Free The Kid Who Ran For President by Dan Gutman

control, Moon?”
    â€œI’m definitely in favor,” I replied confidently. “If we get guns off the streets, fewer people will be shot and killed.”
    â€œBut Moon, the Bill of Rights specifically gives citizens the right to bear arms.”
    â€œOh,” I replied. “Well, if that’s in the Bill of Rights, then people should have the right to own a gun.”
    â€œYou can’t take both sides on every issue, Moon!”
    â€œWhy not?” I complained. “I can see both sides of every issue.”
    â€œYou look wishy-washy,” Lane said. “The public wants its leaders to have strong opinions.”
    â€œBut what if both sides of an issue have a good argument?”
    â€œThen you follow the opinions on the computer,” he said, gesturing toward the numbers on the screen. “Those are the opinions the public wants you to take. People vote for politicians to represent them. So doesn’t it make sense that the politician’s opinion should be the same as the public’s opinion?”
    â€œThat feels backward to me,” I said. “I think the president should form an opinion first and inspire the public to agree with that opinion.”
    â€œMoon, you don’t have any opinions!”
    He was right, I suppose. Taking sides has always been a problem with me. I can form an opinion, but as soon as somebody comes along and explains the opposite view, I change my mind. The last person I speak with always sounds right. Maybe that’s why people like me.
    Lane and I spent the next three weeks cramming for the debate. He wrote out my opinions on all the major issues and I memorized them. I didn’t learn a whole lot about the issues, but I learned which ones America was in favor of and which ones America opposed.
    Lane would grill me by firing questions at me repeatedly — “What should we do about illegal immigration? Unemployment? Medicare? The minimum wage?” I had all the answers on index cards. It was hard to keep every thing straight in my head.
    Boning up for the debate was much tougher than school, which I was missing more and more of as October went by and the debate got closer.

With my army of Moonies all over the country working on our behalf, Moon & June kept rising in the polls. We were just ten points behind President White and five points behind Senator Dunn on the day of the big debate.
    Lane and I took a limo out to Chicago that morning and checked into the Palmer House hotel. What I found most amazing was that every where I went, people knew me. I had hardly traveled out of Madison in my life, and everybody in Chicago knew me!
    People in the airport rushed over to shake my hand. The hotel staff treated me like a visiting dignitary. Kids on the street looked at me like I was a rock star.
    The debate was two hours away. I started putting on my gray sport jacket and Lane stopped me.
    â€œGray is boring,” he said, picking out a dark blue jacket and bright red-striped tie. “The camera will love you in this. Wear colors of authority.”
    I started to protest, but decided against it. Lane had gotten us this far. It wouldn’t be fair to start calling the shots myself now.
    Lane called a limo to take us to McCormick Place, a convention center where the debate was to be held. Security was tight. There were police and Secret Service agents every where, talking into their sleeves, constantly scanning the crowd for potential troublemakers.
    The thought crossed my mind that it would be cooler to be a Secret Service agent than to be the president.
    When we got inside, we were escorted to a room for our last-minute preparations before air time.
    â€œThis is it, Moon,” Lane said. “What you say tonight can put us over the top. You can do it. I know you can.” He sounded like my Little League coach.
    I was nervous as a cat in a vet’s waiting room, and it showed. Sweat was coming through my shirt. I