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emotion away and at you. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad. It’s just an empty word that hangs with you.”
    I sniffled. “Then how can you say you’re not like them?” She was still holding back, encased in weak smiles and giggles.
    “I don’t mean to be that way, but maybe it’s caught on. Heck, sometimes you have to be that way, believe it or not. Sometimes you just have to confide in someone, no matter what they’ll think of you. You gotta walk the line. Flexible, know when to make your move, that’s how you gotta be; a character you fall in love with. I’m insignificant so I can be as aloof as I want. I fit the bill everyone wants me to. Right now I want to be your friend and vice versa, yeah?”
    I nodded.
    “Then that’s what I’ll be, that’s what we’ll be. I’ve never had anybody as real as you in years. You’re not a politico at all. Anthony hardly is—which is why he faces the risk of losing. I mean, did you even know a word I was saying during dinner?”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. Hysterical, I was. “ Real”? Not me, not yet. “No, no, I didn’t,” I admitted. “I’d like to though. I’d love to learn all the political dirt from an insider, an ‘amateur spy,’” I joked and swallowed. “I bet we’re not that different. I bet we could have some fun being self-loathing Washington insiders.” I giggled. “We’ll prowl the Capitol and mess things up. We’ll wait in the weeds and take Washington by storm.”
    “Like Tippecanoe and Tyler too!” she roared.
    I shrugged, taking one of her tissues. “Yeah, whatever that means. ”
    This time, she took my hands and squeezed. “Seriously, we can do that. We can make it happen. We can be happy as low-profile Tip and Ty. They only wanted as much.”

Chapter Four
    6/8
    I slept slanted against her frame until morning, until the ambitious dialogue of yesterday faded like ashes. Though Ellie is a couple months older and infinite years wiser than me behind those old soul eyes, she moaned and clutched her stuffed lamb in sleep as if she could place her age on one hand. My Romantic friend (yes, friend) didn’t stir until nearly ten. In the meantime, I pondered how I’d phrase all my questions, if I should tell her who I really am.
    It was easy to decide against it when her fragile face fell upon my breast. She was angelic in sleep, a whole and virtuous child. Earlier, I was reluctant to play my roles in saying “Father isn’t keen on the idea of the D.C. trip.” Now, I feared even my heartbeat would tell her too much.
    When she’d arisen, however, I knew honesty was a commendable policy and path. One that should be taken in measurable steps. I started by confessing my guilt for how ill-tempered I twisted Anthony; he was mad enough to hit, honestly. “You see how this is bothersome, don’t you?” I inquired like her. This sounded as hollow as the O in my last name when I realized her father never so much as came to check-in the last few days.
    Polite, she bobbed her head in submission anyway, picking away the sticky blonde strands stuck to her mouth. Less myopic than me, she said, “Yeah, Ty, that dent isn’t good if it persists beyond the pale of Election Night, and, on a lesser scale, you won’t be able to go to the Washington Dinner with me.”
    I guess we really are Tip and Ty now. At least, until someone tips her off that I’m tied to a lie.
    Ever confused, I shook my head. “You speak so poorly of politicians. You say your dad’s different but how do you know? How will I know if mine changes?”
    Her pupils widened like a Venus flytrap. Slow and ominous. “You won’t,” she began on too much breath. “Not right away, I mean. People don’t start off bad or evil. They become that way in time. My dad’s different. They call him a ‘basement Libertarian,’ a moderator. He’s a good politician, but a better person. He’s for his party, but more for people and personal liberties. He knows what’ll work and