How Not to Run for President

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Authors: Catherine Clark
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testing you, obviously.”
    â€œObviously,” I repeated. “Yeah, right. I’m sure.” There wasn’t much to like about her, but then, who else was I going to talk to? I couldn’t sit there and talk politics for hours. I couldn’t even talk politics for five minutes.
    â€œSo, do you always travel with your mom?” I asked. “I mean, where do you live when you don’t live on the bus?”
    She didn’t say anything for a second. She just stared at me, as if I were the dumbest ape on the planet. “Don’t you know?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “If I knew, why would I ask?”
    She rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
    â€œI’m not serious,” I said. “I’m Aidan.”
    â€œHa-ha. So funny,” she said. “I can’t believe you don’t know.”
    I shrugged. “Well, I don’t. Do you know where I’m from?”
    â€œObviously. We just stopped there. Freestone,” she said.
    â€œHa! Wrong,” I said. “Fairstone.”
    â€œSame difference,” she said.
    â€œIt is not!” I said.
    â€œExcuse me, but you’re a nobody. My mom’s the governor of Minnesota, so obviously, I live in Minnesota.” She pronounced “sota” like “soda.”
    â€œSo, you live in Minneapolis?” I asked.
    She sighed, as if that was the dumbest thing she’d heard all day. “Saint Paul,” she said. “That’s the capital. Which is where the governor lives. Obviously . In the governor’s mansion.”
    â€œWhatever,” I said. Was she going to use the word obviously in every sentence? “So what’s Saint Paul famous for?” I asked.
    â€œLots of things.” She sniffed. “Tons of things.”
    I waited for her to give an example. “It’s so famous you can’t think of anything?” I asked.
    â€œI can, too!” she said. “The Mississippi river.”
    â€œThat’s more of a claim to fame for Mississippi, isn’t it? Or else it’d be called the Saint Paul river,” I said.
    She frowned at me. “It starts in Minnesota. Everybody knows that. It comes from Lake Itasca.”
    â€œOh. Well, we have Lake Erie,” I said.
    â€œWe have Lake Superior,” she replied. “It’s the biggest of the Great Lakes.”
    â€œI know that,” I said. Humph. Did she have to have the greatest of the Great Lakes? “Okay, so you have lots of water. Anything else? Besides freezing-cold weather?”
    â€œThere’s tons more. Winter Carnival, awesome skiing and snowmobiling, the state fair every August, which I have to get back home in time for, plus the Twins, the Vikings, the Wild—we’re known as the state of hockey, did you know that? And what about Paul Bunyan? Heard of him?”
    â€œHe wasn’t a real person,” I said.
    â€œOkay, you want real? Joe Mauer. How about that? Is he real enough for you?” she asked.
    â€œSo he won the batting title a few times,” I said. “I’ll give you that.”
    â€œI’m so jealous. My dad and brother, William, are going to the game tonight. They get to be home,” she complained. “My dad works for 3M, and he can’t leave because he’s in the middle of developing a new kind of recycled Scotch tape, and my brother’s on this really intense soccer team all summer.” She sighed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
    â€œRecycled tape?” I said.
    She frowned at me. “Soccer club.”
    â€œYou play soccer, too?” I asked.
    â€œWell, no. But I’d learn,” she said.
    â€œWhat made your mom want to run for president?” I asked.
    â€œShe likes helping people,” said Emma. “She got really frustrated during the last couple of elections. She felt like no matter what was changing for women and families, too much was staying the same. She

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