CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
DAPHNE
Throngs of peopleshuffle into the stadium, many with American flags clutched in their hands, American flag hats—the brainwashed political zombies decked out in their finest red, white, and blue garb made in China.
Dad’s “Unite America” platform rings out through the crowd—of course, they’re the fanatical majority who treat him like he’s the goddamn pope. He insisted on no single color in his campaign, instead mixing red, white, and blue at every opportunity. From the patterned ties down to his red and blue socks, Dad’s platform brings together the torn-apart country.
And it’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever seen him shovel.
I kind of wish Tristan were here with me. He’d point out the hypocrisy of it all with a joke and distract me from the stage fright that’s trailing me like a bad smell.
But I know he wouldn’t be allowed in view. No, he’d be stuck in the crowd, probably sandwiched between an old woman in American flag earrings she bought at Hobby Lobby and some moron who believes that all of Europewould be speaking German if it hadn’t been for big bad America saving the day during World War Two.
Patriotic instrumental music hums through the speakers like dinner music at a wedding. The piano rendition of theStar Spangled Bannermakes me want to puke, knowing the rally’s about to start.
I hate speaking in front of people—even with my words scripted.
“So, as soon as Ray Charles’America the Beautifulfades, you step on stage. Let the applause go on as long as you can.” Dad’s aide lectures me with her nose nearly pressed into her iPad. It’s almost as far up the tablet as it is up my Dad’s ass. “Wave and smile. Your speech will already be on the teleprompter.”
“Got it.” If I say anything else, I might puke on her bespoke pantsuit. I shouldn’t have had that turkey sandwich from the catering table.
Dad lives for these moments. All I want to do is run offstage and hide.
AsAmerica the Beautifulends, I step to the edge of the curtain. My hands are so clammy they’re damp as I run them along the bottom of my blue and red color block dress—one Mom said would slim me down as much as possible with my new Spanx.
I didn’t care enough to argue. This is the last favor I owe them, and I’ll do it with a smile and a falsely flattened stomach if it earns me my freedom.
As the song ends, I’m careful not to wobble as I step onto the stage.
The applause is deafening—and I’m not even the main act. All I can focus on is watching my face as I wave at the crowd and beeline to the podium.
“Good morning, Baltimore,” I announce, my voiceechoing back at me even though the earplugs are blocking most of the noise. “Charm City, you’ve done it again. This is the largest turnout we’ve had so far in this election campaign. You’ve sold out Camden Yards.”
Applause thunders from the crowd.
“Not even the Orioles could do that this season.” Laughter echoes around the stadium. I don’t watch baseball, but at least I know the Orioles are the home team. “But this season is a new chapter of American history.”
The words slowly skim down my teleprompter like reading the intro to a Star Wars movie, though this feels more otherworldly.
“In a few minutes, the President of the United States will step onto this stage to speak to you all. Some of our brave servicemen, women, and veterans call him Commander-in-Chief.” More applause.Man, their hands are going to be sore later.
“Some of you may know him as Grover the Closer. He’s closed more foreign trade deals than any other president in the last thirty years.” Sketchy deals, but hey, it doesn’t stop the applause from rolling in.
“But I’ve always known him as Dad.” The applause softens now, and there goes the tug on the heartstrings. “My dad’s always been more than a President to me,” I lie through my teeth. “He’s been my hero. He taught me the value of the American family. That hard work and perseverance will pay off, so long as you work towards a goal. From his example, I learned how to have hope for a brighter future.”
My future will be brighter when I’m far away from him, but my thoughts are drowned out by more applause.
“And I know, in his hands, the next four years will be bright for America.”
Music thumps through the speakers as Dad’s intro music begins.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Baltimore, I give you President Grover Fox, the future of America.”
My stomach sinks in relief as I take two steps back from the podium and Mom and Dad walk on stage, their hands clasped like a happily married couple, each of them waving their free hand and smiling a trained smile.
Watch your face.
I check my cheeks and tug them up before any of the cameras capture my error.
