The Kid Who Became President by Dan Gutman Read Free Book Online Page B

things for America, won’t that improve my image?”
    Lane snorted. It was the snort he always snorts when I say anything he thinks is horribly naive.
    â€œI’ve got some ideas that will improve your image,” Lane said, pulling out a notebook. “Do you play golf?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œHow about jogging?”
    â€œI hate jogging.”
    â€œWell, I want you to take up golf and jogging.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked. “Because all presidents golf and jog,” he explained. “If you want to look presidential, you’ve got to lose that skateboard and get a set of golf clubs. Also, we need to give you a unifying vision.”
    â€œA unifying vision? What’s that?”
    â€œIt’s a meaningless expression that sums up your presidency in three words or less. Kennedy had ‘Camelot’ and ‘New Frontier.’ Johnson had ‘The Great Society.’ Reagan had ‘Morning in America.’ You need something like that. What do you think of ‘New Millennium’?”
    â€œI hate it,” I replied.
    â€œIt will grow on you,” Lane said, checking off something in his notebook. “Next, we need to figure out a way to make an emotional connection to show the public you care about people, without actually having you go out in public.”
    â€œWhy can’t I just go out in public and show I care about people?”
    â€œBecause people might try to kill you,” he explained. “Now, in Franklin Roosevelt’s day, he used to go on the radio every week and talk directly to America. It was called a Fireside Chat. It helped pull the country through the Depression. I think we should revive this idea.”
    â€œYou want me to go on the radio?”
    â€œNo, this is the Information Age,” he said. “I have a better idea — the Fireside Tweets. Once a week, we’re going to have you go online and give ordinary citizens the chance to type questions to you. You know, have sort of an interactive conversation with America.”
    â€œThat’s a great idea,” I said. “I’ll be able to hear their problems, their concerns. I’ll be able to keep my finger on the pulse of America.”
    â€œForget about that stuff,” Lane scoffed. “The important thing is that it will make you look like you care about the people.”
    â€œI do care about the people!” I insisted.
    â€œWell, it’s more important to look like you care than it is to actually care,” Lane explained.
    â€œI’ll do both,” I said.
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    Lane said he was planning the first Fireside Internet Chat for that evening, so he had to go set things up. As he was leaving the Oval Office, Chief Usher Honeywell escorted Chelsea Daniels in.
    I hadn’t seen the First Lady since Inauguration Day. Chelsea had been spending most of her time shopping. She looked fabulous, as always. The Secret Service agents in the hall were trying to look at her without being too obvious.
    â€œHow’s it going, Moon?” Chelsea asked as she breezed in. She plopped herself down in my chair and put her feet up on my desk.
    â€œCall him Mr. President,” Lane corrected her as he walked out. “It’s a sign of respect.”
    Chelsea rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. She hadn’t been very friendly to Lane ever since he told her he wasn’t going to help her become Miss America.
    â€œTo what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Daniels?” asked Honeywell.
    â€œI was just dropping off some bills for Moon to sign,” she said as she tossed the receipts on my desk.
    â€œI have to get approval from Congress before I sign any bills,” I joked as I examined the papers. “Ten thousand dollars … for one dress?!”
    â€œIt’s an Oscar de la Renta dress,” Chelsea claimed.
    â€œThen why don’t you give it back to him?” I suggested. “You know, Chelsea,