17
Neptune
It was the President’s nephew. Code name Neptune. He looked a little older, more laid-back than in the photo Becks had saved on her phone. He slid down to the floor. We both sat with our backs to the wall, our knees bent. He looked at ease, though I was ready to barf.
He didn’t sound like a big shot when he talked. I felt myself redden. It was so embarrassing, being in there with him. Not, like, romantic or anything. It was just that here I was, having the greatest day ever, then I had to go and step into a lethal deathtrap elevator and start shrieking like a preschooler. AND THEN I’m looking this boy in the face but remembering that stupid photo of him in those skimpy swim trunks.
He told me his real name was Frederick Douglass London. He said he was named after the famous African American abolitionist Frederick Douglass. “Most people either call me London or Neptune.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
He said, “For what?”
I gave him a “nice try” look. “You know,” I said. He didn’t seem to mind, though.
I think the Secret Service guy, on the other hand—I knew from Mr. G.’s class that that’s who protects the president and his family—was afraid I might have a heart attack and explode dork guts all over the President’s nephew.
A little time passed, then Neptune asked for my phone number. I raised my eyebrow at him, but gave him the number. After that we started texting each other.
He was smart. Smart enough to know that if I was trying hard to concentrate on typing, I wouldn’t flinch every time I heard a clink or moan of the motors and gears.
Neptune’s fingers danced across the keypad.
I looked at him. Laughed.
I said, “No way!”
“Yes way.”
I pulled my clipboard out of my book bag. “I’m working on a speech. I’m not afraid of speech giving, but I’m sure no fan of speech writing.”
He laughed. “I’d rather write a speech than give a speech any time. What’s yours on?”
I let out a deep sigh. Lights flickered and the Secret Service dude mumbled into his shirt some more. Neptune was so chill, he could have been taking a nap. I knew he was talking to distract me from my terror. Every so often we could hear dings and pings from the workmen. To me it sounded like they were slapping the elevator around to keep us from falling to our deaths.
Inhale. Exhale.
We looked at each other and started laughing. The Secret Service dude rolled his eyes. He said, “Are you two really text talking when you could be talk talking?”
“Talk talking? That’s a good one, Adam,” Neptune said. He looked at me, and typed:
I looked at Neptune and said, “What I stand for beyond that… what we hope to accomplish, that’s what I’m not sure about. I wanted to do my speech on entrepreneurship. About the power of owning a business and making money and saving money, the importance of that.”
His fingers stopped moving. He looked at me. “So why not do it?”
I shrugged. Something about it just didn’t seem quite right.
We spent the next few minutes texting back and forth some more. I told him how my classmates made me feel heartless because I wanted to grow up to earn a lot of money. He said he wanted to earn a lot of money, too.
I turned to look at him and said, “I am a businesswoman!”
He gave a half grin. “Is that right? What kind of business?”
His question led to another pause. I explained how I used to want that more than anything, but now I wasn’t sure.
I did know one thing for sure, though. “I… want to make a difference.”
He said, “You can do both, you know. Make money and make a difference.”
“I like motivating people. The problem is, I also like the idea of having millions and millions of dollars in the bank.”
“Why is that a problem? A lot of wealthy people do a lot of good. Look at Bill Gates or Paul G. Allen. They give away millions and millions of dollars.”
“Well, one of the classes I really like is journalism. I love storytelling. But I don’t know if I want to be a reporter, or an author—or both. Maybe even a filmmaker.”
He paused to think for a minute. “Last year, Aunt Kaye held a luncheon on literacy here at the White House. The woman who wrote the Harry Potter books…”
“J. K. Rowling?”
“Yeah, her. She was here. She gives a lot of money to charity, too. There are a lot of ways to make a difference, Brianna Justice. You just have to pick one.”
A voice came through the speakers again. “It’ll only be a couple more minutes, folks.”
Neptune and I sat in silence for a few seconds. Then I caught him looking at my clipboard.
“What?”
“Um, you know you could keep all your notes and dates and schedules in something like this,” he said, waggling his tablet in my face.
I sighed. “Yeah, that’s what everybody tells me.”
“So, why don’t you have one?”
“My aunt Tina says there’s nothing like using good old-fashioned tools. She says there’s nothing wrong with paper and pencil.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed. When he laughed, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He was sitting so close, I could feel the muscles in his body contract and expand. I realized that he felt warm, and sitting next to him was… comfortable. Nice.
He said, “Ahhh! So you have one, too.”
“One what?”
“An aunt who thinks she’s always right!”
I frowned. “Hey, you can’t talk about the First Lady like that. She’s my new bestie.” I flipped my phone’s home screen to my photo gallery and showed him the pics of me and her with the chef and in front of the Christmas tree.
“Nice.” He laughed. “But I wasn’t talking about Aunt Kaye. My other aunt. Maddie. She’s always into something. That’s where I’m heading now. To the Capitol building, because of her. She drives my grandfather nuts.”
“Yeah, well, my grandfather says Aunt Tina wouldn’t have time for so many sayings if she got married.”
We both laughed.
Then I looked over at him. “Is it hard? Living here, I mean. People all in your business all the time. Photos…”
Before I could even finish, I felt his muscles tense again. “Sorry. Really, sorry about that. None of my business. I shouldn’t have asked…”
But he was already shaking his head. “You saw it, right?”
I looked away. “No,” I lied. “Saw what?”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t be this uncomfortable if you hadn’t seen it.” Then he leaned over and nudged me with his shoulder.
“Okay, so I did see it. I mean, yeah, it’s your swimming uniform and all. But…”
“But what kid wants to look in the national newspapers or magazines and see a photo of his skinny legs sticking out of a Speedo?”
“Yeah. And your hair is so different, too. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“That was the whole point. I thought if I got rid of ‘that mop,’ as Uncle calls it, I could go incognito. I haven’t taken a lot of photos since it’s been cut, but it’s only a matter of time before word spreads.”
“Does that suck? The word spreading, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Being able to live here is a privilege. I’m not going to give up swimming just because a photo embarrassed me. I love to swim. I’m good at it, too.”
I said, “I read that you grew up in California. Then when your uncle got elected, you moved here. Right?”
He nodded.
“Was it hard to start over? I mean, I know it’s a privilege and all that. But… I bet you had friends. You had hopes and dreams long before you knew you’d be living in the White House. How did you handle moving and giving up your friends?”
He was silent for a moment and I figured I’d pushed too much. Sometimes I just didn’t know when to shut up.
Finally, he let out a long sigh.
He said, “When Uncle Bill first sat me down and explained he was running for President, I thought it was great. I was so excited. For months, I traveled with him and my aunt, went and listened to his speeches. He was amazing.
“Then, when he won, I felt like I was drowning. I know it sounds crazy, but it was like the idea of us moving and our lives changing hadn’t really occurred to me. All of a sudden, it hit me. I was leaving California. Leaving my old swim team. Leaving my best friends in the whole world.”
He stopped talking. The pause was so long, I swear I could feel his pain through his skin. He drew in a breath and when he exhaled, his eyes seemed to be looking back in time. Probably to that day when he realized how much his life was going to change.
“Mike and Taz. They were my boys. Me and Taz had been swimming together since our mothers put us in Mommy and Me classes at the Y. My mom died when I was five. She had been an Olympic swimmer. Being in the water, after she died, it made me feel close to her. Swimming with Taz and, later, Mike, made me feel like somehow Mom was still there.”
This time, he dropped his head. I touched his arm lightly.
“Neptune, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” I said, noticing the sadness creeping into his expression.
“You know what, Brianna Justice? You’re the first person I’ve ever told that to.”
We both looked up at the Secret Service guy. He concentrated on his phone like he wasn’t listening.
Neptune laughed. “Anyway, we’ve been in Washington almost two years now. I’m on a new swim team and I’ve made new friends. So, I guess, it’s all good.”
It should have lightened the mood, but all of a sudden I felt stupid tears starting to burn the corners of my stupid eyes.
In a whisper, I asked: “But do you wish you could just turn back time? Do you wish you didn’t have to change? That things could stay the same?”
He thought about it for a minute. “You know what? At first, I did. I really did. Then one day last year, last summer, I was traveling with my aunt Kaye. As the First Lady, she does a lot for arts programs and art education. But she asked if I’d like to participate in an effort to teach more kids how to swim.”
“I think I remember reading about that. At least, Grandpa read it to me. Just so you know, he loves your uncle!”
“Thank you. Anyway, we were going to different cities, talking to groups of kids. And in Fort Lauderdale, we went to this one park. I wasn’t giving speeches, not to big groups, but I did talk to a few kids. This one little dude, I showed him what to do if he ever fell in a pool and didn’t know how to get out. Well, several weeks later, they contacted Aunt Kaye and told her that the same boy got pushed into a pool maybe three weeks after we left. He managed to get to safety and he said it was because of what I showed him.”
“Really?” Now I was smiling, too.
“Yeah. So, you know, I think about that. When I’m having one of those days when I wish things could just go back to the way they were, I remember that little boy. And I think, Uncle Bill won’t be President forever. I’ll go back to California eventually. Until then, maybe I can do something cool or make a difference for somebody else.”
Neptune glued his face to the tablet again. After a few seconds, he pushed it in my direction and said, “Here. If you want, you should look up famous speeches in history. Might give you some ideas about how to deliver a great message.”
We spent the next ten minutes reading lists of the best speeches ever. One of my favorites was Susan B. Anthony’s speech in 1873 about the right for women to vote. John F. Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. were on there, too.
I felt a little overwhelmed. “But… all of these people were talking about big, huge, important things. I’m just a sixth grader from Detroit. I don’t have anything big and important to say.”
The elevator shook, and I shrieked. Again. Almost jumped in Neptune’s lap. Then we were moving and before I knew it, we were back on the first floor and the doors were opening and a bunch of people were crowded around the entrance. Mom was right there and I spilled out of the elevator and into her arms. She started stroking my forehead, then announced to the whole wide world, “My baby has always been a little nervous of closed-in spaces.”
“MOM!” I cried. But of course all the grown-ups thought it was funny and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. To the right, I caught a glimpse of the First Lady. She was standing with Miss Letitia.
A big voice rose above the others and I turned.
“You all right, my boy? Thought I might have to send in a SEAL team to save you.”
I looked at Neptune. He ducked as the man reached out to brush his hand across the top of his head.
It was the President. Of the United States. Of America!
I whispered to Mom, “Why would he send seals to save us? What does that mean?”
She squeezed me. “He means an elite branch of the United States Navy. It stands for Sea, Air, and Land teams. When the President needs to get someone out of a tight spot, that’s who he calls.”
“And who do we have here?” asked the President. He was coming toward us and I didn’t know whether to step out of Mom’s hug and shake his hand or run and hide. But I figured I’d had enough crazy for one day, so I reminded myself to be calm, cool, and sophisticated.
I stepped forward and held out my hand. “Hello, Mr. Brianna. My name is President.”
He smiled. I groaned.
He said, “I think I get the idea. So, I hear you’re interested in politics.”
Now I glanced nervously at his wife. She smiled warmly.
“William, don’t put the girl on the spot.” She looked at me. “But, honey, any second now all these people in suits are going to sweep him away to his next meeting. If you want to ask your question, now’s the time.”
It was like a scene out of one of those movies. I swear to goodness, everything stopped.
Some opportunities only come once in a lifetime. Who knew when I’d get a chance to interview the President again.
I gulped. Pulling up my clipboard, I asked, “Would you mind if I quoted you? It’s for my school paper. The First Lady already let me interview her.”
“Fire away, young lady,” he said.
“Well, it’s a two-parter.”
He said, “Darling, I’ve yet to meet a reporter worth her salt who didn’t have a two-parter for me. Go on with your question.”
I said, “What advice would you give on how to be a good leader? Um, wait. No. How to be an effective leader?”
He stared at me for a long time. It was getting a little nerve-racking standing there.
“You know, the secret to effective leadership is simply understanding what your strengths are and being smart enough to surround yourself with the right people. Not only your friends, but people who care about your message and share your passion to take that message to others. Now, what’s the second part of your question?”
I was writing as fast as I could. From behind me, I heard Neptune mumble, “You’d be done by now if you had a tablet.” I turned and made a face.
“Okay, thank you for that, sir, Mr. President. Part two: If you want to take the message to the people, what are some strategies for giving a good speech?”
He gave a lopsided grin. “That’s easy. Keep it short and simple and make them feel good about your message. I once heard Maya Angelou say that people may forget what you said or what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel. Every good speaker must understand the truth of her words.”
Then he was off. Mom hugged me as the President kissed his wife, waved to his nephew, and then allowed himself to be led away by a group of suit-clad men and women.
I felt someone walk up alongside me. Neptune.
“You do have something important to say,” he said. “And people will listen. You just have to have the courage to say it.”