Trophy Kid Read Online Free PDF Page B

wanted to escape his smell.
    “Go ahead, Joe,” Robert said.
    I did as I was told but listened to their conversation as I rolled the truck back and forth along the wood floor. Even at six going on seven, I was amazed at how oblivious adults were to the fact that kids pay attention to everything.
    “With your help, Bob, the future is going to be very bright for the party,” Morgan said behind his desk.
    I tried to figure out whose party we might be going to later that day.
    “I’m here to help get funding for those relief organizations, that’s all,” Robert said.
    “Said like a true politician,” Morgan laughed. “Of course, you know that I can do a lot more for these organizations from the Oval Office.” The senator winked.
    “You just tell me where to be and when,” Robert said smoothly.
    “And your Hollywood friends?”
    “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “Good. I knew I could count on you,” Morgan said, rising from his chair. “And you know when the time comes, the party will be there for you, too.”
    Was a party coming to our hotel room that night? I wondered.
    The two men shook hands.
    “See you this afternoon,” Morgan said.
    Robert called to me, “Come on, Joe, let’s go.”
    Later that afternoon we were in a large room, sitting at a table facing a row of senators. Behind us were reporters and spectators.
    “Would you mind answering a question for me, Joe?” a senator with a thick Southern accent asked.
    I looked at Robert, who had told me beforehand what I would be asked and how I should respond. He nodded to me that it was okay.
    “No, sir,” I said.
    Robert had coached me to say “sir” to any of the senators who addressed me.
    “Very polite, I like that,” the senator said. “Those of us from the South put a lot of value in manners. It shows respect for yourself and others.” The Southern senator leaned forward. “Joe, if you had one wish, what would it be?”
    “To see my mom,” I said. “I mean my other mom.” I looked at Robert, who gave me a slight, approving nod.
    “Of course,” the senator said, taking off his glasses. “Joe, like you, I lost my parents at a young age. I was lucky and had an aunt and uncle who took care of me. You’ve been lucky, too, having new parents who love and care for you. But not all children are as lucky as you and me. So if you had one more wish for other orphans, son, what would it be?”
    “That they could be lucky, too, sir,” I said, as rehearsed. A flurry of flashbulbs went off.
    “Thank you, son,” the Southern senator said, putting his glasses back on. “Thank you for your bravery and your good heart.”
    The “that they could be lucky, too” clip was on all the news programs that evening, and before long the Senate approved a 25 percent increase in spending to poverty-relief organizations around the world. But even though some good came out of my performance, looking back, I felt like a little of Senator Morgan’s oil had dripped onto me.

    After checking in to our hotel, Tom and I spent the day going to monuments and museums. Robert was meeting with some lobbyists, while Greta and Guava were having tea with the First Lady.
    “What’s your favorite place in D.C.?” Tom asked on our way to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall.
    “The Air and Space Museum. I like looking at the capsules and space suits from 1960s when we put men on the moon. The chief of NASA led Robert and me on a tour of the museum once. I think I was about five years old. NASA was having trouble getting money for the space program, and one of Robert’s senator friends from Texas wanted to make sure the agency got all the money they needed to explore Mars.”
    Tom was flabbergasted as I described the way Robert carefully prepped me before the tour.
    “Okay, Joe, listen to me,” Robert had said. “When we’re in the room with the
Friendship Seven
capsule, the man from NASA is going to ask you a question. Are you listening to me?”
    “Uh-huh,” I