Free Vote by Gary Paulsen Page B

turnout would be low. Public apathy, which everyone in the media talks about like it’s a bad thing, was probably going to be the watchword of the day.
    Oh, how very very wrong I was.
    Because there was a bunch of kids—the phrase
teeming throng
would not be out of line here—waiting on the school steps and, when they saw me, they surged forward, shouting questions. Believe me, that experience is a lot more interestingto watch on television than it is to see up close and personal.
    “What are you planning for the eighth-grade class trip?”
    “Do you have any thoughts about how to combat the image of today’s youth as selfish and entitled?”
    “How will you work effectively with the student council?”
    “Will you appoint a vice president from a lower grade so there’s a more seamless transition next year?”
    “When will the influence-peddling, favor-selling, crooked racket of elected officials stop?”
    That last question had been shouted by an adult reporter who’d apparently shown up at the wrong place. “City hall is half a mile away, sir, the
other
building with the flag out front,” I said.
    My head started spinning. People weren’t bored and apathetic. They were obsessed, kind of angry and expecting solid answers and genuine change.
    If the public is this demanding, no wonder politicians are unresponsive and distant.
    I broke away and slipped into the nearest restroom for a few seconds of solitude. I was leaning against the sink, my head down, when I heard the door open. I lifted my face to see Katie standing behind me. I did a quick spot check: yup, urinals. I hadn’t accidentally wandered into the wrong john. Katie had followed me there deliberately.
    “Please tell me you’re not going to be as trite and cliché as to attempt to cast aspersions on Cash’s character today,” Katie said.
    “Of course not,” I said disgustedly. At least not until after I looked up what
aspersions
meant.
    Which reminded me: I’ve got to start carrying around note cards, a clipboard, a thesaurus and a dictionary once elected. To handle moments just like this. No wonder politicians have big support staffs with them; they carry the supplies, leaving the candidate’s hands free for shaking and waving.
    “I’m glad to hear that. Because I’ve been—
Cash
has been—working too hard all week to fall victim to a cheap political tactic like trash talk.”
    “That was Tuesday’s plan, but I’m over it now.”
    “Relieved to hear that.” She threw a look over her shoulder toward the door, on the other side of which were the restless voters. She sighed. “Tough crowd.”
    “How’d Cash do when he got to school and faced them?”
    “He grinned and waved, and then everyone stopped hurling questions at him and tried to shake his hand. He signed a lot of autographs, took a bunch of pictures. Crowd control: A-plus. Message delivery: fail.”
    “What’s it been like working on his campaign?”
    She dropped her eyes. “It’s been fine.”
    “Uh-huh. Did you volunteer to work for him because he’s cute or because you wanted to get on my nerves?”
    “A little of both. Why did you run?”
    “I wanted to impress Tina and being student-body president sounded awesome.”
    “What about now?”
    “After hearing all those questions and realizing people really want things to change around here, now I want to see if I have what it takes to really do something good for the school.”
    “Me too.”
    “What about Cash?”
    “I don’t want to throw him under the bus, because I think he means well, but Cash spent more time deciding which head shots to use on the flyers than he did studying the position statements I wrote.”
    “Yeah, well, as long as we’re being honest with each other: I’m pretty sure I’ve got the personality to lead, but I think I might not be the most dedicated guy there ever was. I like coming up with plans, but I’ve never been so good at, you know, implementing them.” I thought she’d