Chocolate Strike

“Kids in other towns are already fighting the price hike,” Thomas informed the group.

“The newspaper said they’re making signs and marching in front of stores that are charging eight cents for a chocolate bar.”

Maggie’s eyes opened wide, and Thomas looked away. He hated the idea of protesting in front of his father’s shop, but something had to be done.

“If kids in other parts of the country are protesting,” Thomas said, focusing on his best friend, Jeffrey, at the back of the group, “it’s time we do the same here in Victoria.”

“We should go to Ottawa and tell the government what we think!” shouted Frank Brown, raising a fist in the air.

“Frank,” Jeffrey said, “how will we get all the way to Ottawa when we can’t even afford an eight-cent chocolate bar?”

Frank shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. “Just a thought.”

“I have another idea,” said Thomas, “one that adults use all the time. We’ll boycott. That means we all have to stop buying chocolate.”

“What?” asked a small kid in a checkered shirt. “But we came here because we want to buy chocolate!”

“Thomas is right,” said Jeffrey, pushing his glasses back on his freckled nose. “If no one’s buying any chocolate bars, the shopkeepers will have to sell them cheaper, just to get rid of them.”

“We’ll make big signs,” Thomas said, “and a few kids outside every candy shop will tell everyone going inside that they shouldn’t buy chocolate.”

Maggie frowned, and Thomas knew she was wondering how this plan would affect their father’s shop. But Thomas believed this was the only way.

If kids saw him defending his father, they’d turn against him for sure. He clapped his hands and asked if anyone had questions. Then he took down names for protest shifts.

Protest

“I got the cardboard!” Thomas arrived breathless at Jeffrey’s house. His father had given him a million chores that afternoon, so he’d had to pedal hard to make it on time. No way was he going to be late for the sign-making!

“Everyone’s around back,” Jeffrey said. “George brought the paints, and Jill has a bunch of paintbrushes. Mum’s got the whole back porch covered in newspaper so we don’t drip, and Al, Lynne, and Harry are here, too.”

Everyone was crammed onto the porch, wielding paintbrushes and talking about the best slogans for their signs. “Don’t buy eight-cent bars. Go on strike!” Harry shouted.

“I’ve got a better one,” said Al. “I thought it up in math class. Come on folks, don’t be a drip, ’cause eight-cent bars are just a rip!”

Everyone laughed, but Jill thought maybe they should tone things down a bit. “How about, Be helpful: don’t buy eight-cent bars?”

“Nah,” said Thomas. “We’ve got to be forceful. Down with the eight-cent bars. Up with five-cent bars! That’s what I’m putting on mine.”

Talk went on for a long time, paint flew and dribbled, and in the end, all the kids were smudged and grinning, with enough signs to march in front of every chocolate-selling shop in Victoria.

Storming the Legislature

“Have you heard?” Jeffrey asked a few days later as he and Thomas grabbed their snacks for recess. “There’s going to be a march on the Legislature. This afternoon. After school.”

Thomas’s jaw dropped. Sure, the protests in front of the shops had been going well — most customers had smiled or congratulated the kids for sticking up for themselves. But protesting on the street was one thing; talking to politicians was quite another. Would they listen? Or would the kids get in trouble for wasting their time?

“Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Tommy,” said Chuck, ambling up behind Jeffrey.

Oh, why couldn’t Chuck just leave him alone? Thomas pulled himself up tall and locked eyes with him. “I’ll be there,” he said.

Hours later, Thomas and his schoolmates made their way to the Legislative Buildings, waving their signs. Their school was closer than any other in town, but they didn’t have to wait long before other children flooded the lawn in front of the buildings, too.

Thomas kept a close eye on Maggie and her friend Jo, who looked as nervous as he felt. If anything happened to them, he’d be in trouble for sure.

Within half an hour, over two hundred kids were marching and shouting, making such a racket that a man in a blue uniform poked his head out the front door.

“Five cents is common sense!” Thomas yelled.

“We want five-cent bars!” shouted Jeffrey.

“Let’s go talk to the government!” called a kid in a newsboy cap.

The whole crowd shifted, and Thomas took a deep breath as he felt himself swept toward the big, main building along with everyone else. They pushed open the doors and flowed into the bright, polished halls.

“What are you going to do about chocolate prices?” the boy in the cap demanded of the first man they saw.

“How do I know?” The security guard stood with his hands on his hips in front of the rotunda, blocking their path. “I’m just supposed to keep you out of here!”

“Too late!” Maggie called. The crowd surged past, up the stairs with the stained glass windows, toward the gallery.

As they moved, other men and a few women jumped back to watch from the doorways. Someone asked a man in a suit what he planned to do about the price hike, and Thomas barely caught his answer as he sailed by: “Uh, um, well now, I guess we’ll have to give that some thought. Er… are you supposed to be in here?”

More security guards were coming now, and janitors, and up ahead someone was shouting, and the kids at the front of the group paused and began to back up. Soon the whole crowd was retreating down the stairs, cheering as they poured out of the building. The adults were shaking their heads but smiling, and Thomas was both relieved and proud. When a man with a camera appeared outside, Thomas was the first to spot him.

“This way, everyone!” he called. “A photographer wants to take our picture!”

Children, signs, and bicycles crowded onto the front steps of the large stone building, the same spot where photographers always took pictures of really important visitors.

As the crowd shouted, “We want five-cent bars,” the photographer snapped one picture after another.

Many adults were alarmed by the possibility, and the schools withdrew their support for the protest. The strikes stopped, but not before the children achieved something remarkable.

All across the country, they had made their point. Shopkeepers found ways to continue selling chocolate bars to kids for five cents, despite the new prices.