Growing Up Hobart: the Politician

1

Payton Hobart wrestled with the light blue comforter on his bed one morning, the sunlight just beginning to peak through the blinds of his immaculate bedroom. He was experiencing a dream so incredible that it had begun to make him stir. The young boy saw himself on a stage, with bright lights, cameras, and cheering crowds in front of him. He opened his eyes and sat straight up in bed.

"I'm going to be president of the United States."

Ambition, excitement and determination began to fill the boy. Even at the young age of seven, the task did not appear daunting in any way. Nothing could stop seven year old Payton from his newfound dream.

He was going to be president of the United States.

He sat stiff in his bed, grinning and dreaming, until the bell for breakfast rang. Payton ripped the covers off and scampered down the stairs, beating his brothers Martin and Luther by a mile. Since being adopted by the Hobart family, he had begun to learn ways to dodge the taunting of the slightly older and intimidating duo.

Today, what was driving him was a nine word mantra he repeated in his head.

I'm going to be president of the United States.

I'm going to be president of the United States.

I'm going to be president of the United States.

Payton ran down the hall, a skip in his step, and around to the kitchen. The Hobart family may have eaten in the dining room, but it never stopped their youngest from making a pit stop in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Payton" the cook said, smiling down at him. Juliet was a middle-aged woman with a kind face and short black hair. Payton admired her skills in the kitchen and her demeanor.

"Good morning, Juliet!" Payton exclaimed happily in response. Martin and Luther preferred to not acknowledge Juliet unless they had a request, or demand, for her. Payton frowned upon his brothers' behavior, which is why he felt especially compelled to make friends with everyone in his house. Well, everyone but Martin and Luther, of course.

"Did you sleep well?" Payton asked, respectfully.

"Yes, thank you, Payton. Did you?"

"Yes, Juliet. And I had the best dream before waking up! I'm going to be the president one day!"

"Wow," Juliet remarked, catching the boy's contagious excitement. "Of what, a company?"

"No," Payton paused for a moment, "of the United States!"

Juliet looked at Payton, unsure of what to say. She knew he was extremely young to lock into any major decision, but she also knew that he had an extreme level of ambition. After a moment, she smiled, and spoke a short sentence which made Payton's morning.

"You have my vote, Payton."

The boy jumped up and down, and put up his hand to high five Juliet before heading to the dining room. The dark wood table was intimate without the center leaves that were installed for guests. At the heads of the table sat his mother and father. Payton took his usual seat across from Martin, who had Luther seated to his left.

"Good morning, Payton," the boys' mother Georgina said with a sweet smile.

"Morning, mama!" Payton responded, grinning. Martin glared at Payton before cutting into his omelette.

"Morning Pee-ton" Luther remarked, snickering. Martin laughed quietly along, trying to join in on his twin's antics.

"Your immaturity never fails to amaze me," Payton shoots back with wit and a degree of calmness in his voice.

After a moment, Martin jumps into the conversation, exclaiming "you're seven!"

"Well that's a wise come-back if I've ever seen one, dummy," Luther said, sneering at his twin. The two boys began to bicker and swat at each other, and Payton sat quietly with his hands in his lap, his eyes mirroring those of his mother and father - wide in shock.

"Boys... Boys!" Georgina raised her voice. The two stopped in their tracks and looked up at their mother.

"What?" They both questioned in sync, acting as if nothing had just occurred. Keaton Hobart, their father, paused his eating, and stared at his sons in horror. Payton had not even touched his meal yet, as he was too busy observing the scene, the mix of concern on shock growing on his face.

"Can you go one moment of the day without your nonsense?" Georgina asked, annoyed. Martin and Luther said nothing, and sat frozen like deers in the headlights.

They would never be presidents, Payton thought and smirked to himself before taking a bite of toast.

"Why is he so happy?" Martin remarks, a look of disgust on his face as he gestured to Payton, who looked overly content.

"No reason," Payton replied and paused to take a sip of his orange juice. "Just politics."

"Politics? You don't know anything about politics."

"Well, according to your report card, I know more about politics than you do, Luther." Payton's wit was off the walls this morning. Luther looked with his jaw dropped at the young boy's remark.

"Why are you looking at my report cards?"

Payton said nothing. He had run out of things to say. His winning streak had just come to a halt, and in having a feeling that he knew what was coming next, he slowly scooted his chair away from the table. Luther was fuming, and Payton was beginning to tremble.

"Boys," Georgina warned, but Luther did not listen. Payton prepared to run, mentally mapping out his escape route. He could see Luther becoming angrier as each second passed - he would erupt any second.

"I'm going to kill you," Luther half shouted. Payton hopped up and started by making a lap around the table, knowing Martin wouldn't get involved. He could hear the shouts of his mother and father, but they seemed so distant. Payton was panicking, but he had to stay on task, for this appeared as a moment of life or death. He swung around the hallways and to the front of the house, where Juliet was opening the door. Payton's eyes were blurring, but he couldn't let Luther get a hold of him. Luther was not one to exaggerate in his threats.

Payton ran towards Juliet and the open door, and saw a young boy standing in the doorway, talking to Juliet as she welcomed him. Payton's eyes widened at the sight of the figure, and his instincts drove him to run to the visitor, to seek for safety.

In his mad dash towards the doorway, he shouted the name of the boy, his voice shrill with fear.

"RIVER!"