Read The President's Daughter Online

Authors: Ellen Emerson White

The President's Daughter (27 page)

BOOK: The President's Daughter
11.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
“I'm sorry,” she said stiffly.
“Neal and I aren't the ones who deserve apologies,” he said.
No, probably not. Meg got up. “How angry
is
she?”
“She's more hurt than anything else.” He let out his breath. “You and I both hit below the belt, Meg. It's something we need to work on.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She opened the door. “I'll be in my room.”
The hall was empty, although she could hear a vacuum cleaner going somewhere on the east end of the floor. Inside her room, Vanessa—who had fallen asleep on her chamois shirt—woke up and stretched out a front paw, flexing her claws.
“I wish it was this time yesterday,” Meg said, Vanessa purring in response—and then swiping at her.
She was going to check her email, but took an Anne Tyler novel out of her bookcase and stretched out on her bed to read for a while. To read something
fun
, instead of stupid homework.
Sometimes, she wished she had a sister. Having a sister would probably have made it easier. Being a son of the first female President meant having a successful, courageous mother. Being the only daughter meant having something to live up to. Her mother was beautiful, a phenomenal tennis player,
President
—Meg could never do anything
as
well. It was like she was defeated before she even tried.
She flipped over onto her stomach—which annoyed Vanessa—since all she wanted to do was read for the rest of the day. Take a vacation from real life.
For weeks, if possible.
At twelve-thirty, there was a knock on the door.
“Do you want lunch?” Neal asked.
She hesitated, but then opted for cowardice. “No, thanks, I'm not hungry.”
“It's onion soup, and hamburgers, and stuff,” he said through the door.
“Thanks, but I'm not hungry,” she said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Fratricide. She got up and opened the door. “Neal, I'm just not hungry. Thanks, anyway.”
When the next knock came, she was reading a Laura Lippman mystery.
“May I come in?” her father asked.
“Uh, yeah.” She turned over, so she would be facing him.
He opened the door, dressed to go out in a dinner jacket and black tie.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“The French Embassy,” he said.
Oh. Right. There was a big dinner there tonight.
“They'll have supper ready for the three of you in about fifteen minutes,” he said. “I think we'll be home fairly late, so I'd like it if you spent some time with your brothers, instead of holing up in here all night.”
Meg nodded.
“It might be a nice idea for you to go in and say good-bye to your mother,” he said.
It was hard not to groan. “Now?” she asked.
“I think it would be a very good idea,” he said.
If she tried to argue, she wasn't going to win, so she just nodded and went down the hall. The door was open, but Meg knocked, anyway.
“Come in,” her mother said.
Meg put her hands uneasily in her pockets. “Uh, hi.”
Her mother nodded, not turning from the mirror.
“You, uh, you look nice,” Meg said.
Her mother shrugged, putting on her earrings.
This conversation definitely wasn't going very well. “I'm sorry,” Meg said.
Now, her mother turned, looking less than convinced. “Oh?”
Meg sighed. “I really am. I was upset, so I wanted to make someone else upset. I'm sorry, and I didn't mean it.”
“Okay.” Her mother picked up her brush, but lowered it. “I'm sorry I haven't always been there.”
“I told you I didn't mean that,” Meg said.
Her mother turned away, brushing her hair.
Great. One slip of the tongue—and apparently, they were never going to like each other again. She eased back towards the door, very uncomfortable. “Uh, have a good time.”
“Thank you,” her mother said. “Please keep an eye on your brothers.”
Meg nodded, they looked at each other for a very short, uneasy second—and then, Meg left the room.
SHE SPENT MOST of Sunday in her room, sometimes doing homework, but mostly reading and wasting time on the Internet. She had apologized to Steven, who thought that getting hit with cereal was funny, but her mother was still distant. It didn't seem to be blatant, or calculated, but it was definitely uncomfortable. So, Meg stayed in her room.
Going back to school was going to be terrible, too. Adam was sure to have gone around telling everyone. She wasn't sure what was worse—having people laugh behind her back, or laugh in
front
of her. Both were sure to happen.
Getting dressed on Monday morning, she thought about Scarlett O'Hara. Scarlett had been caught with Ashley once in what looked like an affair, but wasn't, and she had to go to a party that night to face all of Atlanta's society, a society that had never liked her much in the first place. So, she went looking her best, her attitude a damn-the-torpedoes sort of defiance.
Accordingly, Meg decided to attempt to look
her
best, an outfit that included her black boots, her Inaugural Day skirt, and a black velvet blazer that Beth had always insisted made her look
très chic
. Dashing, even. She also spent a long time blow-drying her hair so that it would be thick, full, and dramatic, sweeping back from her face. She even went with some mascara and lip gloss. What did she care if Adam had spread rumors all over the place.
Okay, she cared a lot—but no one else was going to know it.
She was at her locker, getting her books before her first two classes, when Josh Feldman walked by, eyes nervous behind his glasses, but smiling at her.
“H-hi,” he said, reddening at the stutter. “How was your weekend?”
Meg stiffened and concentrated on her books, not answering. What was he trying to do—get her off the rebound? See if he could burnish his reputation by tricking her into a date and making his way
past
second base? What a creep.
Josh hesitated, saw that she wasn't going to respond, and reddened more, backing away through the morning crush of students.
Except for that beginning lapse, she was careful not to be rude to anyone, but she didn't go out of her way to be friendly, either. Adam never spoke to her, and none of his male friends would make eye contact with her, either. She made a point of avoiding the opposite sex in general—which, stupidly, got her quite a few smiles from girls in her classes.
She was staring down at her math homework, most of which she was sure was wrong, since she was having some trouble grasping the correct polar coordinates, when someone sat next to her.
“Hi,” Alison said cheerfully, wearing tapered pants and a cropped wool blazer, layered on top of a slim-cut t-shirt.
Meg smiled briefly. “Hi,” she said, and looked back down at her notebook.
“What's with you and Adam?” Alison gestured up a few rows to where Adam was sitting and laughing with his friends. “I thought you guys went out on Friday.”
Meg shrugged.
“How'd it go?” Alison asked.
What, like it was any of her business? They were complete strangers, for Christ's sakes. “It was fine,” Meg said, her hands tightening on her notebook.
“Did you have a good time?” Alison asked, sounding much less sure of herself.
Yes. It was swell. Meg nodded, not looking at her.
“If you say so.” Alison flipped her own book open, rather forcefully. “Sorry I asked.”
Meg shrugged. Yeah, this was the only person at the whole damn school who had been making a genuine effort to try and get to know her—but, so what? Who needed friends, right? Everything she'd ever read said that most Presidential children had trouble fitting in; why should she be any different?
“How come you make it so hard for people?” Alison asked.
She
made it hard for people? But, points for Alison, for being a bit of a pit bull.
“Up until now, the only person you really talked to was Adam,” Alison said. “Now, you aren't talking to anyone. No wonder they think you're obnoxious.”
Whoa. “Who thinks I'm obnoxious?” Meg asked, carefully expressionless.
“It doesn't even bother you, does it,” Alison said.
Maybe it did—and maybe it didn't.
Alison nodded, and turned away with what appeared to be disgust. “Yeah, that's what I figured.”
She didn't consider herself obnoxious, but she maybe didn't consider herself to be particularly friendly, either. “It bothers me,” she said quietly. “It bothers me a lot.”
Alison slapped her book shut. “Can I tell you something?”
Meg shrugged and nodded at the same time, her hands tightly clasped together under her desk.
“Adam is just a big, conceited—well, you name it.” Alison glared at the back of his head as he said something to the group of guys around him, and they all laughed. “If the rest of us weren't scared of you, someone would have told you. I almost did after gym on Friday.”
“Why would anyone be scared of
me
?” Meg asked.
Alison looked at her, rather pityingly.
“I'm just, like, normal,” Meg said, feeling grumpy, fretful, and irritated—all at the same time. “You guys are the ones who are intimidating.”
“
We
are. Look at you today.” Alison motioned towards her outfit. “My God, you look like the cover of
Vogue
.”
Meg blushed, wishing that she'd worn sweatpants, instead. But, even if she put out a hundred percent effort, she was never going to come anywhere close to being
Vogue
-worthy. “More like
Town & Country
, probably,” she said.
Alison laughed. “Actually, yeah. Good call.”
Not that
Town & Country
had been her intent. Meg ran her pen slowly down the spiral of her notebook. “At home, I used to wear just jeans and sneakers and all.”
“No shirts?” Alison asked, grinning.
Meg shook her head. “No, I don't like shirts much.”
“Come on now, settle down, everyone,” their teacher was saying, sounding very annoyed.
Alison shot a note over, and Meg picked it up, unfolding the paper.
“Are you really quiet and bookish?” it asked.
Meg thought about that, then scribbled, “Sometimes,” and flicked the paper back.
It returned almost immediately.
“Me, too,” it said.
 
SO, AT LUNCH, she sat at the same table where she had been all along. Adam was across the room with a bunch of football players, and she found herself with a group that was mostly female, and—mostly—friendly. Nathan was there, too, his girlfriend, Phyllis, keeping her arm through his, and Josh Feldman sat at the far end of the table with Zachary.
Meg watched him eat, wondering if maybe he wasn't one of Adam's friends, after all. Maybe he was just a bundle of nerves. She shouldn't have been so—well—
obnoxious
to him.
He looked up and met eyes with her, his left hand promptly knocking over his milk. He flushed, blotting it up with some napkins.
“But, no one's scared of you,” Alison muttered next to her.
“He's not scared of me,” Meg said.
Although she kind of had a feeling that he
was
.
When the bell rang, she managed to get over next to him as he threw away his lunch bag.
“I'm sorry about this morning,” she said. “You just caught me at a bad time.”
“No, I'm sorry,” he said, not looking at her. “I didn't mean to—”
She shook her head. “You didn't.
I
did. Please don't take it personally.”
“Oh, I-I didn't,” he said, his gaze a little to her left. “I mean, it's okay.”
“Well, I'm really sorry,” she said, and they both nodded, and went their separate ways.
After school, she walked with Alison down the hall towards the section of junior lockers, with Marcy—today's trail agent—behind them.
“Do you play tennis or run or anything?” Alison asked.
“Yeah,” Meg said. “I, uh, play some tennis.” And it had been almost nine months, so she
wasn't
still pissed off that she'd lost in the semi-finals of the MIAA Tournament.
“Oh, right.” Alison grinned. “Guess I read that somewhere. Anyway, I'm not that good, but do you maybe want to play sometime this week?”
She
always
wanted to play tennis. “Yeah—” Meg stopped, sighing. “I mean, I'm sorry, but I can't.”
“Oh.” Alison looked embarrassed. “Well, okay. It was just an—”
“I kind of got grounded,” Meg said. “I was a jerk this weekend, and I got slammed with two weeks.”
“Wow.” Alison mulled that over. “I never would have thought that they—two weeks, hunh?”
Meg nodded. “Unless I can talk him down.”
“Do you think you can?” Alison asked.
Probably not. “Maybe. But—” Meg hesitated, not sure if this was going to be too forward. “Well, it's still mostly too cold to play, but maybe you'd like to come over sometime, anyway. I'm going to be like,
trapped
there, for a while.”
“Would that be okay?” Alison asked. “I mean, are you allowed?”
“Sure,” Meg said. “And if you come with me after school, you won't even have to go through a big production at the gate or anything.” She didn't
think
.
Alison nodded. “Okay, that sounds good. Let's do it later this week, maybe. Although we have this junior class community service thing coming up, and Gail said for me to ask you, if you maybe wanted to help out with the planning committee.”
The school was really big on community service, and everyone in the student body was required to volunteer for a certain number of hours regularly. “Sure,” Meg said, definitely interested. “How come she didn't ask me herself?”
Alison just grinned and shook her head.
 
SO, THINGS AT school were getting much better. She was mortified every time Adam walked by, but he made a point of avoiding her, too. Which meant that her main problem switched from school—to her mother. It wasn't even that they weren't speaking, or anything obvious, but it was like those months during the campaign when they had gotten into so many fights and had to concentrate on being careful with each other. Conversations were a major effort.
Of course, being President meant that Meg didn't see her all that much, anyway. The first few months of any President's term were considered the honeymoon, so that the new President could get used to the job, and that meant that it was a great time to get a lot of policy ideas through Congress quickly. Plus, there was a state dinner coming up, a summit meeting with world leaders in Geneva in about a
month, Cabinet members and aides all over the place advising and briefing—there was a lot going on.
On the nights when her parents didn't have to make any appearances, and didn't have company, her mother usually worked straight through dinner—or just came upstairs briefly, and then hurried back down to the Oval Office or her private study to put in a few more hours. Meg hated to look out the West Sitting Hall window at the lights on in the Oval Office late at night, and think of her mother bent over her desk, practically killing herself to run the country. They were all supposed to be going up to Camp David soon, so that she could get a short break, but so far, it seemed to be an idea that her father kept suggesting—and her mother just ignored.
But, it was more than the fact that she was so damned busy. The only time she ever seemed to come near Meg's room was when she thought Meg was asleep. Twice, Meg had been awake, but hadn't moved, afraid to start anything. She couldn't stand the idea that it was going to be like this for the rest of their lives, but it was certainly starting to seem that way.
It was Sunday, and she was watching a movie in the solarium with Steven, when it occurred to her that if her mother was down in the Oval Office, her father was probably alone, and she could talk to him.
“Where you going?” Steven asked, as she got up. “You're going to miss like, the most excellent part.”
“I'll be right back,” she said.
She went down to the second floor, where she found her father in the Yellow Oval Room, deep in a book.
“Uh, Dad?” she asked.
He lowered the book.
“Are you busy, or can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.
He gestured towards the couch. “I bet I know what this is about.”
BOOK: The President's Daughter
11.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Sword of Bheleu by Lawrence Watt-Evans
Truth and Bright Water by Thomas King
The Dragon Hunters by Christian Warren Freed
Rules for Life by Darlene Ryan
Broken Moon: Part 1 by King, Claudia