Chapter 5: The Birthday That Changed Everything
The day after dad returned was our birthday. The First Lady summoned mom to bring us to the White House to celebrate.
That morning, Mom’s hands shook as she zipped us into our best dresses—matching blue corduroy with white tights. She tried to keep her voice cheerful, but I could tell she was rattled. There was a big, official-looking envelope on the kitchen table, stamped with the presidential seal. It made the whole day feel too grown-up.
Mom looked very unhappy, probably because the birthday party she’d worked so hard to prepare couldn’t be held.
She tried to play it cool, but her eyes kept darting to the deflated balloons in the living room. I could hear her sighing when she thought we weren’t listening. There was something in her face that made me want to hug her tighter than usual.
I don’t really like the First Lady, because every time she sees Lily and me, she always asks, "Which one of you is Natalie Thompson?"
My stomach always twisted when she asked, like I was about to flunk a test I didn’t even study for. It always happened the same way. We’d walk in, clutching each other’s hands, and the First Lady would give us that look—the one adults use when they think you’re up to something. I’d feel the back of my neck prickle.
Whenever she asks, my mom immediately stands up straight and answers, "Madam First Lady, the older is Natalie Thompson, the younger is Lillian Thompson."
It was like a script Mom had to memorize. She delivered it with a practiced smile, but I could always hear the strain in her voice, like she was bracing herself for a pop quiz.
At this, the First Lady would frown and look us over, saying, "Sarah, are you really sure you can tell your two daughters apart?"
Mom would reply, "Sometimes, it’s a little hard to tell."
The First Lady’s eyes would linger, measuring us up. It felt like being a book she didn’t want to finish reading. I always stood a little taller, hoping that maybe this time she’d believe us.
Mom always said lying was wrong, but here she was, fibbing right in front of the First Lady. I wondered if the White House had its own set of rules.
The contradiction made my stomach twist. I caught Lily’s eye—she was biting her lip, confused. I wondered if all grown-ups had to lie sometimes, or if it was just something you did in the White House.