handled walking stick to push himself to standing, looking at the barrette the whole time. Finally, he held the barrette in the air. “Talk about craftsmanship! Ooo-ee!” He ran his hand over his balding head. “These clips are so fantastic, even the follicly-challenged, like me, will want to wear them!” Laughter sounded around the church. He clipped the puffy white hat to the lapel of his suit coat.

  “And we make them to order,” Cleo reminded everyone. “So you can tell the world who you are!”

  “How about barbecued ribs?” Grandpa Williams was famous for his mouthwatering barbecue. “Could you make me a baby back ribs barrette to go with this chef’s hat?” People hooted and hollered some more.

  “Sure! And only seven dollars for the pair,” she added.

  “For two one-of-a-kind handmade pieces of art like this? Folks, that’s a bargain right there.”

  People nodded around the church.

  “And we’re giving away ten percent of our profits to help orphans go to school in other countries.”

  Cleo was about to start picking up clips, but Pastor Stubblefield grasped her shoulder. He had the mic again. “Glory to God! This young woman has already learned the value of tithing. Now listen, we need to support the young people in our community. Especially young entrepreneurs! Everyone here can afford to buy at least one clip from this lovely young lady. You’ve heard ‘The Lord loves a cheerful giver’? Well, in this case, the Lord will also love a cheerful buyer!”

  Everyone applauded. A few people shouted, “Amen!” Cleo scrambled around, picking up barrettes. With others helping, it took only a minute and she was back in her seat between Mom and Dad, where she belonged.

  Grandpa Williams turned around and winked at her. She winked back, wishing that he were her real grandpa.

  Monday morning, Caylee came over before school to package the barrettes they’d completed over the weekend. They had finished all of the school orders Sunday afternoon, but hadn’t even started on the twenty-eight church orders. Fortune’s special-edition pyramid clips would be done by that evening, Caylee promised. She needed a special gold glitter spray paint to finish the job, which her mom had agreed to pick up on her way home.

  Cleo inspected their work. The clips were packaged in small, sheer drawstring bags Mom had bought but never used, a business card in each one. Perfect.

  “Off to deliver to our customers!” Cleo kissed Mom on the cheek and hoisted her backpack full of orders onto her shoulders.

  “And go to school, right?” Mom said, smiling. “You remember that little thing called ‘school’?”

  “Of course!” Cleo said, pushing past the screen door. She felt like running all the way there. “See you after school, when we’ll all be a little richer!”

  Cleo and Caylee walked side by side. Josh, his LA Dodgers cap secure on his head, followed behind.

  “Ooo, I can’t wait to hand people their clips!” Cleo said. “I hope after they see these first ones, they’ll want to add to their collection.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “What Passion Clips would be in your collection to tell the world who you are?” Caylee asked.

  “I bet I could come up with a hundred of them!”

  “A hundred?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a lot to say!”

  “You need a barrette with a mouth on it.”

  Cleo nodded emphatically. “Definitely. It’s the key to my superpower. I think I should have a pair of mouths.”

  “Uh, two mouths on you would be dangerous.”

  Cleo flicked Caylee’s shoulder. “Hey!”

  “Just joking.” Caylee grinned.

  “And you should have a pair of ears—”

  “I already do!”

  Cleo stuck out her tongue. “Ear barrettes, silly! Because you’re a great listener.”

  “Awww. Thanks.”

  Cleo went back to imagining her Passion Clips collection. Her lips squished to one side and then the other. Her forehead bunched with the effort of turning “who she was” into things that could go on barrettes. It was kind of like making up similes in class.

  She was all about starting businesses. An entrepreneur. But how could that be shown with a hair clip? As with Fortune, money wasn’t the most important thing to her (although it was still important). What she loved was the thrill of having an idea and seeing it turn into something real. Having something that others wanted. That’s what she liked about doing business.

  “What about basketballs?” Caylee prompted. “You love to play basketball, and you’re good at it too.”

  “Ooo, and jerseys for the LA Sparks—my favorite WNBA team. My favorite team, period.”

  “I think you should have tornados,” Caylee said.

  “Tornados?”

  “Yeah, because you’re sort of a force of nature, you know. You make an impact wherever you go.”

  Cleo considered that. She’d never thought of herself as a “force of nature.” She liked it though.

  “You also leave a huge mess!” Caylee grinned again.

  Josh started making kissing sounds. “I’m telling everyone your business is called Passion Lips!”

  “Fine by me.” Cleo picked up the pace. The school was in sight. “Any press is good press, as far as I’m concerned.” She had another thought. “Hey, Josh! You just gave me a great idea! After we get Passion Clips up and running, we could add a line of personalized lip balms. Passion Lips! Mixing flavors based on customers’ requests!”

  “Ooo … I’d want cherry bubblegum,” Caylee said. “Or maybe peach cream soda.”

  “Pineapple peppermint! Chili lime! Strawberry cinnamon!” Cleo added. “The possibilities would be endless!”

  “Dorito hot dog?” Josh asked.

  “Sure!” Cleo said.

  Caylee wrinkled her nose.

  “Okay,” Cleo said. “Maybe not endless.” They all laughed, but she still thought personalized lip balms had potential.

  *

  On the playground, Cleo felt like a big beach ball, full of air and enthusiasm, bounding from place to place in search of the girls whose barrettes they’d completed. They started with the sixth-graders. Each one was happy with her clips. None of them had brough
t money.

  Caylee whispered, “Shouldn’t we keep the clips until they pay?”

  Cleo whispered back, “We’ll bill them. Don’t worry. We want girls to wear them around school today. You know, build the buzz.”

  “The buzz?” Caylee’s forehead wrinkled.

  “Yeah. Bzzz-bzzz.” Cleo flapped her bent arms like a bee.

  “What do bees have to do with selling our clips?”

  “Nothing. It’s business talk, Jelly. We want everyone to be buzzing like bees about our product!”

  The last sixth-grader, LaLa Lopez, stuck the Yodas in her long brown hair immediately. “Wow. These are so cool. They look way better than I thought they would.”

  “Thanks … I guess?” Caylee said.

  Cleo nudged Caylee. “Bzzz,” she mumbled. LaLa ran off. Cleo cupped her hands around her mouth. “Don’t forget to tell everyone in your class about Passion Clips!” Hopefully her satisfied customer had heard. “And you can pay us tomorrow!”

  Amelie loved her microphones. But she didn’t have any money.

  Steffy loved her balance beams. No money.

  Tessa grinned wildly when she saw her horses and Tootsie Rolls. She still had holes where her canine teeth had been, up until she’d become a client of Cleo’s Quick and Painless Tooth Removal Service a couple weeks back. She loved her Passion Clips with a passion, she said. The palominos were precious. The Tootsie Rolls looked just like the real thing. And the fourteen dollars she owed them was at home.

  Cleo the Beach Ball was deflated. “That’s okay,” she said a little glumly. “Just promise to wear them every day until you pay us. Deal?”

  Tessa smiled again. “Deal!” She clipped the horses in her hair and raced off to show Steffy, who was in the field doing flips.

  This time Caylee prodded Cleo. “Bzzz-bzzz?” She flapped her “wings.”

  “R-i-i-i-ght. Bzzz-bzzz.” Cleo smiled and flapped alongside her friend. “To Principal Yu’s office!” They were flitting toward the building when the whistle blew. Their delivery to the principal would have to wait.

  They lined up as usual on the playground outside their classroom door. Cleo noticed that Lexie wasn’t in her class line. “Where’s your sister?” she asked Cole, who was just ahead of her.

  “Becoming the next face of Sunshine Sparkle juice.” He smirked.

  “Ohhh … right. The commercial.”

  Mr. Boring opened the door and the class filed in. Cleo dangled the bags with Mr. B’s orders in them. “Dolphins and books with your daughters’ names. We hope Abigail and Alivia enjoy their Passion Clips so much they’ll be begging you for more!”

  Mr. B took the bags. “Thank you, girls. Make sure I give you your money before the day is over.”

  “Thanks, Mr. B. And don’t worry. We will!” Cleo smiled at Caylee.

  The morning announcements began over the loudspeaker. Cleo snuck a peek at her teacher. He was involved in something at his desk. She held the drawstring bag down low and whispered at Cole. “Hey—will you give this to Lexie?”

  Cole looked at her like, Why should I?

  “Please?” she whispered urgently.

  “I guess I can do that.” He held up the sheer bag to see what was inside. “On second thought … no. She’s already got a big enough head.”

  Cleo couldn’t argue with that. “But you’ll see her before I will.” Her voice’s volume rose a little too much. Mr. Boring looked up.

  “Cleo.” He used his first finger and thumb to make a twisting motion in front of his lips. “Lock it.”

  Cleo clamped her mouth shut but the rest of her went into action. She pulled out a sheet of paper, folded it in thirds and ripped it along one of the creases, as quietly as she could. She wrote Lexie Lewis a bill for four dollars, including a small reminder to pay within seven days. She even included the word please, because she was polite as well as professional. She folded the bill, slipped it into the baggie with the clip, and wrote another note—this time to Cole. PLEASE deliver this to your sister. ☺☺☺

  He read the note and wrote below it: OK. For YOU, I’ll do it.

  Why did he have that silly grin on his face? She ignored it and wrote one last note: THANK YOU.

  Later, they were able to deliver Principal Yu his daughter’s clips. He not only loved them, he promised to highlight them in the next edition of New Heights’ News. Best of all, he had money!

  *

  At home that afternoon, Cleo hustled through her math problems, scanned her spelling words, and quickly measured each of her mealworms. “Making good progress, guys,” she said into the container. “Or girls.” The worms burrowed into the oat bran after their measuring ordeal.

  She zoomed back to the kitchen, grabbed a pack of cheddar crackers with peanut butter, and plopped herself in front of the TV, without getting snagged by either her mom or brothers. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

  Fortune was great, as always, but Cleo was having a hard time staying focused. When would Caylee show up with Fortune’s clips? To keep herself from going bonkers, she worked on the letter she would send with the clips. During a commercial break she ran upstairs, grabbed some paper, and hurried back so she wouldn’t miss anything.

  Now … what to say? It had to be the perfect pitch. She needed not only to persuade Fortune but also to convince her to have Cleo on her show. She needed to tell Fortune who she was! Cleo tapped the end of her pencil on the paper.

  What were her most appealing traits? Energetic. Outgoing. Persistent (of course). Adorable? Scratch that. She’d leave adorable for Lexie Lewis.

  She was ambitious. Persuasive. Not afraid to take charge. Independent. But aware of the importance of being on a team. She’d been point guard in basketball the last couple of years, and she never could have won all those games without her team’s much taller forwards and centers.

  Last but not least, she had a great product, plenty more ideas where that one had come from, and she’d make a fantastic guest. Better than the woman who was on the show right then, demonstrating her line of cleaning supplies that used nothing but water to clean stuff.

  Cleo’s mind continued to wander. She imagined herself sitting next to Fortune on her studio couch, telling her about her first sale at the age of two, and how her earliest memories included watching Fortune with her mom, and how many businesses she’d operated since then, and how she too had big plans—to run her own corporation, to build homes in other countries for kids who had lost their parents …

  And Cleo’s birth mom would see her on the show and know it was her (because how many adopted girls in the world had been given the name Cleopatra by their birth moms?), and she’d get in touch with Fortune and Fortune would have them both on the show as a follow-up.

  Cleo could picture it all. And it was perfect. She just needed to convince Fortune of the same. She started to write.

  A little while later, she was crumpling her fourth piece of paper. She’d barely started this draft, but she knew it was wrong. All wrong. Getting words to sound good on paper was so much more difficult than getting them to sound good coming from her mouth.

  The doorbell rang but she didn’t need to get up. Josh was already on his way to the door. A moment later, Caylee appeared in the family room. Cleo sprang to her feet. “Do you have them?”

  Caylee gave her a no-teeth, cat that’s eaten the mouse kind of smile. She nodded and reached into her craft tote. She pulled out a sheer drawstring baggie and dangled it in the air. Cleo held open her palms and Caylee gently placed the clips in her hands as if they were not merely replicas of pyramids but precious artifacts from inside an actual pharaoh’s tomb.

  Cleo slowly drew them from the bag.

  They were perfect!

  Caylee had sprayed the gold felt with the gold glitter paint to make the clips shimmer. She had drawn lines to make them look 3-D and to mark the levels of brick. The crowning final touch: She’d used her best cursive handwriting to w
rite Fortune across the face of one pyramid and the words Passion Is Purpose—Fortune’s Principle Number One for How to Build Your Business and Live the Life You Want—along the two sides of the other pyramid’s foundation.

  Cleo gave Caylee a huger-than-ever Bug-A-Hug. “I love’em-love’em-love’em!” She ran into the kitchen, where Mom was working on dinner. “Mom! Look! Passion Clips for Fortune! Can we mail them tonight? Please?”

  “Snazzy! Excellent work, girls.” She glanced at the clock over the sink. “Post office closes in ten minutes, but I can mail them tomorrow.”

  Cleo groaned. “I can’t wait until tomorrow!” Plus, if she left the unsealed letter with Mom, she would probably read it. If she told her mom not to read it, she definitely would. And she didn’t want Mom to read this one. It just felt too … private. Which made it a risk Cleo didn’t want to take.

  “Do you have a padded envelope?” Cleo asked. “I want to address it myself, and … and decorate it in an eye-catching way! These just have to get through to her.” She and Caylee exchanged an excited glance. “Just think, Mom! If Fortune wore our clips on air—or even had me on her show! That would be huge!”

  Mom put her hand on Cleo’s shoulder and looked into her face. “It would be very exciting. But, honey … you have to remember that Fortune Davies probably gets hundreds of messages and letters every week, many of them asking her to spotlight or promote a business or a product on her show. Don’t get your hopes up too high, sweetie.”

  Cleo let the words slide off her like grease on a non-stick pan. She was a seed in dirt, a dog chasing a scent, a dentist with a scaler! Nothing—not even her overly cautious mom—could stop her from trying to reach Fortune.

  Mom drove them to school the next day so they could stop at the post office on their way. Cleo and Caylee held the padded envelope between them in front of the outgoing mail slot so Mom could take a picture with her phone.

  Cleo had decorated the package with hearts, smiley faces, and stars. On the back, she’d also written two of her favorite Fortune Principles: Surround yourself with people who believe in you (Number Two), and Worth is measured not by how much we earn but by how much we give (Number Nine), and underlined and punctuated them with lots of exclamation marks.

 

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