Page 94 of The Baller

“No.”

“Really?”

I nodded, which seemed to be the correct response, because the rest of her pasta got forked up in one.

“Okay, you can meet them.”

“What time are you going home?”

“After the lunchtime class ends tomorrow. Millie and I have to be back in D.C. for late afternoon.”

“Tomorrow? I thought I had one more day with you.”

“I have to go back. There’s official stuff with my brothers. My parents are hosting a pre-Thanksgiving dinner for local charities or something, and we have to be there.” She smiled, but I could see a tiny sliver of dread behind her eyes. “And my mom wants me to come to a breakfast with her.”

When she was sitting here in my kitchen, eating pasta in my sweats, it was easy to forget she was America’s First Daughter. Come Thursday morning, she would be splashed across the front pages of every paper and news report alongside the President of the United States, with details on how they were spending Thanksgiving.

“Will Millie be there?”

She shook her head. “No, but she’ll come for Thanksgiving. We do it every year, since we were kids. She has two brothers like me, and we’re an extension of each other’s families. It’s a fun day with lots of food, and the football, obviously.”

“Are her parents in politics too?”

She shook her head. “No. Her dad was in the C.I.A. with mine, they were stationed together, but he was killed on assignment a few years ago. Her mom stopped working so she could be at home with Millie and her brothers.”

My chest lurched; my dad wasn’t dead – that I knew of – but I knew what it was like to grow up without one. “Poor Millie, thathad to be tough.”

“Yeah, it was, so we still make sure we’re doing all the family things together. She’s like my sister; I protect her as much as she protects me. She’s carried me the last couple of years.”

She leaned into my hands as I cupped her cheek. “She’s a great friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” She sat up and asked, “What time are you going home?”

“I’m flying to Florida the day after tomorrow, meeting everyone at Disney.” I tried not to groan.

Yeah, that’s right. I was the guy who’d promised to take his baby sister to Disney if she made the track team. My Thanksgiving was going to be spent in the most wonderful place on earth – or whatever it was called.

A grimace twisted her face. “It’s supposed to snow on Wednesday.”

“They’ve been saying that for two weeks, and I’m going south. It’s not going to snow in Florida.” I stood up and grabbed the empty dishes; Radley’s was so clean it looked like it had come fresh from the cabinet. “How’s your list coming?”

“Good. Now my essay is in, I can dedicate more time to it. I’ve only added a couple of things.”

“Like what?” I turned around when she went silent again.

“Promise you won’t think they’re dumb?”

“Of course I won’t. They’re important to you, important enough to list, therefore important to me.”

She smiled softly and sat up straighter. “Okay, it’s small stuff, like go to the Columbia gym by myself, I want to go eat in a restaurant by myself. I know I met you before… you know… but you were going to join me. I want a full meal. I want to go to the movie theater.”

“By yourself?”

“I know, I know… the agents will always be there, but I can’t ditch them, so I have to pretend they’re not there.” She sighed, and I felt the weight of that sigh deep in my chest.

“No, I mean, I wanna come to the movies.”

“You can come.”

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