The iCongressman by Mikael Carlson Page A

most successful
congressional campaign in the history of the country,” Amanda continues, still
trying to stifle her grin.
    “News flash, Chels, in case you didn’t notice, you’re the
also youngest chief of staff in the history of Congress. There are literally
hundreds of people around the country trying to replicate what you did. Really,
what more do you think you need to prove?”
    “None of that means I’m getting the job done in Washington,
Brian.”
    “Has Mister B said anything to you about it?” Xavier asks. I
shake my head no, my flash of anger now subsiding. “I didn’t think so. I’ll bet
he thinks you’re doing a great job under the circumstances.”
    “I doubt it. He’s been too busy trying to get kicked out of
Congress to notice,” I smile weakly. It’s a start. I haven’t had a reason to
for a long while.
    “Looks like neither of you have hit your stride yet,” Brian
says with hints of optimism that makes me feel a little better than I did a few
minutes ago. I look at Xavier who seems to be relishing this opportunity to
work with us again.
    “And we’re now here to help change that.”

 
    * * *

 
    Dorothy had it right in The Wizard of Oz —there is no place like home. Most high school kids
can’t wait to leave home and either head out into the world, or at a minimum,
cut the parental strings at college. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t one of
them. But after a year inside the Beltway, the colloquial name for Washington,
D.C., I miss the comfort and familiarity of home more than ever.
    I pull into the driveway and kill the headlights on my aging
car. My senior year, I was ashamed to have to park it next to a Range Rover and
BMW every day during high school and thought that would change once I left. I
was wrong. If anything, it’s worse on the occasions I drive to work given the
flashy cars most politicians and the senior staff drive.
    Dad greets me at the door and gives me a huge hug before I
can even make it into the kitchen. “Hi, Snuggle Bear. I’ve missed you so much.”
    “It’s only been a couple of weeks, Dad,” I say, probably
sounding way more insincere than I meant to be. “I missed you too,” I utter
before he gets the wrong idea.
    I come in and drop my stuff on the chair that once housed
piles of college literature. Most colleges don’t bother sending out volumes of
brochures to prospective students anymore. Everything is done electronically
over e-mail and the Internet. My case was a little different once our first
campaign got rolling, and schools were going above and beyond to get me and the
campaign crew to listen to their admissions pitch.
    “How’s work? You look a little rough around the edges.”
    “It’s okay,” I mumble, hoping that wasn’t meant like my
emotional redhead self tends to take things.
    “Only okay? You know, when you started this job, even when
things were bad, they were never just ‘okay.’ Please tell me you aren’t
becoming jaded at twenty years old.”
    “No, I’m not jaded,” I say, lying a little. “The job can
wear you out at times, that’s all. I’ll be better
after the weekend.” Okay, I lied a lot.
    Dad knows I’m down, but he also knows I won’t talk about it
until I’m ready. You can count on Bruce Stanton for two things in this
world—showing up to his shift at the factory every day for work and being in my
corner. He’s taken on the press in our front yard and even got into a fight
with Mister Bennit in our living room. He only replaced that broken end table a
few months ago.
    “Would ya tell me if you were?” he
says with a wink. He knows me too well.
    “How’s work treating you?” I ask, changing the subject away
from anything to do with my chosen career.
    “Work’s fine, same ol ’ same ol ’. Not that I’m not thrilled to see ya ,
but what brings all you guys up here?” Dad asks, bringing the conversation back
full circle. You’d think working for a politician in a town full of