Chapter 10: The President’s Last Night

One night, nanny woke me up and dressed me neatly. Once I was dressed, I was wide awake. I asked nanny what was going on.

Nanny said, "It’s nothing, the president just misses you and has summoned you to talk."

Her voice was brisk, but her hands shook as she buttoned my coat. I wondered if she was scared, too.

I was a little angry at first, but thinking it was Uncle President, I wasn’t angry anymore.

Because mom said, he’s a good president, just sick, and we all need to take care of him.

Since he wanted to talk to me, I would take care of him a bit.

I squared my shoulders like Dad taught me, determined to be brave. If the president needed me, I’d do my part.

When I got to the main hall where the president was, I saw my dad.

He stood by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, the medals on his uniform catching the lamplight. My heart leapt—I wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

I wanted to rush over and have dad hug me, but Mr. Brooks blocked me.

He said, "Miss Thompson, come with me, the president is waiting for you."

His tone was formal, almost apologetic. I swallowed my impatience, forcing my feet to walk calmly like a grown-up.

Since the president was waiting, I would talk to him first, then find dad to take me home, and also say goodbye to Uncle President.

Uncle President looked even rosier than before. He looked really good today.

He saw me and called me over.

He talked to me for a long time. He said I was a good child, told me to stay with Jacob, and not to wrong myself.

His words blurred together, soft but insistent. He asked me to promise I’d be strong, that I’d take care of Jacob. His eyes never left mine.

He told me a lot, but only said a few words to Jacob, telling him he must be the best president America ever had.

Everyone in the hall was so sad, I felt sad too.

The weight in the room was suffocating. Even the paintings seemed to watch us, their faces solemn.

Later, the president asked us to leave, so he could be alone with the First Lady. Jacob held my hand and led me out of the hall.

His grip was tight, almost desperate. We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing on the polished floors.

Jacob held my hand, and we waited outside the hall for a long, long time.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly. I counted the seconds, wishing someone would say something—anything.

When dawn was breaking, the First Lady staggered out.

Her dress was rumpled, eyes rimmed red. She leaned against the doorway, struggling to catch her breath.

She said, "The president has passed away."

Everyone outside the hall cried, and I cried too.

Jacob didn’t cry, but he held my hand very tightly.

His knuckles were white, but he didn’t say a word. I wanted to comfort him, but the words stuck in my throat.

Later, the bell rang, the First Lady fainted, and chaos erupted outside the hall.

The sharp clang of the bell made everyone jump. People rushed to catch her as she fell, shouting orders into radios. I pressed myself against the wall, heart pounding.

I don’t remember how nanny took me back.

She must have scooped me up, because the next thing I knew, I was back in my room, tucked in safe beneath my quilt.

The president has passed away. The world outside the White House kept spinning, but inside, nothing would ever be the same.