In Love With the President's Daughter

Jack and I spilled everything from our school lives to our home lives to our families. After a while it began to feel like I was just talking to a friend, and I had to be careful not to say anything that would get me into media trouble.

“Now time’s almost up, so let’s take some questions from our home viewers!” Sara Hanna said. “Caller number seven on the line. Hello? Who’s this?”

The speaker system in the room was wired so the caller could be heard over an intercom. “This is Caleb in California.” The voice was deep and the man I pictured Caleb in California to be probably could’ve broken every bone in my body.

“Hi Caleb! What’s the question?” Sara asked him.

“What were your lives like before… like before your parents were famous?”

“Well,” I said. “I was just like any other kid, I guess. My dad was still in politics, so people knew our family well, but now there’s a lot more media and popularity I guess.” I looked over to Jack, who nodded.

“Ditto.”

“Thank you Caleb! Caller number twenty-three on the line now. Who’s with me?”

“Oh my gosh, is this really Sara Hanna? And Krista Hale? And Jack McLean? Oh my gosh! This is amazing! I can never get through!” Teenage girl probably. She was all squealy and barely paused to take a breath.

“Well, I guess today’s your day! Do you have a question?”

“Oh yeah! Were you guys ever in a relationship? Or like, are you now?” Figures that’s what she’d ask. So far we’d managed to avoid the topic, but apparently it wasn’t going to last.

“Well…” Jack started. “I can’t speak for Krista, but I just moved here and even though everyone knows me, I don’t know them. So I haven’t really had a lot of time for that kind of thing.” Sigh. Why couldn’t he have just answered for me too? I knew if I didn’t answer it’d seem like I was hiding something.

“I’ve grown up with half the kids in my school at least. But until my dad ran for president, not a lot of people paid any attention to me. So I don’t really like to, well, involve myself a lot with romance and all that because you can never really tell if someone likes you because your famous, or if they like you because your you.” Did that make sense? I crossed my fingers.

“I’m afraid that’s all we have time for tonight! See you next week!” The Sara Hanna jingle played and the lights panned around the room. When the stage was dark, Jack and I made our way backstage to meet our moms. As we left the parking lot in the limo, I could see flashes of cameras taking pictures of the car. It’s just a limo, people.

*******

Monday was filled with even more publicity than usual. Kids in the hallway and in class would tell me that they saw the show. Good for them. So did half the planet.

Walking into science on Monday, Alex nudged me. “Do you think he saw the show?” she asked, pointing to Tyler, who was scribbling something in his notebook.

I elbowed her in the ribs. “Hello? Ever heard of being subtle?” She shrugged and walked with me to my lab table. Just as we were passing by Tyler, she nudged me again and my books went flying from my arms and onto the floor, making a huge slapping noise.

I glared at Alex, who in turn said, “Oh, damn, I forgot to finish question nine!” and proceeded to walk over to her lab table in the front of the room. I was pretty sure we only had to do questions one through seven.

As she walked away, Tyler looked over at me. “Careful, that’s a flat surface,” he said, barely looking up at all. Jack walked up behind me then as I bent down to collect my binders and textbook. Tyler punched him in the shoulder. “Hey, how’s it goin’?” Jack just raised his eyebrows at me as I picked up my things and walked towards my table where Shannon was already sitting.

The rest of the day went by so slowly I could cry. I didn’t think that I could possibly get more attention than I’d been getting, but thanks to the Sara Hanna show, Jack and I were once again the talk of the school.

Last block, French class, I had forgotten my homework in my locker again. Madame let me go back and get it, and by the time I made it to the back parking lot of the school, there was no Phil or Jack to be seen anywhere. I waited on the concrete steps, but after ten minutes, I came to the conclusion that they’d already gone and pulled out my phone pressing 6 on the speed dial.

“Hey! It’s Jack, but I’m actually not here, so leave a message and if I like you enough, I’ll call you back.” Beeeep. I pressed the off button. Where were they? They couldn’t just leave me here!

If I’d been any other kid, I could’ve wandered the halls until I found someone I knew and gotten a ride home with them, but my parents and Phil had made it a rule that I wasn’t allowed to do that. Walking was against the rules too, but it seemed the better of the two plans. So I walked around to the front of the school and turned right onto the main road.

I was fifteen minutes into my walk, passing Sunny Gables Cemetary (who the hell comes up with these names? Can you do that for a living? Name cemetaries?) when I saw a white van passing me. I read the side. HT5 Daily. Oh damn. The local news station. They parked at the curb some fifty feet ahead and two men and a woman got out. Sunny Gables or not, I made a beeline through the cemetery. Walking fast, I heard a voice behind me. “Krista Hale?”

I walked even faster, and came out onto the road running parallel to Main Street on the other side of the cemetery. I had no idea where I was, but if I turned right, wouldn’t I eventually come out by the school again. As I turned I could see them trudging through the light layer of snow on the ground. The woman held a microphone, and one of the men had a camera. Someone must’ve tipped of the press, which meant there were more to come.

I pulled out my phone and tried calling Jack again. “Hey! It’s Jack, but I’m actually not…” I snapped the phone shut, and kept walking. “Krista Hale? Wait!” I didn’t wait. But I also realized I was completely lost. I was in unknown territory here.

Breathing heavily, I sped up even more, close to breaking out into a full run. I hated the press. Trees were lining the sidewalk where I was, and on a spur of the moment idea, I climbed up one. My backpack caught on one of the branches and I dragged it up. I could see the three people through the leaves as they crossed in front of the trees.

“Where is she?”

“Must’ve gone into one of those houses or something.”

“Damn we could’ve really used that interview!”

“No kidding.” They kept walking passed the trees, but I stayed perched on the branch for minutes after.

“Krista?” More media? The voice came from a car on the street, pulled up by the curb. I lifted the branch I was behind a little bit.

“Tyler?”

“What the hell are you doing in that tree?”

“Escaping the press,” I told him.

“Okay, well there’s none of them around, so I’d say it’s safe to come down.” I took my backpack, threw it to the ground with a thud, and swung down to a lower branch and onto the sidewalk. “Why were you hiding from the press?”

“I was walking home and they came after me to get an interview.”

“Why were you walking home alone?”

“I didn’t have a ride! They left without me!” I complained. Wait… he was talking to me? What?

“God damn it, you can’t just wander around town alone!” he told me.

“I know.”

“Apparently not. Get in,” he said, popping the lock on the inside of the passenger’s door.

“I’m not supposed to get rides with people,” I said. Why was I arguing with him?

“And I’m guessing you’re not supposed to walk either?” He had me there. I sighed. “And I’d suggest you get in this car right now so you don’t get mobbed by the paparazzi who’re about to figure out you’re here,” he said. I turned around, and sure enough there were a dozen or so reporters turning the corner less than one hundred feet away. I swung the door open, tossed my bag inside, and got up onto the seat next to him.”

“Go, Tyler!”

He stepped on the gas hard and we went speeding down the road, fast enough, hopefully, so the reporters didn’t get a good look inside the car.