The iCandidate (21 page)

KYLIE

Roger Bean
rubs his forehead in frustration. The first two opening statements were disasters for his boss. Beaumont fell flat with his jab and Michael was a hit with the audience. Having Beaumont’s own line used against him was like icing someone else’s cake. Roger’s reaction was restrained, unless getting taken to school was part of Beaumont’s debate strategy. If I were him, I would be breaking things.

I was careful to
stay clear of Michael and his staff before he took to the stage, choosing to move backstage only after the event started. This is a restricted area for most press, but those of us doing deep background on the campaigns were granted special access.

I spend a couple of moments greeting some colleagues covering the other
candidates as Richard Johnson stammers through his opening statement. Did he just say something about his mother? If he is the best the Republicans can offer, I‘m sure the voters of the district are as concerned as I am.

Bored with what he is saying, or trying to say, I head over to the monitor the kids are glued to.
Call of Duty
couldn’t command the attention they are giving the screen. I’m not sure if they are caught up in the moment or amazed their mentor owned one of the country’s most prominent politicians right out of the gates on national television.

“
Our first topic this evening will be about fiscal responsibility. We will begin with Representative Beaumont.”

Beaumont
sputters through the first thirty seconds of his response to a question on government spending. When the deficit and national debt balloons during your time in office, it behooves the incumbent to move off the topic quickly.

“
Michael Bennit can’t understand the complexities of governmental budgeting because he’s not qualified to be in Congress! My family has been in Connecticut politics for decades! People have entrusted us in leadership roles for a reason, Mister Bennit. We deliver. Can you say that?”

Michael looks out over the audience and then to the camera with his arm outstretched, as if presenting the world to Winston Beaumont. This is the second moment o
f truth. Opening statements are important to help overcome nerves, but this is his first time addressing a question on stage and on camera with sixty million people watching at home.

“
Did anyone else notice that the country is running trillion dollar deficits, racked up trillions and trillions in national debt, and Congressman Beaumont finished his answer by attacking me?” Michael asks with a smile, invoking a chorus of laughs. For a serious guy, he knows how to work a crowd. “Congressman, with all due respect, running up the debt is what you manage to deliver. I read about your family’s legacy in politics. They worked hard to earn their leadership positions in this state and ought to be commended. The problem is you regard your seat as a birthright. “

“
I most certainly do not! I have more qualifications than you ever will to sit in this office.”

“
So you have said. Since we are never going to move forward tonight until we address this, let’s review qualifications from a Constitutional perspective.”

“
And here comes today's history lesson,” Vince, Peyton, Amanda, and Chelsea exclaim at the same time. I haven’t known Michael long, but even I knew that was coming.

“
Article One, Section Two of the United States Constitution requires that The House of Representatives shall be composed of members who have reached an age of twenty-five years, been a United States citizen for seven years, and inhabit the state from which chosen,” he says, looking directly at Winston.

“
I think you mean Article II, Mister Bennit,” Johnson croaks, clearly feeling left out of the discussion.

“What?”

“The Legislature. It’s Article II of the Constitution. The Executive Branch is most powerful, so it’s number one.”

Vince and Peyton start laughing out loud at the comment
while Chelsea shakes her head in utter disbelief. Remarkably few Americans will immediately pick up on the gaffe, but they are about to get educated. The fact that Michael’s students recognized it so quickly shows how bright these kids are.

“Mister Johnson,” Michael says with a
barely suppressed smile. “The Framers at the Constitutional Convention feared the legislature more than the executive. Based on their experience with the British Parliament before the Revolution, they thought it was most powerful, and most prone to corruption. Thus they spent considerable time during the summer of 1787 debating how to restrain the new assembly and it became Article I.”

Richard Johnson compounds
his mistake by shaking his head no.

“I’ll tell you what,
I would be happy to wait while you check in your copy of the Constitution.”

All Johnson manage
s to do is look at Michael sheepishly before turning and flashing a forced smile to the camera.

“Here, borrow mine,
” Michael says, pulling a book from the inside his suit jacket as he walks over to Johnson’s lectern. He stands there, holding out the pocket-sized copy and waiting for the all-style, no-substance Republican to make the decision whether to accept it.

Michael
is not about to walk away, and Beaumont isn’t clamoring to rescue him, so Johnson accepts the book while the audience go nuts with laughter. To make matters an order of magnitude worse, he actually begins flipping pages on camera, in front of the audience, voters in his district, and the millions of Americans watching. In this moment, one destined to become a part of American political lore, and a viral sensation on YouTube for years to come, historians will decree the campaign of Richard Johnson for Congress officially died.

Johnson literally
looks as if he wants to crawl under his lectern and cry, and to Michael’s credit, he isn’t rubbing it in further. Not that he needs to, but he easily can take this showmanship too far and be labeled a bully. Even the moderator is at a loss for what to do when Michael walks back to his podium.

“
Do I not meet any one of those qualifications, congressman?” he asks, refocusing on Winston Beaumont to the relief of Johnson.

Winsto
n stands stunned at his own lectern, although I can’t be certain if it is because he just watched his Republican opponent get decimated or he’s now scared for himself. He fidgets nervously, probably just now realizing that he has underestimated Michael Bennit.

Beaumont clears his throat
before replying, “I'm simply saying you have no experience in governing.”

“The F
ramers never intended the House of Representatives to be full of career legislators. The Senate was originally selected by state legislatures and the President is elected by the Electoral College,” Michael adds for Richard Johnson’s benefit. “Members of the House were the only original popularly-elected officials in the national government for a reason. They wanted an average person, elected by the people, sent to legislate for the people.”

Applause ripples through the audience, causing Winston to look around nervously.

“So I will ask you again. Are there any qualifications I don’t meet?”

“Constitutionally, no,” Beaumont mumbles, defeated.

“Excellent. So let’s move on to phase two of your debate strategy and start talking about how I never address the issues, because that’s what voters really want to hear tonight.” And with a single line, the audience erupts and Beaumont’s plan to frame his chief opponent as an undeserving novice is finished.

Michael never seemed to want to be a candidate when I first met him. He was content to let his students
bask in the limelight while he sat back and watched from a distance. The tactic was one I never really understood, even as they gained ground using it.

When Beaumont went after them,
the nature of the race changed. It may be a cliché, but the attacks on Vince, Peyton, and Brian awoke the sleeping giant. The loyalty Michael’s students have toward him is clearly reciprocated, because he’s not just out to win this debate, he wants to humiliate Beaumont and Johnson doing it.

CHELSEA

The world is finding out the same thing about Mister Bennit as we did on the first day of class, and it’s entertaining to watch. If you are going to g
et into a debate with him, you need to have your facts straight and be quick on your feet. After the whole Constitution debacle, Richard Johnson clearly didn’t and Beaumont isn’t fairing much better.

The funny thing
is, a half an hour into the debate and he still hasn’t taken a strong stand on any issue. His opponents’ attempts to box him in on foreign intervention and gay marriage still didn’t force him into a firm position. Each time, he brings the discussion back to American ideals and the importance of honest, forthright debates as a society. The public was treated to weeks of hype and speculation on what he would say, and I am surprised the audience loves his answers.

I know where he stands on
many things even though he is careful not to discuss his personal views in a classroom environment. I wonder why he doesn’t share his opinions with the world at this point. We all thought that was the reason we pushed to be here. What is he trying to prove?

The next issue is announced by the moderator and I cringe.
It’s a question about gun control, and a sensitive subject in this area since the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown happened only a fifteen-minute drive from here. Mister Bennit jokes his idea of strict gun control means proper stance, grip, sight alignment and breath control. I’m sure the line won’t play well in light of more recent tragedies, so I hope he doesn’t use it.

“
Let me guess Mister Bennit. Your philosophy is ‘kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out’?” Congressman Beaumont asks, after a long-winded soliloquy.

“
No, that’s a tenant of total war. Can you tell me when the last one was, congressman?”

“The last one?”

“Yes, the last total war the United States fought. Can you tell me what it was?”

The camera focuses on the
flustered and visibly shaken Winston Beaumont. I can even see the small drops of sweat forming on his forehead. How did previous generations ever cope without high-definition television?

The
congressman stares at his podium, stalling as he searches for a way to dodge the question. Obviously, his debate preparations didn’t include this, and Mister B won’t let the reputed political genius squirm out easily. On this stage, Mister B is the chess master and Winston Beaumont is the one playing Candyland.

“
Congressman, every one of my high school students would have their hands up by now. Can you answer my question? It’s a simple one,” Mister Bennit prods, almost daring him to reply.

“Well, if
you are this good of a teacher, maybe you should consider going back to it.” Oh, he left that door open.

“
Right now, my students aren’t in need of the lesson more than the incumbent representative from Connecticut’s Sixth District. So what do you say?” Mister B. asks. Yup, he walked right through the door to the amusement of the audience.

“
Vietnam.”

“Oh,
congressman,” our mentor scolds in mock disappointment, “you would not have lasted long in my history class.” From backstage, I still can hear everyone snicker as he continues. “Vietnam was a limited war focusing more on containment and relying on the hearts and minds approach popularized by the British in Malay. World War Two was the last total war.”

“
You should just drop out of this election and play
Jeopardy
, Mister Bennit,” Johnson says, throwing a lifeline to his embattled political foe. I have no idea why. I guess he is trying to become relevant in the debate again.

“
So now I am too smart to be in Congress, Mister Johnson?” our teacher chides, sending Dick to slink back into the hole he dug himself earlier. This is seriously the most entertaining thing I’ve seen on TV in years. I wonder what the rest of America is thinking right now.

“
Are you going to answer my original question, or just narrate for the History Channel all night?” Beaumont decries harshly.

“I will
be happy to answer your question, congressman, if you answer this one first. Everyone is endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights, among them life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness, correct?

Beaumont pauses in a moment of uncertainty. I am sure he doesn’t want to fall into a similar trap that ended his Republican nemesis’ relevance, so he takes a moment to think about it. Oops.

“A copy of the Declaration of Independence is in the book I gave Mister Johnson. When he’s done reading the Constitution, maybe you can borrow—”

“Yes, that’s correct!
” Beaumont practically shouts.

“
So, as long as I kill someone with a hammer, and not a Sig Sauer 9 millimeter handgun, it’s okay?”

“Of course not, that’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“I agree. So gun control is not the real issue we are talking about, crime control is. When you, a family member, or friend is a victim of a violent crime, does anyone care whether the weapon was a gun, knife, or even a rock?” Mister Bennit says to the camera. “Yes, we ought to have sensible measures governing use and ownership of firearms in America. Washington’s approach only puts a Band-Aid on the larger issue. Violence is violence, and until we get serious about discussing how to deal with brutality in our culture, the murders, assaults and rapes plaguing our society are going to continue unabated.”

* * *

I was pretty optimistic coming into the debate, but now I’m
downright giddy. Mister Bennit is absolutely killing it tonight. Peyton, a girl who only used to only get excited about boy bands and sales at the mall, is as caught up in the moment as I am. My other classmates are equally entranced with the beating Beaumont and Johnson are getting on stage.

The only exception is Miss Slater. I am not going to pretend to understand what is
happening between her and Mister B, but she has not even cracked a smile the entire time he’s been out on stage. I thought they were the perfect couple from the instant the rumor mill reported they were dating. Apparently, even perfect couples go through rough patches in their relationships.

The debate is winding down, so
everyone backstage is getting a little antsy. The pudgy Miles guy who runs Johnson’s campaign turned out to be all bark and no bite, his bluster replaced with a burning desire to find the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

The people with Beaumont don’t look much better. The handsome
, older man is practically pulling his well-styled hair out. The pretty one who looks like a constipated version of Kylie is pacing back and forth, creating a rut in floor. The only one who is calm is the cute younger guy, probably because the creepizoid is more interested in undressing me with his eyes than the happenings on stage.

Male attention is not something I ever
crave and rarely receive. Foregoing the daily makeup and hair rituals helps out with that, but tonight is a different story. Since this was our first public appearance for the campaign, Peyton pleaded to let her ‘spruce me up.’ It wasn’t a
Princess Diaries
level makeover, but even I was amazed what proper makeup application can do for my appearance. She also added some loose, sweeping curls into my straight red hair, and as a result, I look about five years older than I am. My father wasn’t happy, but compliments have been flowing in all evening.

Beaumont
is stuttering through another response to a question on stage. He sounds like a complete idiot, even though Kylie keeps telling us he is one of the most articulate voices in Congress. Being caught up in the moment, I never realized the creepy, cute guy had walked over until he was standing next to me. Peyton must think he’s hot too, because she giggles a little before elbowing me gently in the side.

“
Your guy is doing well,” I hear him say, catching him looking out of the corner of his eye at me.

“He is doing better than well. He’s kicking your guy's ass.” My harsh, frigid response should serve as a good deterrent to any flirting he wants to do with me.

“Yes, he is. I’m Blake Peoni,” he introduces, offering me his hand. He’s either into harsh and frigid, or at the very least, undeterred by it.”

“Chelsea Stanton,” I state, quickly returning his handshake. “This is Peyton and
that’s Amanda.” They give the quick ‘hi gesture’ most teenage girls master in high school when they are talking to a hot guy.

“
Can we talk in private?” he whispers to me, ignoring both my peers. I want to say no because I don’t trust him. If we learned one thing during this campaign, it’s Winston Beaumont and his staff are capable of anything. I am curious, and my delay in responding must have been mistaken for consent.

Blake
grasps me lightly by the arm, guiding me to a spot near some double doors out of view from the stage and most of the backstage area. Peyton and Vanessa change position so they can see me, although out of earshot. I don’t expect to be attacked or anything with this many people around. Regardless, girls can’t be too careful these days, especially with any scum that works in Washington.

“
What do you want, Mister Peoni?” I say to him as he checks behind the doors and looks back to the stage nervously.

“
The name’s Blake,” he replies, in a near whisper.

“
I have a question for you. Is Bennit a good man? I mean, is he doing this for his own benefit or—”

“I am his campaign manager
,
Mister Peoni
. You knew the answer to that question before you even asked it.”

“Yeah, I probably did.”

“So what’s your angle? Why’d you really pull me over here?”

“No angle. At least, not this time,” he says with a smirk
I almost mistake as sincere. “Let me explain why I asked. When we did the homework on your guy, I got a hold of his military record. Do you know what’s in it?” Okay, this guy is pissing me off. Does he think he will turn me on Mister B because of something he did in the army? Is that his plan?

“Let me tell you a little story Mister Peoni. When I was a
freshman, my dad was stuck working long shifts at the factory. One day, I missed the bus and just had to wander the halls aimlessly until he could pick me up. The school was new to me, and so big, and I was scared to death. I was shy, and found it hard to make friends. None of them would have been there anyway.

“
Mister Bennit saw me wandering down the hall in tears and invited me into his classroom to do my homework while his students were getting extra help. I’ve known him, or been a student of his, ever since. In all that time, he never once told even a single story about his time in the military.” Okay, that’s not entirely true considering his revelation at Briar Point, but this guy doesn’t need to know that. If this lackey is going to drop a bomb on me, I am not going encourage him by pretending I know anything about Mister Bennit’s time in the Special Forces.

“
He's not the type to brag about his service, I get it. But the file on Bennit doesn’t lie. He’s a highly decorated veteran and his Distinguished Service Cross was a whisper away from being a Medal of Honor. This is politics and Americans love a hero. Why does he keep his military resume quiet?”

A Distinguished Service Cross?
I’ve only heard of it because Dad was a Marine. Is that the medal Kylie was referring to? Damn, that’s not what I was expecting. I wonder what this jerk is up to. I look him directly in the eye to let him know I’m not intimidated, which of course, I am.

“
You asked if he was a good man. I think you just answered your own question.”

Blake blinks a couple of times,
but his eyes search my face like a poker player figuring out if the guy who went all in at a hold ‘em table is bluffing. Or maybe I am reading him wrong because he exhales deeply.

“What? Don’t believe me?”

“No, I do,” he says before looking back toward Peyton and Amanda, who are doing a terrible job at trying be disinterested in our chat. “Here’s some inside baseball for you. Winston Beaumont plans to use this next term as a launch pad for a Senate bid, and has his eye on being the majority leader in that house someday. He’s not going to let himself get beaten by someone he considers an upstart.”

I feel my face flush with anger. It could be the word ‘upstart’
, which we are, or the fact that this smug staffer thinks he’s so smooth. Either way, I’m getting emotional.

“
If you think for a second threatening us is going to intimidate—”

He
holds his hands up in surrender and then places a finger over his lips. I realize I’m shouting louder than I wanted and glance around to see if anyone noticed.

“
I’m not threatening you. Please don’t get angry.”

“I’m a redhead. I’ll get
mad whenever I damn well please!” Does he not know our reputation?