Chapter 6 - Joe's Interview

                                    

                                          
"You dum dum!" Lincoln shouts at you.
                          
"Is that the best insult you could come up with?" you retort.
                          
"What about 'blathering teenager'? 'Incompetent eel'? Beta tendencies! Four score and something years ago, I used to be respected!"
                          
"Well maybe you shouldn't have died."
                          
He stares at you with his mouth gaped open. You almost begin to think that was too harsh. He retracts, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. "You're right."
                          
You sigh. "Look, you're not the most helpful. Not as helpful as you think you are. I understand you're 'improving'," you make sure to add air quotes, "but trying to convince me to be someone I'm not is not really helpful."
                          
"Well look at the marijuana calling the kettle African-American!"
                          
"What?"
                          
"Politically correct verbiage!" He groans. "I just-- this is hard. It's hard not to be alive."
                          
"Then what did you do before you even met me?"
                          
"I stared at my grave, then my memorial, and rated the people who came there out of ten. It got boring after a century, but I didn't have much of a choice. And then I went to other landmarks like the Pyramids, Eiffel Towel, Big Ben and rated those people. The art isn't lost on me. Guy right there is an easy 5.3. Kind of in your number bracket."
                          
You furrow your brow. "You're... strange. But I guess it's not completely your fault."
                          
"Yet, here you are still trying to defile me."
                          
"I'm... sorry?"
                          
He gives a sad smile and turns away from you. "Yes, I've finally gaslighted them into thinking I didn't choose to be this way," he mutters under his breath.
                          
"What did you just say?"
                          
"Uh... solid 9.3 incoming!" He disappears from your sight, and you can't stop yourself from searching through for the 9.3, effectively falling for his diversion. You easily locate them in the form of a tall boy with short brown hair and a bright smile wearing a letterman jacket. He's surrounded by groups of people who flock through the hallway.
                          
You hurry out of the way as they march through. You catch another glimpse of him and realize it's Joseph Biden, and he's next on your interview list. It seemed you'd have to devise an elaborate plan to get to him seeing as he carried around a hefty entourage.
                          
The next morning, you head into Yearbook class before checking out for the morning. JFK greets you with a broad smile. "How are things going?"
                          
"Better, I guess."
                          
"Good to hear. I'm sure you're just knocking things out of the park."
                          
"And how's your page organizing or whatever going?"
                          
"Well, pretty well. But it's not the worst of it, I'm afraid. Pre-order season is a nightmare."
                          
"Oh right. I forget that we do yearbooks and all." To be honest, that was the least of your worries.
                          
He gives a small chuckle. "Don't forget the point of all this or else I'll have to fail you."
                          
You laugh, but your face falls. "You're serious?"
                          
"No, of course not! You're a hard worker, like me, I'd never fail you."
                          
"Oh. Thanks?"
                          
"No problem. Get at it today!"
                          
You nod and head out of the classroom. It was now time to locate Joseph Biden. You'd learned that he was on the football team, but when you went outside, the football team was nowhere in sight.
                          
You sigh as you wander about the athletic hallway. You pause just outside the weight room door where you see several guys, many of them shirtless, lifting weights in there. Among them, you spot Joseph laughing with the others. You don't really want to intrude on them, as that would be awkward.
                          
Thankfully, they begin filing out, and you become aware of the fact that you actually have to talk to him. He was just like any other interview, it was fine.
                          
You watch them head out of the weight room, and you call out Joseph's name to get his attention. It's like each one of them turns to you with the same curious expression, and you want to sink into the ground.
                          
"Er, I'm supposed to be interviewing you because you're running for President," you say.
                          
He nods. "Oh, yeah, totally."
                          
He exchanges a few words with some of the others before heading over to you with a smile. He's intimidating, but not even in a scary way. "I haven't seen you around before. You're new?"
                          
"Yeah, I'm y/n."
                          
"Joseph, but Joe is fine."
                          
"You have quite the entourage."
                          
He laughs. "I guess so. Lots of people seem to know me well."
                          
"I guess that'll help your chances."
                          
"I guess so. Let's start?"
                          
"Of course." You take out your things and begin asking him questions. "What made you decide to run for president?"
                          
"Uh, I just thought it'd be a cool thing to do. My friends and players on the football team were encouraging me to run, because they promised they'd all vote for me."
                          
"I... see. What are important issues you'd like to address?"
                          
"Uh... that's not really something I've thought about. But I guess helping students have better access to learning materials. Not everyone has that privilege, I guess."
                          
"How will you increase the awareness of the significance of your position to a wide range of students?"
                          
"Well, most of them know me, so it shouldn't be difficult. A lot of people already respect me, I'm pretty popular on and off the field."
                          
You nod slowly. You attempt to ask him another question, but you shake his head. "Is running for President something you really want to do?"
                          
"Oh, I thought we already did this question."
                          
"No, no, this isn't part of this, I'm just asking you."
                          
He stares at you for a moment before sighing. "I mean, I'd make a good candidate, right? A lot of people know me, respect me, doesn't it make sense?"
                          
"But is this something you want to do?"
                          
"I have to," he mutters. "I'm... my father was the President when he was at this school, and he wants me to follow in his footsteps. But it's not that big of a deal. It can end up being fine, it won't be difficult."
                          
"I'm pretty sure becoming President of the school is a big responsibility."
                          
"And it's one I'm willing to take." This time, his answer sounded a lot more certain. "But you wouldn't understand. A lot of people are counting on me."
                          
"And a lot of people are counting on me to get this interview in."
                          
"And are you doing these because you chose to?"
                          
You pursed your lips. You weren't really, just for the credits, but now it was kind of fun, the highlight of your tedious day. "I learned to like it, I guess."
                          
He gives you a small smile. "I can learn to do the same then. Maybe I'm not the most qualified, but I think that being someone who knows the school well will give me a good standing as President and help me work well in improving the school."
                          
"That's not part of the questions, but I'll include that."
                          
"Thank you." He looks you over. "You're cool, y/n. I gotta run, but maybe I'll see you around."
                          
"Maybe." You shrug.
                          
He nods before disappearing down the hall, and you head back to class.