Diplomat High

Chapter 10 - Vladimir's Interview

You blink at his sporadic choice of words. "That's... nice. I don't know. Maybe I'll get an interview in."

"Great, great, great work as usual. And, uh, you think we can get mine done tomorrow after school? I think I'll be too busy during the period, and I'd rather do it somewhere quiet."

"Yeah, sure, of course."

"Alright, y/n. Catch you later!"

He speeds away from you through the hall, and you shake your head. It was like everyone was behaving strangely around you lately. Maybe you'd done something wrong. You couldn't think of anything, but it still concerned you.

You yawn as you glance at your list. Vladimir was on the football team. You'd have to go down to the field to interview him.

You trudge down there through the muddy grass and see many people practicing on the field. You don't know how you'll find him, but you make your way to the sidelines anyway. 

You see a rosy cheeked man with his dark gray hair gelled up on his scalp. He has the jolliness of Santa, yet the decrepit aura of the undead. You wonder why that is.

"Excuse me, are you the coach?"

The man grins at you. "Coach Reagan, at your service. Are you hoping to join the team? You don't really have the build for it, but I'm sure the others' abilities will simply trickle down."

You have no idea what that means and furrow your brow. "Uh, not I'm not really here to--"

"You know what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I would know." He points to his elbow, where he has an anime tattoo. "This helps me remember."

"Remember? Remember what?"

"The time where I was saved by God. If I hadn't, I think I would have gone straight to hell." He laughs, and you laugh along out of fear.

"Uh, okay, sir. Do you know where Vladimir Putin is?"

"He's right there." He points a crinkled finger, and you follow his line of sight to see a burly guy standing off to the side of the formation. 

The play starts, and it's almost instant the way he moves straight towards the quarterback, past the defense, and slams into them, sending them straight to the ground. Your eyes widen. You're not sure if the quarterback plans to get up after that.

"Oh. Okay." You're definitely frightened, but you have a job to do.

Vladimir treads in your direction, pulling his helmet off, revealing his short, brown hair, and his prominent features. You're simultaneously staring at him and want to shrink into nothingness. 

He steps over to Coach Reagan and sizes him up. "Is that good enough for you?"

"It sure is! Pure hard work, unlike the drugs these dirty-- people, these people are using. But we will put an end to that." He smiles. "But now now, there's a... someone wanting to speak with you. They're over here."

Coach Reagan gestures at you, and Vladimir eyes you up in down. You shiver under his gaze. Are you frightened or did you somehow enter the tundra? Regardless, you needed to get this done.

You straighten. "Hi, Vladimir, I'm from Yearbook, and I'm here to interview you, because you're running for President."

"I see." He pulls his gloves off and places them on a bench. "We should do it up in the bleachers."

"Oh. Okay." You didn't really want to dispute that with him.

He steps ahead of you, and you follow behind him up to the bleachers. You notice a couple sitting in the seats, eating each others' faces, but the moment Vladimir treads on the platform, they quickly run off, scattering. Well, that was one way to enforce social distancing. He sits down, and you're about to sit down, but you notice a wet spot left on it from the rain.

Without missing a beat, Vladimir takes his towel from his hip and places it down, wiping the space. 

You scratch the back of your neck. "Oh. Thanks."

"No problem."

You sit next to him and start taking out your stuff. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking over you. But it doesn't feel like he's scrutinizing you as a piece of meat like you thought it would be.

"I don't think I've seen you around here. Are you new?" he asks.

"Yeah, I am." You pause. You'd been there over a week already, so technically, not really. "Kind of, mostly. I've been here for a bit, just not that long."

"I see. And what is your name?"

"I'm y/n."

He nods. "Whenever you're ready."

You fumble for your things and start with the questions. "How familiar are you with your peers?"

"Eh, I think I know them pretty well. Many of them know of me, but I suppose I could know them better."

"What made you decide to run for president?"

"I believe I am the best candidate as I have the ability to remain focused on goals and priorities."

"What are important issues you'd like to address?"

"Hm, perhaps increase the trust between the students and administration. Most of everything is student oriented and focused, but authority also exists to aid us."

"And finally, how will you increase the awareness of the significance of your position to a wide range of students?" In your mind, his intimidating frame is the best tactic.

"I will prove to them that I want to be there to advocate for them. It is better to be hanged for loyalty than rewarded for betrayal."

You nod slowly. Despite his answer being gruesome, it actually seems pretty wise. 

"Are you nervous?" he asks.

"Me? Nervous, why? Why would you ask that? I'm fine."

"You've been slowly ripping pages out of your notebook and crumbling them."

Your eyes widen as you see a crumpled piece of paper in your hand and a few others littered on the floor. You hadn't even realized you'd been doing this. Is this a new anxious habit you'd developed? You hate that you decided to start doing that right here, right now.

You quickly pick them up and stuff them in the trash can next to you. "Uh, I'm alright. I just... it's a change of atmosphere."

"It's because of me."

"No, no, you're perfectly fine!" Tread lightly, you wouldn't want to anger him.

"You're lying."

Your breath pauses in your chest, and you don't say anything, because you don't want him to call you out for lying again. 

He sighs, shaking his head. "There's little to be afraid of. I'm just like any other student."

"Yeah, I know, but you did knock that player like across the planet."

He gives a small chuckle. "I suppose you are right. It's just part of the game, however. I'm not always so..." He gestures his hand in the air as he searches for the right word.

"Menacing?"

"Yeah, sure, menacing. I wish I could prove that to you, but I can't think of anything."

"Don't worry, I believe you." It was probably more out of fear than anything.

He nods. "Thank you. You're... pleasant."

What a high praise! "Thanks."

"I should be getting back to practice now, but maybe I will see you around."

"Yeah, maybe."

He gives you something that almost resembles a smile before heading off back onto the field.