I was in a daze. Maybe if I splashed cold water in my face, I’d wake up from this bad dream. A minute later, Emma sat down beside me, changed into campaigning clothes again: dressy black pants, a purple shirt, and black sandals. Her hair was styled, too. No wonder it had taken her so long. She handed me a new box of Lime Brains. I didn’t know whether I was more stunned by the fact she was being nice to me or by the fact that I was being dragged through the mud on a half-dozen news shows. Why did all these people care about me? And did anyone care that none of it was true? Where were the people who would stick up for me? “Character assassination.” The general shook his head. “If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a thousand times. You know what they say. The bigger the target, the harder they fall.” “If he’s a big target, I’d like to see a small one,” Emma joked. I frowned at her. “This isn’t the time to be funny,” I said. “Not that that was funny.” “Why not?”
What do You think about How Not To Run For President?
