Chapter Ten
TEN YEARS AGO
THE WHITE HOUSE
Mandy slumped at the family dining room table and pouted.
“It’s not fair.” She hadn’t expected her request to be an instant slam-dunk, but at the very least, she’d expected her parents to hear her out.
Wasn’t that what the newest leader of the free world was supposed to do?
Diplomatically listen and find a compromise.
Dad speared a slice of his roast beef with his fork, then offered the understanding look that had coaxed their nation through their grief. “Life’s not fair.”
If he had said that to the cameras after President Doddery’s heart attack, the press would have called him heartless, which was how he was acting toward Mandy right now. “You don’t understand.”
“I do, kiddo.”
She gripped the edge of the table so hard that the flesh around her purple metallic fingernail polish started to match. “There is literally no one on Earth that I want to meet more.”
Dad swallowed his food. “You mentioned that.”
Mom and Dad continued their meal as if the discussion ended, sine die. “This isn’t Congress,” Mandy pointed out. “We’re not just done talking.”
“We are, sweet pea.” Mom eyed Mandy as though she were one of her college students whispering too loudly during a lecture. “It’s time to move on.”
“No.” She stomped under the table. “I didn’t ask to meet the German Chancellor or Stanley Cup guys—”
“Come on, kiddo,” Dad tried. “Who doesn’t want to meet the Capitals?”
“Dad.” He wasn’t being rational, and she wasn’t a kid. Mandy turned to her mom. “I know you understand, don’t you?”
“You have an exam,” Mom said simply, like that stupid fact hadn’t been shared a dozen times.
“I always have exams, and I will be miserable for the rest of my life!”
“I get it. I really do.” Mom set her fork down. “But it’s time to think like a proton and stay positive—”
“Do not tell me some stupid science teacher joke!” Mandy pushed away from the table as tears stung the back of her eyes.
“I didn’t ask to be in this family. I didn’t ask to move from one stupid house into the next, or to go to that stupid school.
I never asked for any of this!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She mopped them away, smearing dark eyeliner and mascara onto her knuckles.
“My absolute favorite singer in the entire world will be here, and I can’t even stay home for the stupid luncheon to say hello. ”
Dad turned to Mom. “Any good news from the clinical trials you’re overseeing?”
“Nothing new, but we’re still hopeful.” Mom took another bite, then swallowed. “Either way, it’s great experience for the Ph.D. candidates.”
“You care more about them than me,” Mandy shouted, feeling six instead of sixteen.
“Mandy,” Mom said softly. “Sit down—”
She ran from the dining room and up the stairs.
They were so stubborn! Maybe she should’ve kept her school uniform on for dinner instead of changing into the torn jean skirt, black shirt, and Doc Martens.
The boots never seemed to make conversations with her parents any easier.
Or perhaps she shouldn’t have let them learn about her new eyebrow piercing through a tabloid the previous week.
She pulled her cell phone from the back pocket of her skirt and was storming down the center hall when a text message popped on the screen.
Some people are meeting at Jaime’s. You should come.
Drink glass emojis trailed off the screen of her notification.
Amanda stopped next to a grand piano and swiped the message open.
Tears swelled in her eyes again as she reread the message.
Her friends would have fun tonight. They’d drink.
They’d flirt with guys. Maybe they’d do more.
But like always, Amanda would be at home, surrounded by books, art, and fancy things she wasn’t allowed to touch.
Not tonight. She would join her friends. She’d be someone else. A normal teenager.
Easier said than done, though. Surveillance didn’t track the family through the residence, though the Secret Service kept tabs. After stopping by her bedroom to fix her makeup, she set off to escape.
Mandy hadn’t made it to the first floor before Agent McNally fell into line behind her.
She didn’t exactly have a plan and decided the best course of action was simple bullheaded determination.
She walked through the halls as if there weren’t an agent trailing behind.
They weren’t her babysitters and couldn’t tell her what to do.
Their jobs were simple: ward off the bad guys who thought that killing the First Daughter might send a political message.
Mandy stepped by the Marine who stood at the exterior door, then hurried onto the portico drive. An exhilarating rush tingled down her arms. Freedom had never been this easy.
She reached the north gate. The agent behind the bulletproof glass had obviously been alerted of her arrival. Unlike the Marine by the door, he didn’t act like a statue, and Mandy didn’t miss his semi-impassive expression that jumped to McNally. “Good evening, Ms. Hearst.”
“Good evening.” She tried for a casual smile, then eyed the still-locked gate.
Another second crawled by. “I’m going for a walk.
” Her stomach tied in knots. Had her parents been informed?
She’d die of embarrassment if orders were given to keep her inside the grounds.
She focused on the gate, willing it to fly off the hinges—the locking mechanism released.
Victory! She could hardly breathe. “Thanks.”
With false bravado and a wild rush of adrenaline, she stepped into the real world. A small group of tourists gawked from the sidewalk across from Lafayette Park. A businessman on his phone stumbled off the curb. Suddenly, Mandy realized how not in control she was. Just like always.
“Mandy.” McNally stepped toward her side. “Let’s head back and take a walk on the grounds.”
Mandy glanced toward the East Wing. She didn’t know how many snipers were stationed on the roof, but she was certain her unplanned stroll had caused them to reposition. Her cell phone buzzed, and she checked the text message instead of looking at the agent in the eye.
Pictures of her friends—her crush—scrolled onto her phone. Only one word accompanied the text.
Coming?
A light flashed. Mandy jerked from her phone. Agent McNally held up her hands to block a man taking her picture. “Give the kid her privacy.”
Mandy snorted. As if that could ever happen. She strode down Pennsylvania Avenue without a clue of how to get to Jaime’s house. First, she’d have to catch a taxi. She eyed 15th Street like it might be her salvation.
“Mandy.” McNally’s Mama Bear tone warned her not to take her newfound freedom too far.
She glanced over her shoulder. Another handful of agents had arrived, warily watching Mandy as though she were a ticking time bomb. She swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “You’re welcome to come with me.”
“Give us a few minutes to make arrangements.”
Mandy closed her eyes, not sure if she would cry or scream. Her Doc Martens anchored her to the sidewalk. “I don’t want anyone to make arrangements.” She stared at the smooth, worn sidewalk, whispering, “I want to disappear.”
“Mandy!” a child called. “Can we have a picture?”
She wrangled her emotions, nodded to McNally, and forced herself to smile.
Two girls ran to her side. Their mother thanked Mandy before, during, and after she snapped the picture.
After a moment of polite small talk, Mandy turned to see Dylan jogging their way.
“Wow,” she muttered. “They’ve called in for reinforcements. ”
“Hey, Sparkler.” He reached her side and urged her to keep moving. “Where are we headed?”
She dragged her feet and eyed his street clothes. She’d never seen him off duty before. A light sheen of sweat peppered his temples, and she snorted. He must’ve run from wherever he’d been. She pictured him grabbing a beer with friends, or maybe just doing something totally, amazingly dull.
Dylan repeated his question.
“Nowhere,” she mumbled.
“Obviously.” He picked up the pace, then glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”
She caught up—otherwise, someone might have scrambled F14s or swooped in with a Black Hawk to keep an eye on where she went. She and Dylan pretended they didn’t notice gawking passersby as they crossed toward New York Avenue. “I wish I was someone else.”
The light changed to yellow, and a crosswalk warning chirped. “Nah.”
“I’m serious.”
“Fine.” Dylan held out his arm to block her from someone waiting for their turn at an ATM. “Who do you wish you were?”
“Someone who could just leave her house without the circus act.”
He guided her around a happy hour that had gone late and spilled onto the walkway. “That’s not a different person. That’s different circumstances.” He stopped at the corner. “I heard you can’t miss your exam.”
Her fingers curled into fists. “If Dad is supposed to negotiate peace treaties, he should be able to find a way—” Tears burned her throat.
Her chin dropped. “I mean…” She gestured to a small group who watched as though she were a soap opera.
“If I have to put up with all of this, then I should at least get to do the fun stuff.”
Dylan nodded. “It sucks.”
“And I want to go to my friend’s house.”
“I feel ya.” He nodded again, then ushered her across the street. “Are you done complaining yet?”
“Hey!” She whirled on him. “You’re supposed to take up for me.”
“No, I’m supposed to keep you safe. Running off like this puts your life, my life”—he tossed his thumb over his shoulder to McNally and whoever else had followed them—“and their lives in danger. You know that.”
Her ears burned, and she shuffled her feet. “I walked.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I like it better when you pierce something or dye your hair. Makes the job more interesting.”
Mandy bit her lip as embarrassment made way for an exhausting wave of guilt. “Let’s get tattoos.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dylan laughed and turned them back toward home. “Or, let’s skip the tattoo and raid the kitchen for ice cream. You can figure out who you’d rather be another day.”