Diplomat High

Chapter 4 - Emmanuel's Interview

When you made it back to school, you slowly dried off during the day. You were starting to think that if you had the choice, you would have opted out of doing Yearbook, because so far you were horrible at it.

After school, you went to drop off your ruined things and see JFK at a computer, his nose scrunched at the screen. He didn't seem to notice you'd walked in. You carefully place your things down on a desk, but as you do, your recorder slips from your hand and clanks on the floor.

He jumps, swiveling around. His gaze softens when he lands on you. "Oh, y/n."

"Sorry for sneaking up on you. I should have given you a heads up."

"No, it's fine. I probably needed a break from my work anyway." He rubs his eyes.

"What are you working on?"

"Just another spread. How's the interviews going?"

You press your lips together. "Kind of awful. I lost all my progress out in the rain."

"That's just part of the job. You win some, you lose some, and we just have to move forward. Just focus on making it up in time. Don't stress yourself." He chuckles to himself. "I'm now realizing I should use that advice on myself."

You give him a small smile as you pick up new equipment. "We can both try that."

He nods. "See you tomorrow."

"You, too."

You decide you might as well attempt to finish another interview before you leave school. Next on your list was Emmanuel Macron, who you'd find in the drama club.

"Well, good afternoon, y/n," Abraham says as he floats beside you. He yawns. "You finished the Bernie interview already?"

"What do you mean 'already'? That was hours ago."

"No, it..." He purses his lips. "Wow, time flies."

"What were you even doing?"

"Well... I didn't want you to hate me for being racist, so I headed to a library to look at some books to help 'educate myself'. But it turns out I can't open them, being a ghost and all, so I'd just have to wait for someone else to do it for me and look over their shoulders. But I think I've gotten better."

"Prove it then."

"Prove it? How on earth would I prove that?"

"I don't know. Come up with something, time is ticking."

"Uh... everyone has the same insides regardless of skin color?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Okay, I guess that's something."

"Ugh, just look at your savior complex trying to change an old geezer like me."

"Savior complex?"

"Yes, I read about that in one of the books I managed to look at."

"By trying to make you non-racist--"

"Okay, okay! Context is everything, I guess. Whatever. Who's next on the list?"

"Emmanuel Macron. But I still have to redo the other interviews."

He curls his lips. "Not that French man."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's loud, ostentatious, and bright." A smile appears on his face. "Everything I adore."

You furrow your brow and decide not to press him any further, because he's already putting you at your wit's end. 

You step into the vast auditorium where you already see a selection of students on the stage and in the seats. You scan through, but you can't make anyone out from where you stand. You notice a boy in the audience has a clipboard in his hand.