“Vince, I don’t condone underage drinking or drug use, but do you think you’re the only teenager to have ever gotten busted for chugging a six-pack or rolling a joint? The more important question is, did you learn a lesson from it? I mean, other than doing better at not getting caught?”
“Yes,” Vince responds, his voice perking up.
“And you know I hate cheating with a burning passion, Peyton, but it happens all the time in school. You got caught and paid the price. Have you cheated since?”
“No.”
“Brian, assuming their allegation is even true, if they really want to go after you for downloading illegal music, then we’d better all hope they don’t check my iPod.”
Being a common sense teacher is one thing I always loved about Mister Bennit. He will never condone illegal or unethical behavior like drinking, drugs, and cheating, but he’s a realist. He’s more concerned about the welfare of his students than living under the delusion that nothing is going on. He tries to warn about the consequences of bad behavior and help us to avoid making dumb mistakes. When he fails, the most important thing to him is we learn from our error and never repeat it.
“You made mistakes. Big friggin’ deal, everyone does. You paid the price and learned the lesson. I stand by you, and that’s precisely what I told Superintendent Freeman in her office a couple of hours ago.”
Kylie raises her eyebrows in surprise. I guess she didn’t know about that any more than we did. He went to the mat fighting for Vince, Peyton, and Brian. How many teachers are willing to do that these days? As much as I like the other teachers in school, I can’t think of one.
“Guys, if this is all Beaumont can come up with, he’s proving himself to be a bigger joke than people thought. Every voter watching the news will remember the stupid stuff they did in high school, so I’m not worried about the effect on the campaign. The big mistake here is thinking for a second I am letting that blowhard drive you off my staff because you made mistakes. Understood?”
We all nod in agreement.
“Okay, Mister B, so do you have a plan?” Amanda asks innocently.
“I have a feeling we wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Vanessa observes. I couldn’t agree more.
“You guys had your fun in the spotlight, now it’s my turn. Winston Beaumont wants a brawl, so we’re going to take the fight to him.”
“We’re going negative?” Vince asks, almost excited at the prospect.
“No, sorry to disappoint you but mudslinging isn’t my style. We’re going to start telling the district why they should be voting for me. Two weeks from now at the debate, they’re going to see it for themselves.”
“Seriously? C’mon, that’s not going to happen. Neither side wants us anywhere near that auditorium,” Xavier says.
“Then we need to convince them otherwise,” Emilee states, with as much conviction I ever heard come from her.
“How exactly do we do that? We asked to get in and they laughed at us.”
“I asked a month ago when we first announced, Brian. I wouldn’t have taken me seriously either, but things have changed a lot since then,” I argue, now understanding the course of action Mister Bennit wants to take. “Besides, we didn’t really care at the time.”
“That’s because he’s the iCandidate, Chels. We lose the image the moment he sets foot on stage.” Brian makes a good point, one that I don’t have an answer to. I look toward our fearless leader, but he is content to let us figure it out.
“I don’t agree, Bri,” Vanessa argues. “Television is every bit as digital as the Internet. I don’t think that’s the problem. Someone tell me how the debate does anything to fix our current problem?”
“Vanessa, can you think of anything more news worthy than the first-ever public appearance of country’s most intriguing candidate? Talk about must-see TV,” Amanda says.
“Okay, now I see where you’re going with this,” Xavier pronounces, the light bulb clicking on in his head. “What will the man who never talks about issues finally say when questioned on them?”
“You got it. The media will go nuts speculating,” Emilee says with a twinkle in her eye.
“And forget about our mistakes in the process,” Peyton adds, now feeling like part of the team again.
“But how do we fight our way in?”
“We don’t, Amanda, we get Beaumont to do it for us.”
“Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m lost again. Anyone with me?” Peyton offers, getting agreement amongst most of my peers.
Mister Bennit knows exactly where I am going with this, giving me a nod of approval. It’s kind of fun being on the same wavelength as him. I only wish it happened more often.
“He’s the one keeping us out, Chelsea,” Vanessa points out.
“He is right now, but with that ginormous ego, do you think for one second he’ll let people to think he’s scared of us?”
“Not a chance,” Kylie says, a big smile on her face.
“So let’s give him a chance to prove it.”
“But Chels, people don’t think he’s scared of us,” Vanessa states.
“Not yet. Kylie, if I leak something to the press can you make sure they pick it up?” I ask mischievously.
“Gladly.”
.
-THIRTY-EIGHT-
BLAKE
“I think their position is crystal clear. As was reported widely this week, they don't want to be in the debate,” the pundit says from his side of the table.
The only thing worse than enduring these evening political shows Roger insists on recording is watching them on live television. Our late night gaggle means I’m working in the office far later than I want to. Not unheard of for a campaign season, but considering this was supposed to be an easy one, it‘s a little hard to swallow.
Being back in the congressman’s district should feel awesome. I love politics, so I love election years by extension. There is just something enchanting about convincing people to go to the polls and vote the way you want them to. But I was born to be a player in D.C. and was looking to staying in the nation’s capital while Beaumont marched into another term. That was how it felt six months ago when we were laughing at Dick Johnson and the Republicans.
Then Michael Bennit came along with his rag-tag posse of overachievers and turned everything upside down. His laughable social media blitz went from an annoyance to a serious threat thanks to Kylie Roberts. Despite the name calling in the office, no one is laughing at Bennit and his staff anymore.
“Of course they don't want to debate, there’s no need. Bennit is trouncing the Republican candidate and moves closer to Winston Beaumont in every poll,” another analyst on television responds.
Congressman Beaumont grumbles something under his breath. I didn’t hear exactly what, but it probably wasn’t flattering.
The first pundit dismisses him with a gesture. “He needs to be in the debate to be taken seriously. He realizes the importance of sharing the stage with the other candidates. Don't you think for a second that this might just be reverse psychology?”
“Reverse psychology? Are you serious? Why bother? He’s practically winning the race while spending no money and not talking about any issues. We can sit here and scratch our heads over why all day, but the strategy is working. His grand ideas about the political process are capturing people’s attention, so why take the chance of flopping under the lights a week before the election at a debate you don’t need to be in?
“Which is exactly why Beaumont should be pushing to include him in the debate,” the only female on the panel says from the end of the table. “Winston Beaumont runs ads on TV non-stop, saying there’s no substance to Michael Bennit. Yet they don’t want him on that stage. His words are hollow if he excludes him. With all the resistance coming from both the Republicans and Democrats, you can only wonder if they are scared to debate the iCandidate.”
It took a nanosecond to realize the line was planted. It has Madison’s sister’s fingerp
rints all over it. I don’t know how Kylie put this idea in the collective heads of the press corps, but she did. We have seriously underestimated the amount of people she knows, and the damage she can do.
“Scared? I'll show them who should be scared!” Winston shouts out with exactly the kind of unhelpful emotional response we feared.
“Sir, I –”
“Roger, get on the phone with the debate organizers and insist Bennit be included. Do whatever it takes to get him on the stage!”
“Calm down, Winston, and let’s think this through,” Roger says, trying to get some objectivity inserted into the conversation. Congressman Beaumont looks less than pleased, but simply folds his arms across his chest and waits. “Blake, what happened to the story about the kids?”
“It had an impact, but lacked staying power. We stopped the bleeding, but didn’t win anyone back to our side. It simply didn’t take up enough news cycles.”
“Why not, Blake?”
“They got their response out and it made sense. They said they don’t condone the behavior, but implored people to think back to their teenage years and tell them they didn’t do something worse. The accusations didn’t exactly have the juice the Swift Boaters had against Kerry. The mainstream media moved off the topic pretty quick.”
The whole idea of going after the students was dumb. I thought so the moment Roger asked me to do it, and should have said something at the time. We were better off drumming up some more parental discontent in the district than going on the offensive against high school kids. Any strategy I came up with would have worked better than this one did.
“That doesn’t explain why CNN is calling me ‘scared’ every half hour,” Winston barks.
“They probably began planting the debate conversation right after the press ran with the stuff about his staff. It didn’t go anywhere while they covered that story, but after they lost interest in the kids, it was the next topic on deck.”
“How?” the congressman demands. I look over to Madison who glares back at me. We haven’t spoken more than a few sentences to each other since the day she got run out of the office. I suppose we won’t be anytime soon.
“You should ask Madison.”
“My sister had nothing to do with this!” she exclaims, furious at me. “She didn’t even write an article about the debate!”
“Her fingerprints are all over this, Madison,” I say calmly. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but she didn’t have to print anything. She just had to make sure everyone else did.”
“Well, if you think Kylie and Bennit are behind this, then we are playing right into their hands.” Madison is right, not that I’m going to agree with her. Congressman Beaumont has made up his mind. He is frustrated and wants to exact his pound of flesh on someone. Better Bennit than I.
“So be it. I am done playing games with this guy.”
“Sir, we kept him out of the debate because it legitimizes him. That’s still true,” Madison implores out of desperation.
“The situation has changed, in case you didn’t notice, Madison,” I say with a hint of contrived contempt. “We’re tied in the polls. He is legitimate now.”
“Blake is right,” the congressman decides. “Whether they are trying to trick us or not is irrelevant. He wants to debate, let’s have at it. I will crush this upstart once and for all.”
“Sir, we should really—”
“The matter is decided, Madison. Blake, make the call and get a third podium added to the stage. Do it right now,” Roger commands.
“Yes, sir,” I tell him before heading out of the office. As I close the door, the congressman begins tearing apart Madison. The only thing he hates more than campaigning is losing, and now he’s doing both. Since Madison has been up here running the show, she’s the scapegoat du jour.
You really have to hand it to Bennit. We’re getting hoodwinked, a fact Madison was both smart enough to realize and courageous enough to speak up about. Or dumb enough, depending on your perspective. Either way, they got what they wanted.
I also got what I wanted. Using unsavory tactics to take down political opponents doesn’t cause me to lose sleep, but attacking teenagers just because they are media darlings feels … I don’t know … not right. We never should have been put in a position requiring Bennit to be included in this debate, but at least we are now focusing on taking him down. That’s what the campaign for an eight-term incumbent in Congress should be doing.
“Well played, Bennit, well played,” I mumble to myself.
.
-THIRTY-NINE-
KYLIE
The life of a journalist often means healthy meals are sacrificed for the expediency fast food offers. When you’re unemployed, it’s also a cost-effective way to fill your stomach. I try to avoid burger joints, but there are also only so many Subway sandwiches a person can eat. Dying for a different menu to select from, I decided to stop at a quaint deli in the center of Millfield not far from the high school.
My order placed, I sip a Diet Coke at the end of the long, glass case full of deli meats. The television in the corner is tuned in to ESPN, and not one of the nation’s cable news networks. It may be the only TV in Millfield that isn’t. I hear the bells on the door ring, but don’t bother turning around to see who walked in, at least until I hear her voice.
“Can I get a veggie wrap to go, please?” Jessica Slater asks the clerk behind the desk sweetly.
Dressed in a sharp navy blue outfit and heels, she looks like she stepped right out of an issue of Fashion Week. Wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, I look like I just left a football tailgate party. Of all the days.
“Hi. Kaylee, right?” she asks as she walks over to me.
“Kylie,” I respond. As if she didn’t know that.
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry. How’s the life of an unemployed journalist these days?” she says with a fake smile that makes me want to knock her ultra-white teeth out.
“Not as exciting teaching English, I’m sure,” I reply, trying to walk a fine line. Under normal circumstances, I would tell this tart where to go. Unfortunately, she is Michael’s fiancée, and I need to be as polite as I can. There is already enough stress in their relationship, and I don’t want to be perceived as adding to it.
“It’s not so exciting,” she says with a laugh. “The hardest part is keeping kids focused on academics instead of their extracurricular activities. Some of them think trivial pursuits are more important than school is. You’ve seen that first hand I think, haven’t you?” Apparently, Jessica Slater is not a big believer in the value of life experiences.
“From what I understand, Michael’s staff is managing just fine. Chelsea showed me her progress report and I thought it was pretty good.”
“I’m sure it was. He didn’t bother sharing that information with me,” she responds, clearly agitated at that information. “But you spend a lot of time with him, so of course you would know more about it then I would.”
“I am privileged to spend as much time as I do with him and the staff,” I reply, using a little verbal ju-jitsu. I don’t appreciate the implication she is making, and I exercise some serious willpower not to say so.
“I’m sure they feel the same. Your work for the campaign has been invaluable to Michael. It looks like he will be getting into the debate because of your idea to appeal to Beaumont’s ego.”
“The idea was Chelsea’s, actually,” I say truthfully. “I just gave her some guidance on how to execute it.”
“Of course, that’s what I meant.” Yeah, sure it was.
People like Jessica Slater are the reason I despised high school. I was a bookworm, with few friends and even fewer boyfriends. She is the equivalent of the beautiful, smart, captain of the cheerleading team that every girl wanted to be and every boy wanted to date. Or at least sleep with.
I hope she is only being this shallow because she feels somehow threatened by me. I have had a crush on Michael since the moment he climbed in my parked
car to hide from the media, but if this is the type of girl he goes for…
“You know, I don’t know much about journalism, but I didn’t think doing favors like that was in the scope of covering a campaign. You must be finding it so difficult to be objective being so close to them.” Oh my God! How does he deal with this woman?
“I manage,” is all I can say, fighting to repress my anger. I glance over to the man behind the counter who is pretending not to pay attention. He is trying to be polite, but like most men, the specter witnessing a catfight is irresistible. Despite my reservations of having it out with the diva in front of me, he is getting close to getting his wish. “Well, I know this campaign is hard on everyone. Parents are upset, the school administration is angry, and I’ve even heard there is a rift between Chelsea and her dad. That’s too bad, they were so close.”
“And they still are. People who care about each other find common ground when they disagree on things,” I say, smugly. There, she deserved that. I finally wiped the fake smile off her face. Nice to see little miss innuendo didn’t miss it coming back at her.
“Here’s your Reuben,” the clerk behind the counter says before she can respond. I thank him, more for the interruption than the sandwich.
“Oh, a Reuben. That sounds good! I’d love to order that, but I don’t want all the calories. I like to eat healthy and watch my figure,” she says, giving me a quick once over with her eyes. Ok, now I hate this bitch.
I was gifted with a fast metabolism, one of the few things I inherited from my mother that I appreciate. While I don’t have Jessica’s sexy hour glass figure, I still have my slender build and athletic tone, even after a couple of months without a good workout.
The iCandidate Page 18
