Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,38
time managing everything.” He takes a deep breath. “Just when we thought everything was getting better, and I started making plans to return to school for the fall semester, Sunshine came down with an infection that hospitalized her for weeks. After that she was in and out of the hospital for months. I took a part-time job at the local television station to help out with the medical bills. By the time she was better, you guys had already graduated, and I was working in front of the camera. Not to mention, the drive to Cambridge from Virginia is eight hours, and I couldn’t be that far away from family.”
Everything becomes more clear as he speaks of his sister and parents. I almost hate to ask my next question, but I need to know. “How is she now?”
His eyes light up at the mention of her. “She’s just turned thirteen and is driving Mom and Dad crazy with teenage girl drama. Skinner than she should be, but she always had a small frame. Tall, though, she could step on the boys her age.” His eyes go distant and I know he’s picturing her. “I saw her over Christmas when I went home. She begged me to bring her back with me to the city. She’s a dancer and dreams of dancing for either the New York City Ballet or the American Ballet Theatre.”
“She’s a ballet dancer?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says and looks at me funny. “Why?”
“I took ballet for a long time, and I too had dreams of being a professional ballerina. I had zero natural ability, but I was determined if practiced every spare minute I had, I could make it.”
“What happened?”
He looks genuinely interested. I don’t think he’s only pretending to be interested. “I had a growth spurt. And then another,” I say and he’s laughing at this point. “And another. Needless to say, that was it. Nothing you can do to change that. It was a hard lesson to learn, but looking back now, I can say I’m much better as President than I ever would be as a ballet dancer.”
“I can see that,” he says, surprising me.
“How’s your sister?” I ask because the intensity he’s looking at me with is making my cheeks flush.
He raises one eyebrow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d much rather her be a dancer than the President.”
“You won’t insult me by either saying or thinking that,” I assure him. “Before I ran, I was sure you had to be missing most of your brain to run for office.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m in a peculiar position,” I say. “I either have to admit I was wrong, or admit to a lobotomy I don’t remember.”
We both laugh. “Then there are times, I feel as if they went on and took the entire thing while they were in there,” I say.
“No,” he says. “I don’t think they took anything out. You have somehow managed to do both have a brain and run for office.”
A feeling of warmth washes over me at his words. I take a sip of the water at my side to cool down a bit and see he’s still watching me with those dark eyes of his. Today they once again seem to have the ability to look past my mask and into my soul.
“Thank you,” I say belatedly in reply to his earlier statement. “You never did answer my question.”
“Tired of talking about yourself?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.
There’s no reason to lie. “Yes.”
“You asked how my sister is at a ballet,” he poses it as a statement, so there’s no need for me to respond. “She’s really good. I say that knowing I’m her brother and it’s hard for me to be objective, but she’s really good.”
“I believe you,” I say. I want to add that I’d love to see her dance, but I don’t. Navin and I aren’t in any sort of relationship and running off with the most well known news-broadcaster in the country to watch his thirteen-year-old sister dance wasn’t something I could do.
“Something you just thought made you sad,” Navin says. “What was it?”
I try to swallow my shock at his words because no one, and by no one, I mean not one person, has ever been able to read my emotions the way he can. That he can do so with such ease, shakes me to the core. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It’s a lie and