“No. What are you talking about? And don’t talk so loud,” she whispered.
“All the attacks on my character. You’re the one who made that happen,” I said.“It was you, not the other campaigns, wasn’t it? Not that you’d ever admit it, but—”
“Me? How would I have the power and connections to do that?” Emma asked.
“Please. You’re the daughter of a popular presidential candidate,” I reminded her. “You have all kinds of power.”
“Me? Power?” she scoffed. “Have you noticed that I don’t get to do anything I want?”
“If you wanted something to happen, you could do it. You’ve been living in the governor’s mansion for the past few years,” I pointed out. “You know people. And you told me you wanted me to bring down the campaign but that I was messing up. You said you were going to take care of it yourself. You even threatened me, remember?”
“But I—I would never attack someone’s family,” Emma said. “I know what that feels like!”
“Then why did you do it?” I asked.
“I didn’t!” she yelled.
“Yes, you did!” I pushed her a little. She shoved me back. We started pushing and shoving each other.
“Kids, kids!” Kristen yelled, pulling us apart. “Enough already! Get on the bus!”
I marched up the steps after Emma, with Kristen herding us as if we were a couple of out-of-control pigs.
A somber group of campaign workers sat in the front of the bus. They were slouched against windows, sort of dazed. By their expressions, you’d think they’d just found out the world was ending. Was the campaign in that much trouble? Because of me?
I sat toward the back, the way I always did. A few minutes after we headed out of the parking lot, Stu came to get me. I headed up front to the couch area, where the campaign staff did all its plotting.
The governor patted the seat next to her. Emma, never one to butt out, followed and stood behind me, in the aisle. Stu and the general were on the sofa facing us, looking very serious. “Aidan, listen,” the governor said. “This is hard for me to say. I know it’ll be hard for you to hear.”
“You want me to leave, I know. And it’s okay,” I said. “No one wants out of here more than I do.” I glared at Emma over my shoulder.
It would only take me a few years to fix my image. Five, tops. I braced myself. Now what? I tossed a couple of Lime Brains into my mouth.
“It’s not that. Yet. It’s just … you’ve been good to us, I think, so we want to be honest with you,” the governor said. “Now, some evidence has been uncovered that indicates … well … listen. Sometimes in life we discover things that—”
“Spit it out already, Bettina,” the general said. “Kid, your mother wasn’t laid off because of the economy. She may have been fired. And you know why? Because she’s allegedly been spying for the competition.”
“Spying?” I repeated. “My mom?”
“A Chinese corporation,” Stu said. “They’re making a big splash in the American appliance market, making good stuff for low prices. It’s called—well, I can’t pronounce it in Chinese, but it translates to Cold rainbow.”
“C-C-Cold rainbow?” I sputtered. I was in shock. Even my teeth were chattering. My mom—spying at FreezeStar? They couldn’t be serious. Not my mom. She wouldn’t do something like that.
All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe.
“I know it must be a huge shock, but we felt we had to tell you. We’ve been looking into the story, and it may not hold up. There are some inconsistencies and they’re denying the whole thing, but it has the ring of truth.” The governor gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “From what I know of you, your mom’s a good person and a great mom, and if she was doing this, it was only to support her family. This recession has put people in a bind—”
“Excuse me, but are you going to sit here and tell me it’s okay to give out trade secrets?” the general asked.
“Aidan? What do you have to say?” asked Stu. “Does this come as a total surprise? Do you think it has any root in reality, or did you see any signs—”
I shook my head. There were no signs because it wasn’t true! I was gasping for air. I pointed at my throat. I needed help. I needed my inhaler! I wasn’t getting any air!
“Oh, my gosh,” Kristen said, fanning her face. “He’s choking. Or he’s having an asthma attack. He can’t breathe!”
“I’ll go find his inhaler,” Emma said, dashing to the back of the bus. Seconds later she came back, holding something that was definitely not my inhaler. “I couldn’t find it, but I got this!”
Then she jabbed a needle into my leg.
“Ow!” The shock of it made me cough out the Lime Brain that had gotten stuck in my windpipe. “Ow!” I screamed again. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Emma replied smugly. “I held it there for ten seconds. That’s right, isn’t it, Mom?”
The governor leaped to her feet. “Emma, that’s for allergic reactions! That’s a prescription for you! You don’t go around just jabbing people!”
“I was choking on a Lime Brain, not freaking out from peanut butter. Who doesn’t know the international sign of choking?” I asked as I rubbed my thigh. I felt this surge of energy running all around my body as the medicine circulated.
“I know, but I thought you were choking because you were allergic to something,” Emma said.
“I do know one thing. Once you administer an EpiPen you have to be seen by a doctor. Immediately.” Stu ran up to talk to the bus driver, while the governor had me lie down on the sofa. I didn’t feel like lying down. I felt like running beside the bus. What if I was allergic to the antiallergic stuff?
Emma was hovering beside me, looking worried. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked. “I’m really sorry. I just—you weren’t breathing right—I thought your throat was closing up—”
“Emma, give him some air. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.” The governor tapped my ankle. “You’re fine, right?”
I nodded. My throat felt sore, but I wasn’t going to die on anyone.
“We’ll be at the hospital soon. I’ll sit here with you until we get there. Do you want me to call your parents, or would that just make them worry more?” she asked.
“Call them when we get there,” I said. “Please.”
“Not a problem. Oh, Aidan. You’re not having a very good day, are you? And it’s all my fault.” The governor sighed.
“And mine,” Emma said. “I’m sorry. I guess I overreacted.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You guess?”
“I have a feeling we’re not making it to the Elkhart County Fair,” said the general. He picked up his phone. “Let me make some calls.” At the hospital in Goshen, Indiana, I was seen right away by an emergency-room doctor. I quickly explained the situation.
“What are you saying?” the doctor asked. “You choked on a piece of candy? It wasn’t asthma at all? And you got the EpiPen in your leg?” She was trying not to laugh but she didn’t succeed. “Some people,” she said.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Can I see the box of candy?” she asked.
I took the crumpled box out of the front pocket of my sweatshirt. Only a few pieces were left. I was ready to toss them. I was pretty sure I’d never eat Lime Brains again. I had this burning lime flavor in my throat that felt like it would never go away.
“You’ve eaten these before. Correct?” the doctor asked as she skimmed the list of ingredients.
I nodded. “A million times.”
“Are these things actually any good? Green number forty-eight. I’ve never heard of that one. Of course, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t be allergic—people develop allergies at any time, at all ages, even to things they’ve been exposed to multiple times. But if you’re saying you choked, then, basically, you aspirated a Lime Brain.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“You in
haled one. I’m guessing more than one, actually. You might have a sore throat for the rest of the day, but you’re perfectly clear to leave. Just sit here for a bit and relax, drink some water. I’ll get the paperwork started for your discharge.”
The TV at the end of the bed was on, with the volume turned down low. I was getting so sick of TV, I didn’t care if we ever got cable again. If we did, I’d never watch it.
Headlines were scrolling across the bottom of the screen. CAMPAIGN DERAILED BY MEDICAL EMERGENCY … “CLARINET HERO” ON LIFE SUPPORT … CHINA’S COLD RAINBOW DENIES TALK OF CLARINET-HERO MOM … PULLING THE PLUG ON THE RAINBOW CAMPAIGN …
“I’m not dead!” I screamed at the TV.
“Glad to hear it.” The general walked into the room. “I was worried about you, kid. You went pale. real pale.”
“Yeah, well. You were probably only worried because if I died, it would hurt the campaign,” I said. “The poll numbers would drop.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “I was genuinely concerned.”
“About the poll numbers,” I said.
The general frowned at me. “For your information, I don’t think they can drop any farther than they already have. You know the term free fall?”
I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t care about the election anymore. All I cared about was the fact that everyone was attacking me and my family. And I still needed to get back at Emma for jabbing me with her EpiPen.
Suddenly, I saw a picture of my mom’s face on TV. A reporter was standing on our front doorstep! My dad opened the door, said “No comment,” and then slammed it shut again.
“No comment?” What was that supposed to mean? Shouldn’t he tell them that there was no truth at all to the story, to any of the stories? That he was going to sue them if they kept talking about our family that way?
Then my brother opened the door. He flashed his school-picture smile. “Hi. Christopher Schroeckenbauer here. No comment, but I can tell you that none of this is true. Tell Aidan I said hi.” He smiled again, then quickly closed the door.
I smiled and thought about how I’d kind of missed Christopher, even if he did have to be in the spotlight at all times. He might be the right person for his job, but I wasn’t—not anymore.
“My mom’s not a spy,” I said to the general.
“How do you know?” asked the general. “The children are always the last to know.”
I glared at him. “I just know—that’s all!” I fiddled with my hospital ID bracelet. “My mom would never do that. She isn’t that person,” I said. “I can’t believe you’re taking some reporter’s word over mine!”
“I’m not. These are just allegations,” said the general. “Innocent until proven guilty. That’s the American system.”
“She’s not guilty! This is all totally made up!” I cried.
I focused on the TV again. They were running a story about how FreezeStar was a questionable company. How the town itself was struggling to get by. I thought about Simon saying he wanted to whack that reporter for criticizing our town. I kind of felt the same way now. This attack on me and my family was like a snowball, rolling down a hill, getting bigger and bigger. I had to stop it before it crushed everyone in its path.
That’s when I knew what I needed to do.
“Your paperwork is all done. You’ve been discharged and you’re free to go,” said the doctor. I’d been so busy thinking and worrying that I hadn’t even seen her come in.
She said I had nothing to worry about, that everything checked out. Then she came to the waiting room with me, and she and Emma had a short discussion about the proper use of EpiPens. “Oh, and please tell the governor I’m voting for her!” she called as we headed for the exit with the general.
“Great, one more vote,” Emma muttered as we walked behind him.
“Is that all you can say?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. How about sorry? Sorry I stuck your leg with a sharp needle and caused you tons of pain and a racing heartbeat?” I said.
“Look, I already said I was sorry,” Emma reminded me. “How many times do you expect me to say it?”
“I don’t know. How about until my leg stops hurting?” I sighed. “You know what? Never mind. I’m not going to be around much longer.”
“Why?” she asked. “Where are you going?” She trotted after me toward the exit.
The governor was standing outside, campaigning as always, shaking hands, which didn’t seem like a good idea considering some people were heading into the emergency room and probably had the flu or something worse. She wasn’t even flinching. She really loved people. Even sick and injured ones.
“Aidan,” Emma said, still tagging after me. “What do you mean, you won’t be around much longer?”
I didn’t answer her, because as soon as we walked out of the hospital, the media swarmed around us.
“What happened, Aidan?” a reporter from CNN asked.
“Are you okay?” asked an NBC reporter.
A Fox News reporter leaned in close to me. “What do you have to say about your mother allegedly being a corporate spy?”
I blinked at the camera flashes. Even though I didn’t want to have sympathy for Emma, I was starting to understand how this would make her feel, day after day.
“Are you happy with yourselves now?” the governor asked as a dozen reporters surrounded me with their microphones. “You’ve taken a young boy and frightened him half to death with your made-up stories.”
“That’s okay, Governor. I want them near me right now. I have a statement to make,” I said. “I’m going home.”
“You can’t leave mid-campaign!” Stu called after me as I walked over to the bus. “You can’t leave right now! We have to clear your name. If we don’t clear your name, we can’t clear the governor’s name.”
“Well, I can’t clear my name without going back home,” I said. “Besides, am I really doing anything to help you guys at this point?”
“Yes, of course you are. Come on, we’ll go with you. We’ll all go back to Fairstone and clear the air,” said Stu, following me up the bus steps.
“We can’t,” said the general, who was right behind him. “We already had to pass on the county fair. Now we have got to make up time and hit Kalamazoo and Battle Creek—”
“Michigan?” I said. “We’re going to Michigan now?”
“Yes, didn’t we tell you?” Stu said. “We have a dozen events lined up tonight and tomorrow in the Detroit area—they’re too important to miss!”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just cancel.”
“We can’t cancel them, Aidan. These are fundraisers. We need funds,” said Stu. “Or there won’t be a campaign to save.”
I sat down in my seat and looked out the window, wondering how I could make this happen. Detroit was only a couple of hours by car from Fairstone, but it was definitely too far to walk.
“Let’s make a deal, Aidan.” The general tapped his fingers together. “Stick with us for two more days. We’ll do these fund-raisers. We’ll head back to Fairstone, right where this Midwestern tour got its first big push. You’ll be done.”
“Why does he get to be done?” asked Emma, slumping into the aisle seat right beside me. “When do I get to be done?”
The general ignored her question. “Listen, Aidan. We’re going to talk this over. We’ll work it out. Just give us a few minutes.”
I didn’t want to wait, but I needed time to come up with a plan. One, how was I going to get there on my own? Two, what would I do once I got there?
The grown-ups all sat in their conference area up front, and Emma leaned over to me. “What are you going to do if you leave?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Why do you care?” I asked.
“Because! Part of this is my fault,” she said.
“No kidding. And now I have to fix everything,” I said. “People th
ink my mom’s a spy; they think my clarinet playing is horrible and that I’m too old for Little League.”
I was expecting her to make a crack about my height or my clarinet playing, but she didn’t. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “But whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”
“Okay.” Emma nodded. “Well, I’ll help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” I said. “You’re the one who made all this happen in the first place! First you made me look like an idiot by pushing me across that stage. Then you switched out my clarinet music for a room-service menu. You told everyone a bunch of lies about me, then you tried to kill me with your EpiPen.”
“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” she said.
“And now there’s this rumor about my mom! I mean, how do I know that didn’t come from you?” I asked.
“Because it didn’t. You have to believe me,” she said.
“You’re not that believable,” I said. “Your track record is not very good. And all because you don’t want to live in the White House!” I said. “Why don’t you just tell your mother the truth?”
“The thing is that all these attacks on you, to try to get to my mom and ruin her life, it’s made me realize something,” Emma said. “It’s one thing if I don’t want her elected. But it’s totally different if other people get in the way of her dream. So I’m going to help her become president and not get in her way anymore.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
She nodded.
“But why do you want to help me?” I asked.
“Because I’ve been where you are,” she said. “Lots of times. And no kid wants to see her mom dragged through the mud. I know what that feels like. I’d never do that to you or wish that on anybody else.”
Something about her voice made me think she was being honest for a change. “So, what do we do?” I asked.
“Well, I know what my mom would do. She’d make a five-point plan,” said Emma. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “First things first. We start with an easy thing. You go on camera and say that you’re twelve and hold up a copy of your birth certificate.”
How Not to Run for President Page 13