The iCandidate (17 page)

KYLIE

CNN
cut in with the story around one o’clock this afternoon. Obviously the leak was timed to get maximum exposure on the local stations this evening. The news is being carried nationally by every outlet, but it’s the voters of the Sixth District Beaumont needs to target. To maximize effect, the information was provided directly to one of the news stations up in Hartford, knowing it would get plenty of play. Connecticut is not known for making national headlines in politics, so they are going to run with every single thing they get, and this is no exception.

I pull my car into the
driveway at Millfield High School and find a space in visitor parking. With the students gone for the day, the police are not quite as militant about keeping press off the grounds, although it still takes some effort to talk my way into the building. Knowing Michael’s relationship with the principal, I decide to skip visiting the Main Office and search for his classroom on my own.

I have spent a ton of time in
Millfield since this all started, so I was able to develop a network of people who keep me well-informed about the happenings in the life of the iCandidate. I know about his continuing problems with his dweeby, power-thirsty principal and the issues with his fiancée. I even have insight into the strain on his relationship with his students’ parents. This news will make that dynamic much worse.

So
when I finally find him seated at his desk in the classroom, he does not appear as defeated as one might think. It is also abundantly clear today is not going to have a positive footnote in his memoirs. Without saying a word, I take a seat on top of a student desk and wait for him to talk.

“I take it you’ve heard?”

“It’s a small school. When the transgressions of three of your students are being reported on an endless loop on cable news, word travels pretty fast.”

“You didn’t think Beaumont would sit on the sidelines forever, did you? I mean, it was only a matter of time before they came after you.

“Damn it, Kylie, they’re not coming after me, they’re going after my kids! Peyton, Brian and Vince aren’t running for office, I am.”

I look at the spread of popular magazines on Michael’s desk. Each one features one of his student staff members. I had seen a couple in passing, but I didn’t realize that they were in so many. He watches me flip to the article on Brian in
Wired
.

“
Jessica said this was spinning out of control when she handed me those,” Michael finally continues after a couple of moments. “I can only imagine what she thinks now that Vince, Peyton, and Brian are being embarrassed on national television. I guess maybe she was right.”

“
You wanted this exposure,” I point out, showing him the cover of the magazine. “You put them in the spotlight.”

“You could’
ve talked me out of it.”

“I don’t work for you or your staff,” I say
sharply, remembering Bill’s comment from a few days ago. “I’m only a journalist. I’m more than a little partial towards you, but ultimately you set the direction and I help where I can.”

“If you were
only a journalist, you never would have been let into the building.”

He makes a f
air point, but I’m not thrilled he recognizes my lack of objectivity. I am still struggling with it myself.

“
Well, I went off in a direction that led to my students getting stalked by paparazzi and the media. They need police escorts to school in the morning to avoid getting harassed by members of the press. They’ve alienated their friends, given up their summer and fall, and now their teenage mistakes are being broadcast onto every television in America.”

Michael stops and grimaces.
I give him a sympathetic look, because I think I understand what’s bothering him.” You’re afraid what you are trying to teach them is getting lost in the mania.”

“
I wasn't counting on my kids being elevated to rock star status, and I never thought Beaumont would stoop so low as to go after them.”

“That’s what happ
ens when they become the focus.” Michael gives me a look of chagrin. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but I’m not one to obscure the truth. “You said this was a journey for them. What is happening is part of the trip, intended or not. Politics is a dirty business. Maybe that’s a lesson you both need to learn.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You know, what is getting reported is petty stuff,” I say in a futile attempt to put a silver lining on this. “I mean, alcohol, marijuana, cheating and illegal downloads? C’mon, every teenager in America is doing that stuff.”

“
Yeah, well, these particular teenagers happen to be working on a congressional campaign staff. And their parents don’t feel like its petty stuff right now.”

“Have you talked to
them?”

“
I called each of them at work as soon as school let out. Vince has a tough home life. His dad split when he was a boy and his mom is too overwhelmed to care much so long as he isn’t in prison. It’s why he is influenced by his friends, so it’s not hard to understand why he got busted for alcohol and marijuana possession. He runs with a pretty rough crowd.

“Peyton’s parents are your typical white, upper-middle class,
two and a half kid, white-picket fencers. They work hard to be the perfect family from the outside. They were pissed any information about their daughter that could shatter that perception was made public. I’m sure they thought her getting caught cheating was long forgotten.”

“I can imagine.
And Brian?”

Michael cracks a smile. “I think his parents figure he will
get busted hacking the DoD or something, someday. Of all the things Brian is capable of, downloading music without paying for it was pretty low on their list of concerns. They were upset about hearing their son’s name on CNN though.”

“You’ve had a tough day,” I point out, as if he didn’t know that.
Stupid.

“
You don’t know the half of it. Tell me something, Kylie. With four weeks until Election Day, does it get better or worse from here? “

“
What did Vince tell me your favorite line is? It's a matter of perspective?” That got him to smile a little broader, and even let out a chuckle.

”So, what now?”

Since the day we met, I have been amazed about how quick Michael makes decisions. He takes information, processes it, and settles on a course of action in mere seconds. It’s quite amazing to watch, especially now.

“First
, I need to fight off the wolves. Then I need to pick up the spirits of the troops in the trenches.”

“How are you planning on doing that? It’s not like you’re
Mister Sunshine yourself right now.”

“Ever heard of General McAuliffe?”
he asks, pointing to a print tacked to the wall in the back of the room. Apparently he doesn’t know how poorly I did in social studies in high school, and that’s probably a good thing. I glance back to see a black and white poster of a man in and old army uniform and helmet.

“Is this the start of a history lesson?”

“Look around you. It’s what I do,” he responds, cracking the first smile of the afternoon. “General McAuliffe was the acting Commanding General of the 101st Airborne Division when they got trapped in Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge. His boss was attending a staff conference in the U.S. at the time, so all eyes were on McAuliffe when the division found itself surrounded by the German armor. When his aide presented him with the surrender demand, he tossed the crumpled paper in the trash with the words ‘Aw, nuts.’”

“I’m sure you have a point to this.”

“I do. His staff couldn’t figure out how to respond to the German demand until a colonel suggested using the general’s exact words. That simple reply became a rallying cry for the Screaming Eagles during the war and part of U.S. military lore ever since.”

“Nuts,” I say,
still completely lost to his point. Watching the History Channel is almost a prerequisite for having a conversation with this man.

“
The commander of the 327th Glider Infantry had to explain to the Germans that the message basically meant ‘go to hell.’ The moral of the story, since I’m sure you’re about to ask, is McAuliffe was in Bastogne with his men. They were stuck in the same shitty situation, and shared the same ‘we’re screwed’ thoughts. He wasn’t going to let the Germans think that though.”

“
And you’re going to apply that how?” I ask, still not clear on how this applies.

“
My kids made mistakes they think will hurt the campaign,” he continues. “Time for them to know they aren’t the only ones who have done things they’re not proud of. In the process, we send our own message to Winton Beaumont that means go to hell.”

I suddenly
get his point, and the reason why he’s opening up. I think I’m about to find out what makes Michael Bennit tick. The determination in his eyes that makes me believe he is engaged for the first time in this campaign. They went after his kids, so now this whole thing became personal.

Since the day I met Vince and talked to Michael I have questioned my objectivity. Yes, I want to get even with Winston Beaumont in the worst possible way. No, I refuse to let myself turn into my sister to do it. Despite this, I
am getting more drawn in to this campaign. There is something about this man that pulls people into his sphere of influence. Now I know where the Chelsea and the gang get their motivation from.

Michael’s students
didn’t have any better success fighting this attraction, creating one motley group of friends. While they started off as classmates, they formed relationships as a staff that became real friendships. A pair of jocks, a nerd, a derelict, a beauty queen, an introvert, a hippie and I am not even sure what category to put Chelsea in. A modern version of the
Breakfast Club
, or at least something I would expect to see as the movie of the week on the Family Channel.

Now both they and their renegade teacher
finally got a bitter taste of the modern election process I knew was coming. There were days when the personal lives of politicians stayed private. Whether it was FDR in his wheelchair or JFK’s womanizing, there were limits as to what was printed and played on television. In the age of the twenty-four-hour media cycle, those limits are long gone.

I guess all that remains to be answered is where the Bennit campaign, a media wonder that has captivated the nation for weeks now, goes from here.
Will his students persevere through this latest challenge? Will it matter if the school administrators and town’s school board decide to put an end to this?

MICHAEL

A
pang of guilt jars my stomach as I pull into the parking lot of the non-descript brick building. Kylie has already done more for this campaign than I ever should expect, and this is just another instance where she might be compelled to jump into the fray. She didn’t hesitate to help with the school board, but there is probably nothing she could do spare me this perp walk.

That is how I rationalize not telling her about the
phone call I received just minutes before she walked into my classroom. Given the breaking news about Vince, Brian, and Peyton, this summons was no real surprise.

Unfortunately, the media is here too. Whether they
heard of my arrival in advance, or were camped out looking for comment from the school system is anyone’s guess. Cameramen and reporters come sprinting across the lawn at me, shouting questions the whole way. They must have been getting some long shots of the building when I arrived. Lucky for me there’s more than enough distance between us for me to slip into the four-story tower of terror unmolested.

I give them a quick friendly wave before ducking in
the front door. The walk to the lion’s den is a short one, and I am greeted by a receptionist in the outer office. She covers the phone with her hand as I enter and stand in front of her desk.

“She’s waiting for you
, Mister Bennit. Please go on in.”

“Thanks,” I say, walking past her and coming to grips with how much my reputation precedes me these days. I have never met the receptionist before in my life.

I get waved into the office before I even reach the door. “Come in Michael, and please have a seat,” Charlene Freeman says from the executive chair behind her gigantic oak desk. As I enter the room, I begin to understand the gravity of the meeting. Standing along the wall are the town’s attorney, the teacher’s union representative, my department head, Chalice, and the director of personnel for the Millfield Public School District. Seated in the other stylish, upholstered chair in front of her desk is my arch nemesis, Robinson Howell.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Charlene says in preamble.

“Looking around the room, I don’t think I had much of a choice, ma’am.” She smiles politely, but also knows I am one hundred percent correct. You don’t turn down the superintendent when she calls you into her office.

“Let’s begin
this, shall we? Irwin, why don’t you start?”

“Mister Bennit,
I’m certain you know why you were called here, so I will skip the preamble. Were you aware of these transgressions by the students in question prior to allowing them to participate in your campaign?”

Lawyers.
They can make hitting on a girl in a bar sound like a deposition. With his yellow legal pad in his hand and the accusatory look on his face, I figure this actually is one, sans the video camera.

“Yes, I did.”

“And you were okay with that?

“I was, and I still am.”

“That is a serious error in judgment on your part,” the lawyer says in a condescending tone.

“Not his first
,” Robinson mumbles from the chair next to me. Smug bastard. I try to fight it, but can feel my face flush with anger. When I get mad, sarcasm follows.

“Did you know the information would be released to the press?”

“No, I didn’t. I left my Magic 8-Ball in the classroom.”

“Michael,” Charlene intercedes, “
there is no reason to be glib.”

I glance over at Chalice who is looking at me with hardened eyes. The message I shouldn’t antagonize the superintendent is
transmitting clear. Returning my look to Charlene, I give her a nod out of respect.

“Did you ever discuss with your students and their parents
the possibility information like this might be made public?”

“No, I did not.”

“I see.” He jots down some more notes, and I am beginning to wonder if they are real or just a part of the theater he is putting on.

“Is there anything else?” Charlene asks impatiently
, trying to move this along. Apparently she doesn’t want to be here anymore than I do.

“Mister Bennit has put us at severe risk.
This requires more investigation, but I believe he exercised poor judgment and incompetence in this matter. The safest thing to do to protect ourselves would be place him on administrative leave immediately and reprimand him officially for his actions.”

Being a soldier, I want to start kicking someone’s ass. If we were at Fort Campbell right now, this needle-neck lawyer would be stuffed in a foot locker and Howell
on an ambulance trip to the post’s medical center. Violence may not be the answer, but it does feel damn good when exercised once in a while.

The problem
is I’m running for Congress. As I explained to my kids when I took the bet, the only thing I hate more than lawyers are the ones who become politicians. They may deserve it, and as entertaining as it would be for most Americans, kicking people’s asses on Capitol Hill is frowned upon.

So what would Chalice do?
She can’t exactly act as counsel in this company, so I am left to figure it out on my own. She can be a firecracker and ruthless defender of her faculty, but she also successfully navigated the treacherous waters of public education for thirty years. She’d change the paradigm and play their game better than they are. It’s a skill I will need to master if I win this race, so I might as well start now.

“I concur. Given this incident and the other disruptions he
is causing in the school, I believe—”

“How did the Beaumont
camp find out about Vince’s record?” I ask, cutting off Robinson mid-sentence.

“What?” the stuffed shirt the town calls their attorney asks.

“You heard me. Vince was a minor when he was arrested. He was tried as a juvenile for underage drinking and possession and his was record sealed. How did Beaumont find out about those proceedings?

“I don’t know. I suppose the court
—”

“Does the police department maintain
a copy of the arrest record?”

Chalice’s face change
s from one of concern to barely- perceptible amusement. That’s all the approval I need from my guardian. The attorney’s face is contorted into a completely different emotion.

“Of course.”

“Then instead of grilling me, wouldn’t it be in the town’s best interest to ensure the leak didn’t come out of our own police department? I mean, releasing information about a minor is very serious these days.”

“Michael, that’s not at issue here,” Howell says, recognizing
the meeting was getting away from my lynch mob.

“Okay
, Robinson, let’s move on to the next issue. Outside of me, Peyton, and her parents, there were four people who knew what she did to get suspended. Her teacher, guidance counselor, vice-principal, and …” I count on my fingers for added theatrical effect. “Can you tell me the fourth?”

What I would pay for
a picture of the look on Howell’s face right now.

“Robinson?” I needle.

“Me.”

“That’s correct, a g
old star for you. So tell me, which one of those four disclosed confidential student records to a politician for the sole purpose of using them to humiliate a teenage girl?”

Howell looks to Charlene with eyes pleading for her to save him. She only begrudgingly obliges. “That’s a very serious accusation, Michael.”

“Yes ma’am, but so far I have been accused of incompetence and poor judgment for failing to anticipate the unsavory tactics of an unscrupulous incumbent. I guess I’m wondering why, if protecting the town from legal action is the real goal here, why there is no investigation into who leaked the information to begin with?”

“This meeting is about you, Michael!” Howell shouts. I ignore him.

“Because if someone ever whispers into Brian’s, Peyton’s or Vince’s parents’ ear that they may have cause to sue the town, well, I would shudder to think how much that might cost to settle.” I even wiggle my shoulders for added effect.

The point of
the implied threat is not lost on my audience. Silence can be golden, but in this case, it’s deafening. I wonder who will recover first.

“Are you saying you would advise their parents to sue?” the
director of personnel asks incredulously. We have a winner.

“
Of course not. Unfortunately, this campaign has created opportunists looking to exploit situations for their own benefit and to advance their personal agenda. Isn’t that right, Robinson?”

If
he gets any hotter with anger, the frames of his glasses might melt right off his face. Even Charlene, who has remained quiet through all this, is mildly amused. She would never admit it, but she doesn’t like the weasel either. “I’m just trying to protect the school district and the town.”

“Well we appreciate that, Michael. And we’re also happy to hear you would never engage in an activity that would seriously jeopardize your chances for tenure.” I am not even sure what this woman’s name is, but
the threat drips off her tongue, and also explains why she’s here. If you want to use tenure as leverage, the personnel director for the district would be the one to deliver the message.

“
I certainly would never dream about doing anything that would hamper my chances at tenure,” I reply with a smile. I recognize that getting tenure after all this is pretty much out of the question. I’d be kidding myself to think otherwise.

“We are getting off the subject. Michael, these
students’ parents want you fired. Can you give me a good reason why we shouldn’t remove you from your position?” Howell asks smugly in a desperate attempt to salvage this meeting.

“Sure. Not one of them said I should be fired when I talked to them a couple of hours ago.”

“Uh, I …”

“In fact, the only comment about me that could even be construed as negative came from Brian’s mom who
blamed me for not telling him to download the Beatle’s White Album for her.”

Charlene smiles and leans back in her chair. Everyone seems to be at a loss for words before she breaks the silence. “Could you all excuse us for a moment?
I would like to talk alone with Mister Bennit. If you are comfortable with that, of course,” she adds, nodding at me. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not the kind of guy who hides behind a useless union rep, or even my benevolent department chair.

“Certainly, ma’am.”

The others evacuate the room, including Howell who didn’t seem eager to get off his ass and leave. Once the door closes to her office, Charlene gets out of her chair and sits on the corner of her desk.

“That was interesting,” she observes. “Nearly everyone in this room wanted your head on a platter.”

“So I noticed. Oh well, less Christmas cards to send out this year.”

“You’re an enigma, Michael. A rare breed of educator who manages to thrive in a system he otherwise hates. I suppose if you were to ever win this thing, life in Washington wouldn’t be much different.”

She looks at me for a reaction. She’s right on both counts, but I’m not feeling compelled to tell her that. I give her a little nod to the side in acknowledgement and nothing more.

She gracefully slides off the desk
and begins repositioning a potted plant on the credenza along the wall. “Your preemptive move against the school board was politically savvy, but unwise. They feel manipulated, and harbor a lot of resentment toward you because of it. Now they take it out on me.”

“I apologize for causing you any heartburn, ma’am,” I say, half meaning it. The other half wants to scream ‘that’s what you get paid for
.’

“The board I can handle,” she dismisses with a quick wave of her hand. “The parents are another thing entirely. I
field dozens of complaints a week, and no, not all of them are organized by your political enemies.” She read my mind. I bet the percentage is pretty high though.

“Ma’am, you didn’t want to talk to me alone just to tell me that.”

“Of course not. Did you know Chalice and I started teaching right around the same time?”

“No, I didn’t,” I respond, unable to hide
my surprise.

“We go way back
, and have been friends for a long time. I trust her judgment and value her opinions. She told me that your didactic approach to teaching history makes you well-respected by students and parents. You’re a brilliant teacher. Nothing I have seen gives me reason to doubt that.”

“It’s good to know Chalice speaks so well of me.”

Charlene moves back around the gargantuan oak monstrosity and sits in her chair, taking the time to carefully fold her hands in front of her. The signal is unmistakable – it is back to business. In some respects, she reminds me of a Colonel I knew in Afghanistan.

“As superintendent, I am not afforded the luxury of making decisions based on personal observations. Many good people here asked me to make
your life miserable so you will leave on your own,” she deadpans, ”but I don’t want to do that. In my professional opinion, the way press portrays the school district is an advantage to us. I sincerely hope recent events have not upset that paradigm. If that turns out to be the case, or another revelation paints this district in a bad light, I won’t be willing to protect you anymore. Do you understand?”