How Not to Run for President by Catherine Clark

“Presidential Falls Throughout History,” which seemed to feature a lot of President Gerald Ford (number thirty-eight). On yet another station, there was a photo of me and underneath it: brandon’s fall guy.
    â€œWow. We’ve learned something today,” said Stu, coming closer, mesmerized.
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Kristen.
    Stu turned to me. “We need Aidan. This campaign was in trouble before you showed up. You’ve got a golden touch.”
    The general frowned. “I don’t know if I’d call it golden. More like bronze. The governor’s going to end up with a broken bone if this keeps up. I’m thinking we need to establish a perimeter. You, my friend, will stand outside it.”
    â€œBut he’s effective,” said Stu.
    â€œEffective? I think you mean de fective,” Emma said under her breath, but loudly enough so I could hear her.
    Governor Brandon walked into the room, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. “So maybe we just need another way for Aidan to be involved. We didn’t invite him along to give speeches or dance across stages,” she said.
    â€œAnd now we know why,” said Emma, turning on her laptop.
    â€œHa-ha,” I said in a monotone. “Ha.”
    Emma’s mother ignored her. “So, what do you think so far?” the governor asked me. “Everything going all right for you?”
    â€œSure,” I said, nodding. “I guess.”
    â€œIs it like you expected?” She sat down in a chair opposite me.
    â€œUm … I actually didn’t know what to expect,” I admitted. “I didn’t really have time to expect anything. One minute I was playing in my marching band, and the next thing I know …”
    â€œYou got sucked into the political machine,” said Stu, nodding. “Same thing happened to me. I went to a rally in college, and it changed my life. You can really get swept away when you believe in something. Or someone.”
    I didn’t respond. That wasn’t exactly what had happened to me. My experience was more like an alien abduction than being swept away. Now I was on a foreign planet where the only things that mattered were polls and sound bites. I wasn’t Stu. I didn’t know what I believed in.
    â€œWell. Here we are.” Governor Brandon lifted a tray off the table and offered it to me. “Have an oatmeal raisin cookie?”
    â€œDon’t bother. He only eats Lime Brains,” said Emma in a disdainful tone.
    â€œWhat’s a Lime Brain?” the governor asked me.
    â€œThank you,” I said, taking a cookie off the tray.
    â€œI don’t want to know,” the general added.
    â€œSweet-and-sour gummy candy with a crunchy brain middle,” I told them.
    â€œSounds interesting,” said the governor.
    â€œSounds disgusting,” added Emma, glancing up from her laptop.
    â€œWell, why don’t you have some cookies from your peanut-free stash, Emma?” the governor asked.
    â€œNo, thanks, Mom.” Emma smiled. “I’m fine.”
    â€œSuit yourself. Listen, I had a thought earlier.” Governor Brandon set down the tray, put her feet up on the coffee table, and dropped a small cookie into her mouth. “Aidan, you know how your words really got out there, how you made an impact with people?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” I said, and in unison, Stu and the general said, “Yes.”
    â€œWe were just watching the news about that,” Stu said. “Very impressive results.”
    â€œWell, we’ve been wondering,” the governor said. “Don’t you think maybe it’s time for you to speak again?”
    â€œSpeak? You mean, in public?” Emma asked. “Him?”
    â€œWe’d like to set up some interviews. Tell me what you think. Also, I want you to play,” said the governor.
    â€œPlay?” I repeated.
    She tapped the black case on the