I know when to tuck tail and run. I know when not to twitch.

I love my mom, hate when she disappears.

I love when she comes home, hate when she hides inside herself.

**I hate my father, love when he puts distance between us. I hate how he treats me.

Love when he makes me feel loved.

429.

School Is My Refuge At least for today. At least, most of it. Mr. Lawler chooses elections as the topic of the day.

Guess who's front and center.

What can you tell us about your mother's political ambitions?

he asks, rather pointedly.

Has she thought beyond this election?

Is he talking like Mom as president or something? I shrug. "They're her ambitions. You should probably ask her about them."

He smiles.

Fair enough. So what about you? How do you feel about your mother running for Congress? Are you proud of her?

I really wish he would quit shining the spotlight on me.

How am I supposed to answer?

"How else would I feel, Mr. Lawler?"

My tone tells him to change the subject, and he moves on to infamous elections in the distant and not-so-distant past.

430.

I Couldn't Care Less About any election, including the one going on right now.

All I can think about is seeing Ian. We have drama today, so **

we'll get to rehearse together.

Not that I've had a lot of time **

to practice lately. I'll probably blow every line. But at least **

the romantic scenes should take on an air of definite credibility.

I'm stuck in thoughts of dramatic interpretation when the door opens.

It's some office intern, with a hall pass.

For me.

Your mom's here to pick you up.

Everyone stares as I gather my stuff.

Mr. Lawler waves me out the door **

and resentment builds inside me.

I know I'm off to be presented **

as familial bling, when all I want is to be left way alone. With Ian.

431.

Bling for a Day That's me. Photo this. Interview that. And every damn word is a lie.

**"Of course I'm very excited about my mother's prospects today...."

The whole thing fills me with dread.

"Oh yes, I think she deserves to win.

She'll work for positive change...."

For the country, if not for me.

"Well, if she doesn't win, she'll try again, I'm sure. This is her dream...."

Does she still dream? I'm not sure.

"The best part of the experience? I guess seeing politics in action. I've learned a lot...."

There is no best part of this experience.

"The worst part? Having her away so much, I suppose...."

The worst part? That she so wants to go.

432.

The Afternoon Ticks By By eight, when the polls close, the house has filled with people, good Republicans all. I swear, I'm registering Dem. That will make it just that much easier to never vote for my parents.

Daddy is up for reelection in two years, and he's sure working Mom's crowd now. He's not about to play bling when there's so much Money floating around the living room, drinking Dom Perignon and nibbling canapes.

Ranchers. Winemakers. Small business owners. Developers.

All might one day call in favors for the votes they no doubt cast today. Then there are cops.

Prison guards. Other judges.

And, oh yes, there's the mayor, a stout, youngish conservative who rubber-stamps growth-- like if he builds enough new neighborhoods, he might actually find a life partner in one of them.

433.

Conspicuously absent is Hannah, who helped pull this shindig together. Guess my big mouth made her fade into the background, at least until Mom takes off again.

In hindsight, it was amazingly stupid to delete her from this complicated equation. Idiotic.

Oh. Wait. Here she comes.

Glass in hand, Daddy glances at the new arrival.

His first reaction is to smile widely. Then he notices Mom, weaving through guests on the far side of the room, and his smile slips ever so slightly. Hannah waves, and Daddy moves toward her.

Mom misses nothing, though she doesn't miss a beat of conversation.

But when Daddy reaches Hannah's side, takes her arm, Mom starts in their direction. This evening might get interesting after all.

434.

I Angle Closer The last catfight I witnessed was my own, with Madison.

This one should prove more fun.

But, no, Mom remains the steadfast politician. She extends a hand.

So lovely to see you again. Ray?

Please get Hannah something to drink.

Too subtly for the untrained eye to notice, she extricates Hannah **

from Daddy, who ambles toward the bar like a half-trained puppy, glancing back for trainer approval.

I move even closer, knowing Mom is not about to leave things up in the air. I am so right.

I.