“Yeah,” Milo admitted. “We’re going to try to get into the debate in Phoenix. I’ll be fine by Friday, right?”
“Probably. If you take it really easy until then and don’t do anything stupid. Like joyriding in airplanes.” The nurse smiled at him and left.
“I still feel really bad about that,” Eden said after a second. “I made you ride in an airplane when your appendix was about to burst.”
“You had no idea that was going to happen. Who knew my appendix was about to sign off? I’m not mad.”
“Thanks.”
Milo reached for his water. “I’ve been thinking about the debate all morning. I can’t wait.”
Eden smiled at him. “Are you starting to want to do this again?”
“What do you mean? The campaign?”
“Yeah. I know it’s been a bad week for you, and I don’t just mean all of this.” She gestured at the hospital room. “My dad told me about the letters.” She paused. “He told me there was one for me, too. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Stupid, huh?”
“Yeah. And then you got sick on top of it. I tried to think of something that would help. All I could come up with was this. Your surprise.” She went over to get the overstuffed manila envelope she’d left by the door.
Milo suddenly had a horrible suspicion he knew what it was. “You’re going to make me stuff packets on my deathbed?” he complained.
“No,” Eden said with exasperation. “I printed off some of the positive e-mails we’ve gotten regarding the campaign. Do you know how many there are?”
“No.”
“A lot,” Eden said, grinning. “I didn’t actually count. Reading through them made me feel pretty good, so I thought you might like to read them too. There’s a lot more good letters than bad ones.” She gently set the envelope on his tray table.
“Thanks.”
Eden stood up. She suddenly seemed in a hurry to leave. “I should probably get home, but Jack and Paige and I are going to come back after dinner, if that’s okay. Can we bring you a shake or anything from the drugstore?”
“That would be awesome. Do you guys have the pumpkin pie ice cream in yet?”
“Of course. It’s October. Do you want a pumpkin pie shake?”
“Yeah, that would be great. And can you squirt some caramel in there too?”
Eden laughed. “Are you sure that’s on your approved post-surgery diet?”
“They said it was okay. According to my mom, ice cream was the first thing I asked for when I started waking up.”
“You have a serious addiction.” Eden patted his arm. “I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks, Eden,” he said.
She hesitated, glancing briefly at the envelope, and then closed the door.
Milo heard her footsteps as she walked down the hall. He grabbed the envelope she’d brought him and reached inside, pulling out a crumple of paper. There were so many pieces of paper crammed inside that some of them weren’t in great shape.
He straightened the first letter and started reading. Then he read another, and another. He didn’t notice when a piece of paper slipped to the floor and landed between the trash can and the bed.
Milo kept reading the e-mails until his eyes started to close. Sleep didn’t take long at all, once he gave in. It had been quite a week. He dreamed he was riding in an airplane with Maura. “I have something to tell you,” she said. But when he tried to listen, the plane was too loud, and he couldn’t hear anything she said.
Chapter 22
October
Get well note from Eden James to Milo J. Wright
Which was:
1. accidentally dropped by Milo Wright without knowing it,
2. swept up by the hospital’s janitorial staff after Milo’s discharge from the hospital the next day, and
3. thrown away, unread.
Dear Milo,
I’m really sorry about your appendix. Riding with you in the ambulance was really scary and I kept thinking about how it all might be my fault for making you go on the airplane ride. I was so glad when you called this morning and didn’t seem mad at all.
I’m pretty sure you don’t know that you did this, but while we were in the ambulance you held my hand, and you wouldn’t let go.
I hope when the campaign is over, or maybe even before then, we can talk.
At the bottom of the page, she had drawn a rose and colored it red.
* * *
Six days after Milo’s appendix had departed from his body, he stood on top of a yellow school bus in a Phoenix parking lot. Jack, Eden, and Paige were standing there with him.
“Impressive,” said Jack.
They were looking out at two hundred and eighty-one Sage High students, fourteen chaperones, and five yellow buses. They were looking at Write in Wright banners and T-shirts and buttons. They were looking at dozens of red, white, and blue balloons mixed in with orange and black ones (for Sage High). They were looking at a podium where, eventually, Milo would give a speech. The sounds of music and laughter filled the air, along with the carnival smells of hot dogs and cotton candy. Spencer had borrowed the baseball team’s cotton candy machine; people had brought small charcoal grills.
The cheerleaders were all there in their orange-and-black Sage High cheerleading uniforms, holding campaign signs and wearing red, white, and blue ribbons in their hair. Eden had specifically asked them, in her nicest voice, not to do the “We’re going to score tonight!” cheer while they were at the debate venue.
“No problem,” the head cheerleader had told her. “I wrote a new one for the occasion anyway.” Milo couldn’t wait to hear what it was. Eden was a little nervous.
The marching band was there, standing in a cramped formation but blaring away. Milo could see his friends from the soccer team, kicking a ball around on the grass near the parking lot and passing it to each other.
If the powers that be wouldn’t let him into the debate (and Milo and Eden were 99% sure that they wouldn’t), they would still get attention. A lot of attention. Milo could see some security officers and reporters already looking their way. But, as they’d been reminded by Mr. Satteson a hundred times already that day, they were not going to give the officials any reason to kick them out. Mr. Satteson had gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this part of the field trip and had gotten permission from the debate organizers to have this “civic experience” in the parking lot.
Still, the security officers were keeping a close eye on them. Milo knew they would kick the Sage High group out at the slightest provocation. He wondered if bringing the officers some free food would make them happier. Looking at their faces, he doubted it.
A few minutes later, even more people were staring at them because the Sage High cheerleaders had started their new cheer:
Red, white, and blue
We’re telling all of you
Listen to what we have to say
Let Milo Wright debate today!
Give us a chance, let us try
We know that the stakes are high
Global warming, Medicaid,
Education, war, free trade.
Red, white, and blue
We’re telling all of you
Listen to what we have to say!
Let Milo Wright debate TODAY!
Milo and his friends looked at each other, speechless. Finally, Eden found her voice. “Oh, wow. I have seriously underestimated our cheerleaders.”
“I’ve never underestimated our cheerleaders,” said Jack. “They look good, they write killer political cheers, they show school spirit . . .” He glanced over at Paige to see if he was achieving the desired effect—jealousy.
All Paige said was, “That cheer rocked.”
“Red, whi
te, and blue . . .” the cheerleaders started over again. Milo, Eden, Jack, and Paige joined in. By the third time through, most of the crowd had caught on and was cheering along.
Before Milo followed the rest of his friends in climbing down from the bus, he took one last look at the birds’-eye view of the best pre-debate tailgate party he’d ever seen. In fact, he thought, it was probably the best pre-debate tailgate party the United States of America had ever seen.
* * *
Walking around in the crowd, Milo felt like his eyes couldn’t open wide enough or stare hard enough to take it all in. He didn’t want to forget anything. He didn’t want to forget the names of the songs they were playing on the sound system, or the faces of any of the people who were there, or the way his whole body felt alive, alive, alive. But he knew he would forget, and it was driving him crazy.
“Do you have a camera?” he asked Paige.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Halle Bulloch is all over it.” She pointed to Halle, the campaign historian, who was walking through the crowd with her camera and documenting everything.
“But the pictures someone else takes are never exactly the ones you would take yourself, you know?”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Paige told him. “Stop worrying and just enjoy it. You only have a couple of minutes before you have to wait in line for the debate.”
Milo knew she was right, so he looked out at everyone again and let himself grin so much that his face felt stretched out. He was even glad his family had driven down with him for the debate. He couldn’t wait to see what they thought about all of it.
“Milo!” someone called. There was his mom, walking toward him, swinging her purse. She looked ten years younger than usual. “Milo Justin Wright, can you believe this?” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “I can’t. I thought the interview was the experience of a lifetime for you. But this is even better, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” Milo agreed this was even cooler than the interview. Almost his whole high school was there to support him, when at the beginning of the year they’d thought he was, at best, funny, and at worst, a loser. This was, hands down, his favorite part of the campaign yet.
A little nagging voice in his head reminded him that none of this would have happened without the TV interview and the sudden notoriety he had brought to Sage High and its students, who wanted a little piece of the limelight. Earlier in the campaign, most of these people hadn’t turned up to volunteer or cared about what he was doing. But his growing fame (if you could even call it that) had drawn more interest.
Another little voice, the one he liked more, told him that everyone was out there to support him, that they were giving their time and energy for his campaign, no matter their personal reasons for being there. So what if maybe some of them did want a little piece of the limelight? Today there was enough to share.
He gave his mom a bear hug, right in front of everyone. Then he hugged his dad, too, and while he was at it, he hugged Maura, who was talking to Eden. And then he hugged Eden.
“Oh,” she said in surprise.
Milo worried he had freaked her out. “Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I got carried away.”
Jack had spotted him and was hurrying toward him. “Hey, Prez. Isn’t it about time to get things rolling? We’ve already had two or three reporters over here asking about you. You are going to get some serious press today, dude.”
“Okay.” Milo saw a face in the crowd that surprised him. “Is that Logan over there?” He gestured to a cluster of guys wearing orange and black.
“Yup,” Jack said. “The whole football team is here.”
“Why on earth would Logan come?” Milo wondered.
“To get out of school, idiot. It’s why I’m here.” Jack slugged Milo on the shoulder.
“Careful. You shouldn’t pick on a guy with no appendix.”
“Give it a rest. It’s been a week. You should be fine by now. I told Logan and those guys they should practice tackling on you.”
“I still can’t believe they came.”
“I asked them all to wear their football jerseys,” Eden said. “I thought it would be great publicity. They didn’t seem to mind.” She handed Milo a plastic bag. “I’ve been meaning to show you these, too. They weren’t part of the original plan. They’re something Paige and Spencer and I thought of and put together last week while you were recuperating.”
“While you were being a lazy wimp,” Jack clarified.
“Did you sleep at all last week?” Milo asked Eden.
“Not much.”
Milo opened up the bag. He couldn’t think of a single thing that they hadn’t already thought of in making their plans for the debate. Inside the bag, he saw a rolled-up, ribbon-tied copy of the Teenage Bill of Rights they’d written for the website, a Freshman for President button, and a certificate for a free shake at James’s Drugstore.
“They’re press kits,” said Eden.
“It’s like a Happy Meal,” Milo groaned. “There’s even a prize.” Then he remembered how Eden had felt when he’d been reluctant about Air Force Fun. “They’re great, though,” he said, hastily. “Who are you giving them to? All the reporters?”
“Yeah. I have people out in the crowd distributing them to anyone who looks even a little bit official.” A sound at the podium made them turn. “Oh, there’s Mr. Satteson, getting ready to introduce you. You should get over there.”
Milo straightened his tie and made his way through the crowd toward the podium as unobtrusively as possible (although people kept whispering and waving at him).
Mr. Satteson gave a short and impassioned speech about good behavior and not giving the national press a bad impression of Sage High and the city of Sage. He told the students the plan that he and Milo and Eden had made to try to get into the debate, and made the other students promise to go along with it. He pointed out that nothing of value would get accomplished today if they were thrown out of the parking lot. Then he smiled and said, “And now, we’re going to hear from Milo Wright, our own presidential candidate, student, and friend.”
Milo hopped up on the podium. He looked out into the crowd and didn’t feel nervous at all, just excited. Maybe he was getting used to this public speaking thing. As Paige had reminded him: “No matter what happens, you’ll be better than Wimmer.” The microphone didn’t screech once during his brief speech.
“Hey, everyone, I really appreciate you coming today. I couldn’t believe it when I saw how many of you showed up. Thank you all for being here and being willing to give up your time to help us out. I just want you to know that I am definitely aware none of this could be happening without your support, and that I also know this isn’t just about me.
“It’s about every individual student who wants to be heard and it’s about teenagers at Sage High and everywhere else, too. Let’s go show them what we’re made of. If we can’t get into the debate, we’ll just have the kind of party that will make everyone inside debating wish they were out here instead!”
People cheered. Milo loved the sound. He absolutely loved it. He climbed down from the podium and walked over to Mr. Satteson. It was time to try to get inside.
* * *
Jack had taken his role as bodyguard to heart, wearing sunglasses and a buttoned-up suit coat over his Write in Wright T-shirt.
“What on earth is in your ear?” Paige asked him.
Jack turned toward her. “One of my iPod earphones.” The cord disappeared underneath his blazer. “Is it working? Do I look like a Secret Service guy with all that special security stuff?”
“You look like a kid with an iPod earphone in his ear,” Paige told him.
“Maybe if you get up close.” Jack was undeterred. “But I bet from far away they can’t tell.”
“If believing that m
akes you feel like more of a man, then go right ahead.” Paige was not wearing a fake earphone, but she was pretty impressive nonetheless. With her heels on, she was almost six feet tall. Her hair was red, white, and blue. And the look on her face said, “Back off.”
“I wish we had real headsets and stuff,” Jack complained, as they escorted Milo, Eden, and Mr. Satteson through the crowd.
“I wish we had watches with poison in them,” Paige answered.
“That’s James Bond, Paige, not the Secret Service.”
“Whatever.”
Behind them walked the rest of the Sage High school contingency, all two hundred and eighty-one of them.
At first, Milo and his friends couldn’t get very close at all to the convention center auditorium being used for the debate. Then people in the crowd started noticing him. “There he is! He’s going to try to get into the debate!”
Milo found that people cleared the way when you had a little entourage. They got close enough to the barrier that he could see the security guys keeping people at bay, and he could see a few reporters milling about. All of the important reporters would be inside, he imagined. Still, it would be great to get some press.
Milo kept walking forward. He felt like Moses parting the Red Sea as people moved to make room for the Sage High school group. He started to walk with a little more swagger and wave to people. They waved back.
“I can see your ego inflating by the minute,” Eden whispered to him.
Someone slipped into the line next to Milo. He turned in surprise, wondering who had made it through Jack’s security. It was Maura.
“Hey.” Maura nodded to Mr. Satteson and fell into step with them. Milo noticed she was wearing her sunglasses and that she stayed right next to him and Jack, flinching a little when the crowd on either side got too big. Things were getting more and more congested as they got closer to the entrance. It seemed like the crowd at the debate was the size of Sage.
As planned, everyone fell back when they got to the spot where the general public waited for a chance to get in. Only Milo and Mr. Satteson actually entered the line. They were there for less than a minute before they were confronted by two unsmiling security guards.