Diplomat High

Chapter 5 - Hillary's Interview

You weren't even half way through all of the interviews, but you couldn't deny, you were starting to love them. They incited this giddiness that you'd last gotten in 7th grade when a guy had helped pull the gum out of your hair that him and his friends had tossed in there. What a time to be alive.

You sigh as you lay on a couch in the library during your off period. You couldn't believe you had a whole school year to attend here. The work swamped you, and you knew you should be doing it right now, but you just needed a break.

"Working or hardly working?" Abraham jeers as he struts towards you. "I just learned that new phrase today. I think it accurately describes America's working class and the constant class battle of 'act your wage' and 'work harder not smarter'."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You've been reading, huh?"

"Of course! I'd never let you down, y/n."

"A little too late for that."

"Oh whatever. And what are you doing right now? For once I wanted solitude in the library, but here you are stealing my fresh air."

You glower at him. "You're invisible to everyone but me."

"Says you. Don't pretend to know my struggles."

You shake your head, rubbing your temples. He plops down next to you. "Something wrong? Did the interview turn out bad? I was too distracted by all the little set pieces." He frowns. "I still wish I could touch one of them."

"No, it wasn't bad... it was great in fact. But that's the thing, everyone's interview has been great, albeit mostly unfinished. And they're all splendid people so far. I think all of them would make a great President."

He stares at you for a moment before grinning. "Oh, I get it."

"What?"

"You didn't expect to like any of them, did you? You were hoping you could root for one of them, and that would be it?"

You press your lips together. He was kind of accurate. You never really expected to like anyone at this pretentious school. And then you were reminded that you were conducting their interviews, which could very well affect the results. Despite only meeting three of them---four if you included JFK---they all made formidable candidates. And... formidable interests.

You sigh. "I guess. They're all... decent so far."

"Mhm, 'decent'. Regardless, how about you take a more of a professional approach? Put a distance between you and them. Even be rude, like you are to me, if you have to. Your job's to be impartial, right?"

"I guess so." You didn't really wanna take advice from Abraham Lincoln, but you were very desperate.

"Who've you got up next?"

You glance at your list, which is sitting on your backpack, even though you've memorized the list by now. "Hillary Clinton."

He gives a short, devious chuckle, rubbing his hands together. "This one should be easy."

"Why do you say that?"

"Aht aht, no hints from me. Just go talk to her. She's right there."

You follow his gaze towards a library table where a girl with short, dark-blonde hair with her forehead scrunched sits at a table, glancing between a book and writing on a paper. You stare at her for a moment, and Abraham claps his hands in your face. "Nope, we're not doing that. Remember, be tough and firm! Tough and firm!"

"Tough and firm," you reiterate under your breath.

You stand with your things and march over to her. You drop your things on the space beside her, and she flinches slightly at the sound. You want to apologize immediately at her surprised expression, but you have to remember, tough and firm.