Chapter 9: Life in the East Wing

Now I had to read, write, and learn manners every day. I couldn’t even ask Lily to help me with reading and writing like at home.

Jacob Brooks wouldn’t help me, because he ignored me completely, which meant I couldn’t slack off at all. It was very annoying.

Oh, Jacob Brooks is the president’s only son, that handsome older boy.

He always kept to himself, head buried in his books or following the First Lady through endless meetings. I wondered if all kids in the White House were so serious.

Every day I was so tired from studying, writing, and learning etiquette that I had no energy to think about going home.

One day, Jacob went to accompany the president, so the tutor told me stories instead of teaching lessons.

Most importantly, there were my favorite pecan pies on the academy’s desk.

As I wolfed them down, I flattered the tutor with a smile, "Ms. Carter, you are the best teacher in the world."

The tutor’s stories were very interesting. Normally I would be very engaged, asking over and over what happened next.

But that day I just couldn’t concentrate, and in the end, I didn’t even know how the story ended.

The sweet taste of pecans faded as homesickness crept in. I fidgeted, staring out the window, searching for something familiar.

Later, Mrs. Murphy came to get me. As I walked down the corridor to my bedroom, I thought I saw mom and Lily, but when I blinked they were gone. I asked nanny if she saw Lily and mom.

Nanny said, "No, maybe it was too dark and I was mistaken."

Her answer was soft, but her eyes flickered with worry. I wondered if she saw things, too, when she was lonely.

I thought so too, but I missed mom a little. I didn’t know when she would come get me.

That night I had a nightmare. I dreamed Lily cried and asked me why I hadn’t come home yet.

Mom said the White House gates were too high, she couldn’t get in, and then Lily cried and cried and got sick.

I woke up with my pillow damp, shivering even though the covers were pulled up tight. Mrs. Murphy sat by my side, humming a lullaby, her hand resting gently on my back until I drifted off again.

The next day I couldn’t focus on my lessons, so I went to find the First Lady and said, "I miss my mom. When will she come get me?"

The First Lady said, "Study hard, write well, learn your manners, and your mom will come get you soon."

Her voice was firm, almost distant. I didn’t know if it was a promise or a rule.

I said, "First Lady, can you send me to my mom?"

The First Lady said, "I can’t. The White House walls are too high. Once you’re First Lady, you can’t leave."

Her words sat heavy in my chest, like stones in my pockets. I wondered if she ever missed her own mom, or if she’d forgotten what that felt like.

Mom taught me not to make things difficult for others, so I went back to studying.

Jacob still didn’t like to talk to me. Every time he came back from being with the president, he looked even sadder.

At first, I wanted to keep my promise to dad and comfort him, maybe hug him. But he refused every time, so I didn’t really want to comfort him anymore.

I scribbled my lessons, watched the rain streak the windows, and tried to imagine a way out. But the White House felt bigger—and lonelier—than ever.