How Not to Run for President by Catherine Clark Page A

table. “Clarinet, what else? Emma, if you want, we can work in the flute. Make this a trio,” said her mother.
    â€œOh, no, not on your life,” Emma said under her breath.
    â€œWhat’s that?” her mother asked.
    â€œI was just—it’s just that, um, your duet will be better without me.” Emma smiled. Why did I get the feeling she was up to something?
    â€œWhere exactly would this performance be?” I asked. “At a campaign rally, like today?”
    The governor and Stu exchanged awkward glances, as if there was something they didn’t want me to know. “Sort of,” Stu said.
    I didn’t like the sound of that. “What does ‘sort of’ mean?” I asked.
    â€œIt would actually be on TV,” Stu explained. “Bettina’s rolling out her education platform tomorrow, which includes restoring funding for music and other arts. We’ve gotten her a spot on Wake Up, America! She’ll be talking about the importance of music education, about how schools are being forced to cut programs and how wrong that is for our future.”
    That was pretty much what Mort had said. If her issues were Mort’s issues, playing clarinet with her would be okay, right?
    â€œShe wants to back up her passion for music with some physical evidence. Namely, you,” Stu said.
    â€œOh,” I said.
    â€œGo figure,” said the general.
    I knew that’s why they’d asked me to come along. They were only asking me to do what I’d agreed to. So why was I nervous?
    â€œWe’ll practice together, right now,” Governor Brandon said. “If things go well, we can play a duet. If not, there could be a brief, patriotic solo. What do you say, Aidan?”
    I looked at Emma. I didn’t want to play in front of her. She would mock me; I just knew it. “Uh, is there anywhere we could play that’s kind of, you know, more soundproof?” I asked. “Someplace where we wouldn’t disturb anyone?”
    â€œYeah.” Emma cracked her gum. “That’s what I was thinking.”
    â€œThese walls are ironclad. I’m not allowed to stay anywhere that isn’t practically a concrete bunker,” said the governor with a laugh. “No worries.”
    â€œActually, it’s more of a, um, focus thing,” I said. As in, focus on not being humiliated by Emma. This wasn’t good. If I couldn’t handle her as an audience, how was I going to deal with however many millions would be watching Wake Up, America! ?
    Kristen turned off the iron and pushed the ironing board out of the way. “Fine, we’ll give you privacy. Come on, Emma—let’s hit the pool.”
    â€œYes!” Emma jumped up. I’d never seen her move so fast. She’d changed into her swimsuit, and was out the door with Kristen and a Secret Service agent in about two minutes.
    Great. She got to go swimming, while I was stuck inside rehearsing with someone who hadn’t played the clarinet in forty thousand years. So we could both embarrass ourselves on live TV. That was why Emma had muttered, “Not on your life!”
    â€œI’m headed to the conference room to work on the next speech,” Stu announced. “I need to streamline some talking points. You coming?” he asked the general.
    â€œI’m staying put. I’ve got to get to the root of this kid’s appeal,” he said as if it made absolutely no sense to him.
    After seeing those videos, I kind of had to agree. Although I had sounded cool at the mike. Maybe was a natural-born public speaker. Everyone has a gift. Maybe mine wasn’t clarinet or playing shortstop, the way I’d thought. Maybe it was—
    No. That was too boring. I wasn’t going through life like these people.
    I went into my room and came back with my clarinet. The general took one look at me and pulled a pair of noise-canceling headphones out of his briefcase. He