“When something really bad happens, it changes you forever,” Eden said quietly.
“Oh.” Milo couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He could still remember sitting in kindergarten at snack time, his two graham cracker squares set on his napkin next to his tiny carton of milk. Eden was passing out the milk cartons that day and was prissy and self-important. She had just finished and was about to sit down when her dad walked into the room. Mr. James didn’t say anything to the teacher. He just picked up Eden and left, talking to her in a gentle voice, his head bent. They had not heard her cry.
It was probably easier to forget someone else’s pain than your own. He was embarrassed that sometimes he forgot about what Eden had been through. Would it ever get to the point with Maura that things would be fine again, and he would forget about this part of their lives? He couldn’t picture it, not now. And he wasn’t even the one walking around with it all the time. Maybe he should be impressed that Maura got up in the morning. Sometimes, it was hard to be sympathetic since he didn’t know what it was that had caused Maura to change so much.
He knew that Eden was right, that what had broken Maura was not going to heal clean and straight and perfect. There were going to be scars. Even Eden, who hid them better than anyone else he knew, had them. And she couldn’t forget them, even if he could.
He wondered if every kid, every teenager, maybe even every person, had a deep reservoir inside that could fill up with loneliness if it wasn’t filled up with something else instead. Eden had taking care of the garden and her dad and campaigns and school and her friends to fill up her reservoir. Mr. James filled it up with work and taking care of his daughter. Mrs. Walsh filled it up with caring about everyone in the neighborhood and in her family. Maura filled it up with nothing, as far as he could see. He didn’t think watching television counted.
Milo had had a pretty easy life, when he thought about it, but he knew he had that reservoir too. The other night on the swing set bars, he’d been struck by how absolutely alone he’d felt at that moment, even though he had plenty of friends and stuff to do—and both his parents.
“You’re a good person, Ede.”
He had taken her by surprise. “Thanks,” she said. “Usually you tell me I’m crazy or bossy or—”
“You might be the best person I know.”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised by his sincerity. “Thanks,” she told him again.
Neither of them said anything for a few moments. The silence was surprisingly comfortable.
Chapter 16
September
Conversation in the Haventon City mall bookstore
Spencer: “Maura, is that you?”
Maura: “Hi.”
Spencer: “What are you doing here? I’m supposed to meet you guys at my house later, right? Or did I get the time wrong?”
Maura: “No, you’re right. We’re here to buy Milo some clothes for the TV interview.”
Spencer: “Is he getting nervous about it yet?”
Maura: “I don’t know. Probably.”
Spencer: “So. What kind of book are you looking for?”
Maura: “I’m not sure. Something non-fiction.”
Spencer: “You don’t like fiction?”
Maura: “I don’t like to read about stuff that didn’t really happen. I only like to read about things that are real.”
Spencer: “Have you read this one? It’s about some people who climbed Mount Everest.”
Maura: “Is it good?”
Spencer: “I really liked it.”
Maura: “Thanks.”
Spencer: “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Maura: [silence]
Spencer: “Do you want to go to dinner or something? I’d be happy to drive over to Sage. I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.”
Maura: “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Spencer: “Really? Why not?”
Maura: “I just don’t. Thanks for the book, though. I’ll see you later today.”
Spencer: “All right. You’re not mad at me for asking, though, are you?”
Maura: “No. I just don’t think it would be a good idea.”
Spencer: “Okay. Well, see you later.”
* * *
Eden wouldn’t let Milo go anywhere near the stores where he usually bought his clothes. Instead, she marched him straight to the men’s section of the biggest department store in Haventon Mall. Jack and Paige trailed along with them. Jack tried to duck away, but Milo caught him. “You can’t leave me alone with the girls,” he told Jack. “If you’re not around, who knows what they’ll talk me into wearing. Probably a suit. Maybe something worse.”
“What could be worse than a suit?” asked Jack. The most formal Jack ever got was on game days, when the football team sometimes dressed up to show team unity. He’d wear khaki pants and a polo shirt, and he’d pull at the collar all day long until it was stretched out. Jack hated shirts with any kind of a collar.
“I don’t know, but they’ll find it. Come on.” Milo steered Jack after Paige and Eden. Already, the two girls were holding a pile of dress shirts and ties.
Jack cursed under his breath as Eden and Paige began to advance on Milo. “This is going to take forever,” he grumbled.
Paige handed Milo a stack of clothes and turned him in the direction of the dressing room. “Start with these. We want to see all of them so we can help you choose.”
“And so it begins,” Milo said glumly as he took the pile of clothes into the dressing room.
As he closed the door, he could hear Jack and Eden arguing. “You’ll never catch me dressed up like that,” Jack told Eden.
“What about prom? Or your wedding? You’ll have to dress up then.”
“I already have it figured out. For prom, I’m going to wear one of those T-shirts with a tuxedo front painted on it.”
“Those are the tackiest things imaginable. No one would go to prom with you if you dressed like that.”
“Someone would,” Jack said. “Paige, you would, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Where would we go to dinner?”
“Wherever you wanted.”
“Then, yeah, I would.”
“Take that, Ms. James,” Jack told Eden. “Some people can see past a tuxedo T-shirt to things that are really important, like food.”
“So what are you going to wear to your wedding?” Eden asked him, laughing. Milo started smiling too. She had such a great laugh.
“The same. I’ll save the tuxedo T-shirt. Unless I’m even more ripped by then, which is completely possible. Then I’ll have to buy a new one.”
Milo finished buttoning up the first shirt, pulled on the jacket Eden had picked out for him, and looked at himself in the mirror. There he was, Milo J. Wright, presidential candidate. An almost-sixteen-year-old kid in a sports coat.
“Can I wear a tuxedo T-shirt on TV next week?” he called out from the dressing room.
“No,” said Eden, at the same time Jack said, “Yeah.”
“Paige?” Milo called. “You’re the tie-breaker.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to side with Eden on this one,” Paige told him.
Milo looked at himself again in the mirror. He sighed. He had a feeling there was no way he was going to be comfortable during this interview. Couldn’t they come to his house and interview him in his Write in Wright T-shirt?
* * *
“That was excruciating,” Jack said. It was an hour later and they were back in the car. Milo now owned a pair of shiny shoes, dress pants, a tie, an oxford shirt, and a jacket. He couldn’t really tell how any of this stuff was different from what he already had, except that it was all new, but Eden assured him it was al
l much more professional.
“What are you talking about?” Milo asked Jack. “You weren’t the one trying on clothes and having everyone criticize you.” Milo had hated that part. Paige’s style was funky and eclectic; Eden’s was formal and conservative; none of it felt like him. He’d finally drawn the line halfway through the pile and said they’d just have to go with what they’d liked best so far.
“I know,” Jack said. “I had it worse. I had to sit there and pretend to have an opinion while you paraded around. I wasted a whole Saturday morning on your little fashion show.”
“I didn’t try on half the stuff they gave me. Paige wanted me to try on a purple shirt.”
“I’d wear a purple shirt,” Jack said.
“I know you would, but you’re a football player. You can get away with it. I can’t wear a purple shirt on television.”
“You’re wearing a jacket, though,” Jack said, grinning. The jacket Eden had talked Milo into buying was made out of something she called “tweed.” Paige had liked it too, on account of the elbow patches.
To Milo, it was just itchy. “I look like an absentminded professor. I look like a dork.”
“You don’t look like a dork. You look—collegial. It’s perfect. It’s not as stuffy as a suit, but it shows you’re taking this seriously,” Eden told him.
“All right.” Milo surrendered. “You know I’ll wear it. I just want to complain about it first.”
“I still think we should have gone with the brown tie,” Paige said. “It matched your eyes.”
“It would have been too much brown,” Milo disagreed. On that point, he did have an opinion. He and Maura used to joke that they were all one color—brown hair, brown eyes, olive complexion that tanned easily. A couple of years ago, when Milo had caught up to Maura in height, strangers had started asking if they were twins. She’d hated that. “I’m four years older!” she would tell them. “It’s obvious.”
Milo looked over at Maura, sitting in the seat next to him. He noticed she had a plastic bag next to her with a book in it. “What’d you buy?”
“A book.”
Milo tried not to get frustrated. “What kind of book?”
She acted like she hadn’t heard. “I don’t know if I remember how to get to Spencer’s house from here.”
“That’s okay, I do,” Eden said. “Turn left going out of the mall and then right at the light . . .”
The plastic bag was faintly transparent. Out of the corner of his eye, Milo tried to see what the title was. For some reason, this seemed important to him. Was it one of the books she used to love to read, the novels by that English lady whose books all got made into sappy, romantic movies? Or was it something else?
He couldn’t tell. She kept driving, looking straight ahead.
Maura pulled the car into the driveway of Spencer’s house. Everyone opened their doors, except for her.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Milo asked Maura.
Maura hesitated, looking like she would rather not, but then she nodded and opened her door. Inside the house, she dropped into the chair Spencer pulled out for her without looking up at him. Milo wanted to tell her to be polite, but he didn’t. She reached into her bag and pulled out the book she’d purchased. Milo craned his neck, but he couldn’t tell what it was from his end of the table.
“Are you ready for your briefing on the latest project?” Spencer asked. “The results are kind of interesting.”
Their latest project was a big one, and it was something that was going to come in handy for Milo’s television appearance. Teenagers under eighteen had been submitting their opinions online on a variety of issues. Spencer had compiled the answers and gotten some statistics and Milo wanted to go over them before the interview. Spencer handed around a packet of information to everyone. Maura set down her book to take hers and flip through it.
“Go for it,” Milo said. “We’re ready.”
“So predictably, people have different opinions on different issues. I mean, why would we expect teenagers to be any different than anyone else? But there are a few questions where we have 80% or higher consensus.” He looked at Milo and smiled. “And guess what? They felt strongly about the same things you do.”
“Trying to make a difference?” Milo asked.
“The environment?” Eden added.
“Yup, both of those. Plus, they don’t like standardized testing at all.”
“I don’t either,” Milo said. “Let’s definitely add that to the platform.”
“There’s also consensus on questions like being able to take iPods to school, not having school uniforms—questions I put in there for fun. But let me give you the stats on the big issues. Look at the first page of the packet.” Spencer started reading:
“Item one. An eighty-nine percent majority wants a reduction in standardized testing and thinks there has to be a better way to assess the educational system and the students.
“Item two. Eighty percent of respondents are worried about the environment and want to get involved but feel helpless.
“Item three. A very strong majority—ninety-one percent—of respondents would like to make America and the world a better place and would like to see you include some ways of doing that as part of your platform.”
Spencer paused. “And then the other consensus items, like the almost unanimous ‘no’ on school uniforms and ‘yes’ on letting teenagers put together their own educational/curriculum plan, could be great topics for conversation in your interview too.”
“That’s a pretty good platform,” Milo said.
“Now all we have to do is figure out how to apply those stats and come up with good ways to address the issues. You know, concrete plans for action and stuff,” Eden said.
She and Milo looked at each other and started to laugh. That was going to be a ton of work.
“This is amazing work, Spencer,” Eden told him.
“It has its glitches,” Spencer said. “I mean, it can’t be that official, since we don’t know if everyone who responded is a teenager. Also, the kids who are using the Internet and who are involved in politics are usually a little more worried about community and involved in social issues than those who aren’t. The numbers could be skewed wrong.”
“Still, this is awesome,” Eden said.
“No kidding,” Milo agreed. “Thanks for putting this all together, Spencer. It’ll be great to be able to bring up this information in the interview.”
“No problem. It wasn’t that hard to do, once I had all the data in.”
Milo leafed through the pages again. The website was generating more than half a million hits a day, something he hadn’t known until now. “The website is getting a ton of hits.”
“Yeah,” Spencer said. “Luckily, I planned for it to be pretty successful, so we’ve been able to handle the traffic so far. But we’re probably going to have to do something about that soon, too. Especially if you’re going on national television—our traffic is going to go way up. Do we have any money left?”
Milo looked at Paige, the official treasurer. “We have some,” she said. “Hopefully Milo will get some more donations after he’s been on TV.”
“We can talk about that later, then,” Spencer said. “Also, I have some ideas for new signs out in the garage. I want you guys to take a look at them and pick which ones you like best.”
“Spencer, you’re awesome,” Eden said. “How are you making time for all of this?”
“It’s actually working out pretty well. The teachers in my graphic design program are letting me use the campaign as part of my semester project. In fact, this one was a group project for designing a logo, so there were a few of us thinking about it.” He grinned at Milo. “Still, I wouldn’t mind a raise if this interview generates all kinds of donations.”
&
nbsp; “We’ll definitely give you one if we can,” Milo told him.
They all stood up and followed Spencer into the garage to look at the signs. Even Maura came. When they arrived in the doorway, Milo whistled.
The signs were perfect. Spencer had outdone himself. With the limited palette of red, white, and blue, he had managed to make them stand out, but still look professional and presidential. There were three that they all agreed were the best: A Wright/James sign with a little American flag in between their names; a Write in Wright sign with a pen that looked like something the signers of the Declaration of Independence would have used; and a Freshman for President sign that Milo had to admit was pretty good, even though he had to protest on principle.
“Do we have to use that one?” he protested. “It still drives me crazy. It’s not even accurate. I’m a sophomore now.”
“It’s catchy,” Spencer and Eden said at the same time.
“And it’s what they’ve started calling you in the press,” Eden added. “I think we should run with it. There are lots of high schools that don’t start until tenth grade anyway.”
“Fine.” Milo still wished they could make him seem as old as possible, rather than as young as possible.
Eden looked at her watch. “We should probably head home. We’ve still got a lot to do to get Milo ready for the interview.”
“Seriously, dude, you have no idea,” Jack told Spencer. “This guy wanted to wear a tuxedo T-shirt on national television. Can you believe him?”
* * *
As they drove back toward Sage, Milo flipped through the packet of information Spencer had given him. The bag with his fancy new clothes inside rustled at his feet when he shifted position. He was starting to get nervous about the interview.
“I’m getting worried about this,” he told his friends.
“It will go fine,” Jack said. “Just don’t soil yourself on national television, and you should be okay. And don’t say ‘Um.’ And don’t tell the lady doing the interview that she looks hot. And—”