Free How Not to Run for President by Catherine Clark Page A

problem. Typical American story.” Stu made some notes. “And what kind of dog was that, again?”
    â€œUh, a mutt,” I said. “Her name’s Sassafras.”
    â€œA mutt, a mutt. Perfect.” Stu nodded, then looked up at me. “Any problems with the dog? Has she ever been picked up for biting anyone?” he asked.
    â€œWhat? No!” I said, wondering why my dog mattered so much.
    â€œYour brother—he hasn’t been to juvie or anything. right?” the general asked.
    â€œJuvie?” I asked.
    â€œJail for kids,” Stu explained.
    I could see Emma leaning closer. She probably thought that anyone who wasn’t rich like her went to jail. “No, of course not. He’s annoying, and he’s kind of vain. He’s always texting. That’s the worst I can say,” I told them.
    â€œFine, fine. Typical American teen,” said Stu. “Our team has already done more extensive background checks on you, but I wanted to get your take on things, too. Plus, the more we get to know you, the more fun this will be, right?”
    â€œRight.” I coughed, feeling kind of nervous. “So, uh, what do you guys want me to do here?” I asked. “Or wherever it is that we’re going?”
    Stu shrugged. “No biggie. Just be yourself.”
    The general raised one eyebrow. “Oh, that can’t possibly be enough,”
    Emma laughed. But as insulting as the general’s comment was, I couldn’t help agreeing with him. “right. Like, shouldn’t I do something? Or why am I here?”
    â€œMm-hm,” the general said. “Exactly.”
    â€œNo worries.” Stu patted my back. “There will be a place for you in the Brandon campaign. We’ll have to wait a bit and see just what it is.”
    A sudden, scary thought occurred to me. I was twelve, and Emma, the governor’s snooty daughter, was twelve.…
    I leaned over to the general and asked, “Am I only here just to be friends with her? That’s not it, is it? Because we’re not going to be friends.”
    â€œKid, I have no idea why you’re here. If it were up to me, you’d be back home in Ohio, playing baseball. Or trying to, anyway.” He chuckled.
    â€œYou’re the one who came to my house,” I reminded him. “You’re the one who insisted.” Had he already forgotten that?
    â€œRight. Well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The poll numbers were up, way up. You’re an asset to the campaign. You represent middle America. That’s a good thing.”
    â€œAnd our numbers are still looking great. We’re still getting tons of hits on our site, linked from your YouTube video,” Stu said. “You’ve gone viral.”
    â€œI’m just worried that this is all too temporary,” said the general. “We could backslide any second, and did you hear where Flynn is headed today? The Naval Academy. That’s a tough image to compete with. Uniforms, flags, naval officers.” He shook his head. “We may take a dive after that.”
    â€œWhat about the vice president?” asked Kristen.
    â€œMathias is visiting a wind farm in Iowa. For whatever that’s worth.” The general didn’t sound impressed. “We’ve already lost the rabid environmentalists, but we’re holding on to the moderates.”
    â€œWell, what do we have today?” asked Kristen.
    Stu quickly checked his BlackBerry. “We’re headed to Elyria to a big event sponsored by Ohio Grandmothers for Peace. After that, more appearances in and around Cleveland. And we have a kid with a clarinet that he may or may not know how to play.”
    â€œI can play!” I insisted. “You got me on a bad day—that’s all.”
    Neither one of them said anything for a second. Then Stu said, “This is working for us. We’re scrappy; that’s our image. We’re for