Not Afraid of Life by Bristol Palin Read Free Book Online Page B

parades were thrown, and my mom kicked off her gubernatorial run in our living room.
    That meant that suddenly our weekends became very full. Every Saturday, we’d load up in Mom’s Jetta and head out on long road trips. When we arrived at our destination—we made name tags, blew up balloons, and stole a few Murkowski signs off people’s lawns. (Sorry, Mom! Sorry, Governor Murkowski!) We were—as always—working on a limited budget, so we’d frequently spend more money on gas than we’d make at the fund-raiser. That’s because Alaska is so gigantic that some of our in-state trips would take seven hours, then we’d turn around and come back to save money on hotels. But we did get to see most of our beautiful state. Frequently, we’d see bear, moose, buffalo, and sometimes wolves walking across the roads or grazing nearby. Some of the roads were built over permanently frozen ground. When the hot pavement was poured, it melted the ground, which caused the ground to “heave” from side to side as well as front to back. This meant that some roads were like roller coasters, with dips sometimes a foot deep! They could wreak havoc on your car . . . and stomach, after too much ice cream.
    In spite of all these low-budget road trips, Mom had learned from her lieutenant governor loss to do things right this time. Her two themes were simple and catchy: “New Energy for Alaska” and “Take a Stand.” Plus, she set up a nice campaign office in Anchorage on Fifth Street. One weekend, we loaded the car with paintbrushes, rollers, and several gallons of red paint and painted the Alaska flag on her headquarters wall. As we stood back and admired our work, everything seemed so much more official. Like always, her endeavor was a family affair. Kris Perry, one of her dear friends—and a fellow soccer mom—became instrumental as they figured out how to win the gubernatorial race. Even my great-grandmother on my dad’s side got involved in the campaign. Mom called her a “one-woman Eskimo whistle-stop tour” as she went around Dillingham and told the elders about “Todd’s wife.”
    O ur fall was consumed with starting that adventure, but right after spring break in 2006 I ran into Levi.
    “Come see me play in Fairbanks,” he said.
    “I’m already going,” I told him, trying to hide the fact that I was thrilled at his invitation. That hockey-mom thing my mom always talked about? It wasn’t a campaign tactic. She really was the manager of Track’s hockey team, which means she went to his games and cheered the young players, kept score, compiled stats, organized transportation, and put bandages on game-induced wounds. Though Fairbanks was a seven-hour drive from our hometown, I happily endured the road trip there. I watched from the stands as Levi played.
    A few days after that game, he invited me to the movies. Because we were so young, he had his dad pick me up and drop us off. After seeing a silly movie that made us both laugh, he leaned in to kiss me.
    Afterward, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “I just had to do that.”
    “Why?” I asked, a little skeptical even though I was a freshman. “So you can tell your friends?”
    “No,” he purred. “So I can sleep tonight.”
    Okay, so maybe I wasn’t skeptical enough, because that line—that cheesy line—melted my heart. The next day I was still intoxicated with new love, when I noticed he was texting someone.
    “What’s going on?” I asked. “Is that a girl you’re texting?”
    “Um, yeah,” he said. “She was asking me a question about something.”
    “Really? About what?”
    “She’s just a friend,” he said. “Ask my mom or sister. They’ll tell you.”
    This became a pattern. At first, I’d call to check out his story, but his family always backed him up. It made me feel like I was being petty and small-minded.
    Of course, he was texting a girl—because he was with that girl when I wasn’t around.
    After so much public