Mr. Prime Minister

Chapter 8

Alright, almost done. Just...

I eyed my wrist watch and winced.

Ok, time's not important as the quality of said time.

So what Da was squeezing the Prime Minister about politics? And education? And finance? And the problem regarding terrorists and anarchists? S'all good. It's not like he is embarrassing me! Or making the man mad!

"Excuse me, but I disagree." Da frowned "We are trying to give our students the best education possible. Truth is, with thirty kids in my class – sixth form kids – it's impossible to make that class be anything productive."

"We are currently working on a re-structured motion regarding school quality" Charles Whitehall explained my Da patiently.

"I'm all forward re-evaluating the teachers as well." Da agreed with a shrug "But the problem starts lower, it's deeper. We still favour social isolation."

"I disagree." Charles frowned, like he was offended "Our education serves all races, creeds and social stratum."

"Yes, some better than others" Da assured him with a snort.

I grabbed Gavin's whisky and took it quickly, gulping it down like it was water – my friend raised his brow at me.

"We still favour higher classes, immediately disregarding the students with real troubles."

"It's impossible to help everyone, Mr Summers. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"Let me guess. You came from a top school?" Da asked, and I started to sweat "Both my girls went to local public schools, where they had to share the teachers with twenty eight or nine other students in each class. Most times, those teachers supported a total of a hundred or more students. Now, tell me, in all honesty, if you consider both of you had the same quality of education."

I brushed my forehead and prayed someone – something! – would stop this never-ending political disagreement.

"Let's cut the cake!" Mum put in, grabbing Da's elbow and pulling him away to the table.

Thank you, Mum!

***

My nerves were beating me from the inside. I was tense and jumpy. I mean, walking around my neighbourhood's garden with the Prime Minister – Tyler nearby, keeping security tight –, wasn't exactly something I used to do every weekend night.

"Sorry about my Da." I sighed, patting my short hair "He's very... well, he's kind of a crusader."

"Don't' apologize." He frowned "People should always fundament their opinions as hard as your father. I believe the world would be a lot smarter if they did."

I looked down at my boots.

"Besides, I really had a good time. I've only met two kinds of people in my life: those who discard me and hate me completely, and those who kiss my butt." He shrugged "Your father treats me like any other person: he disagrees with me on some points and agrees with others. He treats me like a person, not a public figure. Same as you do."

"You're wrong." I chuckled "I treat you like the Prime Minister."

"No, you treated me like any other patient, back in the pharmacy" He shrugged.

"That's because I wasn't given the opportunity to behave like any other person" I assured him with a shrug of my own.

"Something I'm incredibly glad for." He muttered under his breath, my heart jumped to my throat and not even a forced swallow helped "Look, Alice, the reason I came to see you tonight..." He rubbed his wrinkled forehead "I needed to see someone who doesn't hate me, right now."