Chapter 15: The Academy
I went back to the same academy I entered when I first came to the White House, with the same tutor.
The academy smelled like pencil shavings and floor wax, and the old chalkboard was covered in math problems nobody wanted to solve. The building smelled of old wood and chalk, and the windows let in bright D.C. sunlight. I felt lighter, freer, like maybe things could get better here.
I took a deep breath of this free air, it really was sweet.
Because Jacob wasn’t here, the tutor didn’t have to teach the president’s lessons, so I pestered her to tell me stories.
The tutor’s stories were much more interesting than the storybooks I usually found.
She could talk about the mountains and rivers of America, and the clever stories of the marketplace.
She made even the smallest tales feel big, painting the Midwest and the coasts with her words. I closed my eyes and imagined walking through the Rockies or shopping in a street fair in Atlanta.
On the fifth day of her stories, the former First Lady caught us.
I was scolded by the former First Lady and wasn’t allowed to eat dinner.
Her scoldings were legendary—stern, precise, and always ending with a promise that I’d do better next time. I sulked, stomach growling.
In the evening, Jacob came, swaggering in with a takeout bag.
I grabbed him and scolded him for being so blatant. If the former First Lady found out, I’d be scolded again.
Jacob laid out the food from the bag on the table, and the bowls clinked together crisply.
He winked at me, like we were partners in crime. For a moment, the room felt like our secret clubhouse.
I glared at him to be gentle.
He impatiently called me an idiot.
Seeing all my favorite dishes, I decided not to argue with him.
As I ate, I realized the food tasted just like that from the former First Lady’s kitchen.
I nervously asked Jacob, "She doesn’t know, right?"
Jacob replied very impatiently, "She doesn’t know."
I focused on eating, and Jacob said again, "Natalie, you really are an idiot."
I suppressed my temper and humbly asked, "Why do you say that?"
He didn’t answer me again. What a strange person.
He gave me a sideways look, then smirked. I decided maybe being strange was just his way of saying he cared.