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.” She shuddered.“Are you really worried about all that now?” I said.“Already? She’s only running for president; she hasn’t won yet.”“No, but if things keep going the way they are … she’ll probably write a book about me.A children’s book.Everyone will love it and be like, ‘Oh, Emma’s so cute,’ except I’m not cute, and I don’t want to be that girl.We’ll have to wear matching outfits to the inauguration; we’ll have to stand outside and freeze; we’ll have to—”“Have to what?” I asked.“Travel, see the world, have every opportunity—”“Yes, but in matching outfits!” she cried.“I think you have that wrong,” I said, trying to remember if I’d ever watched an inauguration.“You’re thinking of Christmas pictures and junk like that.”“Still!” she cried.“Isn’t that bad enough? When we met you, I figured you’d be the perfect person to ruin my mom’s chances.You were supposed to be horrible for the campaign, a downright disaster.Not make her even more popular.”I tried to think how I would feel if my mom were running for office, if she had a shot of becoming that important or that famous.I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like.“Well, I think you should try to look on the bright side,” I said.“What bright side?” Emma asked in a flat voice.“All the good things about living in Washington, D.C.!” I said.“Have you ever lived there?”“No, but—”“Well, then, how do you know?” Emma cried.“And what about moving away from all my friends? Never being able to play baseball or other sports again? Never being on a team? Never just going down the street to get an ice cream?”“It wouldn’t be ‘never,’” I said.“Just four years.”“It might be eight!” Emma said.“Look how popular my mom’s getting.By the time she leaves office, I’ll be in college.And you know who would follow me to college? Secret Service.Paparazzi.reporters.Do you have any idea how much I hate having my picture taken?”“But you’re so good at it,” I reminded her.“You always smile.”“I’m faking it.Duh.” She rolled her eyes.“Oh.Well, what about the fact this is something your mom really, really wants? Doesn’t that count?” I asked.I reached for a bottle of orange juice and unscrewed the cap.“Sure.I’m all for her being governor.Don’t get me wrong,” Emma said.“But this national stuff? I mean, would you like to spend a couple weeks of your summer campaigning on a bus?”I swallowed the juice and said, “I am spending part of my summer with the campaign.”“Well, don’t worry.You’ll be gone soon,” she said.I gulped, nearly choking on my next sip.“What’s that supposed to mean?”“You’ll screw up for real, and the same thing will happen to you that happened to me.Watch.You think you had a bad YouTube moment?” She handed me her iPhone.“Check this out.”She showed me a video of a pep rally for her mom, early in the spring.Emma was standing onstage behind the governor, not paying attention.Then she started making goofy faces at someone in the crowd.When her mom invited her up to the mike to say something, she opened her mouth and let out a loud, very disgusting burp.Her mom looked like she wanted to sink into the floor and never come out again.“Wow.A million and a half views.Talk about viral,” I said.“I know.It was awful, and Mom’s been trying to live it down ever since.I’m too much of a ‘live wire.’ They actually think I did it on purpose!” she said.“Well, did you?” I asked.“No.Well, maybe.Anyway, that’s beside the point.My dad and my brother get to be at home, but I have to be out here reforming my image.They go swimming, play baseball, go out for ice cream, hit the amusement park.But I have to go to luncheons.I finally figured out what that means.Lunch that lasts an eon,” she said.“I miss my friends.I miss my room.This whole campaign is ruining my life.”“So instead you set me up to ruin the campaign.Why don’t you do it?” I asked.“I tried, okay? And I got put in Miss Hartford’s Country Day School for Girls,” she said.“I got a whole new wardrobe of dresses and sweaters.I used to dress like you.”What was she talking about? “Like me? really?”She considered me and my outfit.“Well, no.Not that bad.”My face started to burn.“But I used to wear normal clothes, not party clothes,” Emma went on [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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