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

the little guys. The small businesses, small towns. Middle America.”
    â€œPeople trying to get by, make a decent living, contribute to a greater good through balanced taxes,” said the general. “Everyday people. Fairness in work and hiring. Personal freedom.”
    â€œBattleground states,” I added.
    Stu reached over and ruffled my hair. “Bingo! You’re getting it, kid. You’re really getting it!”
    Fine, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get it. And I definitely didn’t want him messing up my hair. It wasn’t spiky and he wasn’t going to make it that way.
    A few minutes later, we pulled up into the convention center parking lot. Secret Service agents got off the bus first to make sure the area was secure.
    â€œSo here’s what’s going to happen,” the general said while we waited. “If they ask you what your ideas are, you just keep repeating what you said yesterday.” He glanced down at his notes. “The bit about saving jobs and manufacturing.”
    â€œRight.” What did I say yesterday? I couldn’t quite remember, exactly. I must have blocked it out because it was so embarrassing. I guessed I’d been talking about FreezeStar, though. “How one plant closing affects a town?”
    â€œYes, that. Everyone can relate to that,” the general said. “Now, as for the clarinet … if they ask you to play, well, that’s up to you.”
    â€œIn that case, I think I’ll leave it on the bus,” I said. “At least for today.”
    Stu nodded. “That’s just fine. Until we figure out the best way to use your clarinet playing, that’s probably the best plan.”
    â€œYou’re going to use it?” I asked.
    â€œWe use everything,” said Stu. “That’s politics. We’ll use a cat, a kitten, a grandmother if we have to.” He got that wide-eyed, lightbulb-going-off-above-his-head look. “Do you have a grandmother?”
    â€œSure, I have two of them,” I said. “But—”
    â€œWhere do they live? Are they mobile?” he asked.
    â€œSure. Sure they’re mobile,” I said. “I mean, Grandma E. can’t drive at night, and Grammy S. has artificial knees, but—”
    â€œBionic grandmothers who occasionally need rides. We’ll keep that in mind,” he said, nodding. “What else you got?”
    Kristen looked at her clipboard. “He has asthma,” she said.
    â€œLet’s use that!” Stu cried. He was so excited about it that I knew he must not have asthma himself.
    â€œChronic medical conditions are important to Bettina. Very important,” the general explained. “She’s pushing for universal health coverage, and she’s made a lot of changes in her state to make health care more affordable. If elected, she’ll continue to fight against the insurance lobbyists and special interests.”
    I had no idea what a lobbyist was. Someone who hung around lobbies? Was it the same thing as loitering?
    â€œAnything else we should know about your relatives? Uncles? Aunts? Grandfathers?” Stu asked. “If you have any crazy relatives hidden away in an attic, tell us now.”
    â€œHuh?” I asked.
    He fake-punched me on the arm. “Just kidding. Who was that older guy you were talking to when we pulled into the parking lot?”
    â€œOh, him? That was Mort. He’s definitely not crazy. And he’s not a relative, either. But he’s kind of like a grandfather to me sometimes.” I thought about how we’d sometimes get ice-cream cones after my lesson, and how he gave me ten dollars every year for my birthday.
    There were also the times he criticized me and made me play the same measure over and over again. Then he was more like a teacher. A really hard one who never gave out A’s.
    This was pathetic. I’d only been gone an hour, and I already kind of missed