How Not to Run for President by Catherine Clark

Author:Catherine Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: eBook ISBN| 9781606843024
Publisher: EgmontUSA

What felt like a few minutes later, someone was shaking my arm. really strongly. “Aidan! Wake up, wake up!” a voice was saying.

I struggled to open my eyes, but I was so tired.

“What are you even doing down here? We looked everywhere for you. Oh, you kids are going to be the death of me!” Kristen cried.

“Kids? Plural? I didn’t do anything,” said Emma, who was beside Kristen.

Kristen began shaking my shoulders. “Aidan, get up. Why are you here and not in your room? You’re not allowed to sneak out and sleep in the lobby!”

“Who won?” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked up to see the entire campaign staff standing over me. Emma was dressed for the day, and behind her stood her mother, all ready for our Wake Up, America! interview.

Meanwhile, I was wearing my ratty old sweatshirt, shorts, and flip-flops, and hugging my clarinet case to my chest like it was a teddy bear. And I was in public! Except it was the middle of the night, and it was still dark outside. I glanced at the clock above the lobby fireplace. 5:45 a.m. How did it get so early so quickly? Wasn’t it just midnight? I glanced over at the front desk, where Chuck was still working.

“You were just here. We were watching the Indians-Twins game,” I said to Emma. “Why didn’t you wake me up when it was over?”

Emma ignored me. She looked around the lobby. “What’s the deal with the breakfast? When does that start? I’m starving.”

“Emma, you were right here. It was the twelfth inning,” I said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Emma. “I wasn’t here.”

“Yes, you were.” I sat up. “You were right here, and Chuck was over there, and we had popcorn—”

“I was in my room the whole night,” she said, shooting daggers at me. Then I remembered: she really wasn’t allowed out at night. Still, I would have liked to have had a partner in crime. Then maybe I wouldn’t look so bad.

“You must have been dreaming, kid,” said the general. “Come on, I’ll follow you back upstairs and wait while you get dressed. You have five minutes.” He strode over to the elevator and pressed the up button. “Of course, with your wardrobe, that’s more than enough time.”

I yawned and stretched my arms, still holding the clarinet. Who even got up at five in the morning? The only other person I could think of who’d be awake was my dad, at work. I suddenly missed him and wished I could call him. He’d know what to say to make me calm down. He’d say, “Whatever happens, it’ll be over soon. One way or another.”

That was what he said whenever I had to go to the dentist, and it seemed like this TV show could be about as unpleasant.

“FYI, the Twins won it in fourteen,” the general said. “Indians had a chance to win, but that new closer—what’s his name?”

“Hayashi?” I said.

“Right. He gave up a three-run homer in the bottom of the fourteenth inning,” the general told me.

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